I really did love living there. “What a spectacular view.”
“The view is nice, but you get your own tiny little apartment if you spring for The Spruce.” The gravelly voice was strained and quiet.
I turned to find Harold looking at me.
“The Spruce costs about five times as much, though.”
“Yeah…” Barry moved closer, pulling Harold’s attention away from me. “But the nurses here sure are prettier.”
Harold managed to laugh but winced at the effort. “True, but nobody is as pretty as my Dolana.”
“Well, of course not, Harold. Can’t get prettier than that angel.” Barry sighed heavily, then broke the moment by motioning to me and then the plate of cinnamon rolls. “Fred and I thought we’d drop by, and Phyllis made you some goodies that surely aren’t on the diet this place has you on. She sends her love. She had some appointments planned this morning already, but she’s gonna pop in tomorrow sometime to see you.”
“That’d be nice.” Harold blinked slowly and looked back at me, his eyes hardening slightly. “Carla didn’t hurt Eustace. And if you’re here to try to get me to say otherwise, you might as well get going.”
“I’m not, Mr. White. I’m sorry you’re worried about that. I don’t think Carla would try to kill anybody.” I was nearly certain I believed that. “We just wanted to check on you.” That part wasn’t true, at least not completely. Barry was right; I was hoping to uncover a lead. Even if Carla wasn’t involved, maybe Harold had seen something that day, knew who plated the scone for Eustace. “You gave us quite a scare yesterday.”
He attempted to sit up a little straighter, winced again, and relaxed back into the pillow. “Nobody’s hurt, right? Carla said nobody was hurt.” He sounded frantic, desperate.
“No, Harold. Everybody’s okay.” Barry brightened, and it showed how much more I knew him that I could tell some of it was forced, for once. “Truth be told, you did us a favor. My girls are wanting to revamp that shop anyway. You saved us some time.”
Harold studied me for a few more moments, then refocused on Barry and grinned. “I do what I can. Can’t say I remember helping you out, but I’ll be happy to charge. Maybe enough to get a month stay at The Spruce.”
“There you go again, trying to leave all these pretty nurses behind.” Even Barry’s naturally cheerful nature couldn’t hide his concern. “The seizures are that bad? You really don’t remember?”
He shook his head. “Sure don’t.”
“And what in the green blazes were you doing driving, young man?” Wasn’t sure I’d ever heard Barry sound so authoritarian before.
“Don’t you start too. Carla was in here ranting and raving, soon as I got back from the hospital yesterday evening. Accused me of stealing her car. Told me I’ll never find the keys with how good she’s gonna hide them from now on.” He seemed to deflate and grow even smaller. “Hardly feel like a man anymore. No freedom at all. Stuck in here. Can’t drive, working in the coffee shop all day. At least at The Spruce, you can pretend like you’ve got your own place.”
Barry pointed at the window. “You don’t get this view with The Spruce, Harold. That’s gotta be worth something.”
Harold simply shook his head. “Seen it all my life, Barry. Maybe it looks different to you now, seeing as you own quite a bit of it. None of its mine.” He turned away, staring at the wall. “It’s just a view of other people’s stuff.”
I glanced out the window again and struggled to picture the stunning expanse the way Harold saw it. I couldn’t. I couldn’t find anything depressing or hopeless there. It was beautiful, wild and free. Full of hope and possibility.
Then again, I wasn’t a fragile old man lying in a tiny twin bed who had his life dictated by nurses and his granddaughter.
Suddenly, I knew I couldn’t ask Harold any more questions about that day in the coffee shop. He was going through enough. And anything he said would be slanted from his dim view of the world.
Leaving the window, I squeezed Barry on the shoulder as I walked by. “I’m going to let you gentlemen have your space and privacy. I don’t want to intrude.” I started to pat Harold’s quilt-covered legs, then thought better of it and waved instead. “It’s good to see you, Mr. White. I hope you’re feeling better soon and that you’re back at the coffee shop before too long.”
He didn’t respond.
I caught Barry’s attention as I walked out the door. “I’ll meet you up front whenever you’re ready. Take your time.”
He smiled in way of acknowledgment and turned back to his friend.
Heaviness settled over me as I headed toward the reception area. Aspen Grove had seemed beautiful and charming, but now it all seemed rather depressing.
Just as I neared reception, barking filled the hallway, and I glanced up in the nick of time to see two half-crazed corgis rocketing toward me, tongues lolling and eyes frantic with excitement. As one, the pair launched themselves airborne when they were less than two feet from me, crashed into my shins, and for the second time in two days, I hit the floor while covered in a tumble of fur and corgi kisses.
“My goodness, they just adore you.” Paulie Mertz stood above me, hands on his hips, a pleased smile on his thin, asymmetrical face. “That, and I’m sure they smell Watson.” He tore his pleased gaze from the corgi attack and searched the hallway, including the direction he’d traveled. “Where is that little guy? He should join the fun.”
“Paulie.” I managed to get ahold of the tricolored corgi’s collar and pulled him away slightly. Not much, as corgis are strong both in body and willpower, but enough that I thought I could avoid another french kiss. I wasn’t so lucky with the red one and got a mouthful of nose before I could close it in time. Jerking my head away, I tried again. “Paulie, can you please get Flotsam off me? I think I’ve got Jetsam under control.”
“Of course, of course!” Paulie bent down and grabbed the leash of the tricolor, and pulled him away, forcing me to release my grip on his collar. The red one took advantage of the opportunity and gave me an earful of tongue.
With a shudder, I transferred my hold onto his collar, found the leash, and thrust it in Paulie’s direction. “This one. I meant this one.”
“Oh! Sorry. But he’s Jetsam.” Paulie grabbed the red corgi’s leash and took a few steps back, pulling both dogs with him, though each of them was straining to get to me once more.
Barely managing to refrain from commenting about not caring which one was which, only that they keep their distance, I pushed myself to my knees, used my sleeves to wipe the copious amounts of drool off my face and then stood, placing my hand on the wall for support. “Thank you. That was… intense.”
And still Paulie beamed. “Yep, they just love coming here. They get so much attention.”
“Oh? Do you have family here or something?” I slipped my hand into one of my sleeves and used the fabric over my finger to get the moisture out of my ear, at least as much as I could.
Paulie’s expression fell. “No. No family in town, remember?”
Despite my irritation, I felt a pang of guilt at my thoughtlessness. Paulie had mentioned he was alone in town and made it abundantly clear that he was lonely and desperate for friendship. I’d promised myself I was going to do a better job of making him feel welcome; I hadn’t followed through on that. “I do recall. Sorry, Paulie. I wasn’t thinking.”
“No problem.” His smile was back. Though less frantic, he was nearly as friendly as his two crazy corgis. The tricolor, Jetsam… no, Flotsam… lunged at me again, his tongue long enough he nearly made contact with my boots. Paulie readjusted his stance.
I took a step back. “Who are you here visiting? Mr. White?”
He puzzled for a second, and then his eyes cleared. “Carla’s grandfather, right.” Paulie shook his head. “No, the boys and I come here at least once a week. My way of giving back to the community. They make the retirees happy. For a lot of them, it’s the highlight of their week.” Anothe
r headshake, though this one slower. “But we steer clear of Mr. White’s room. He’s kinda like Carla. They aren’t very dog friendly.”
It didn’t seem to me that a person’s aversion to Flotsam and Jetsam indicated any level of not being dog friendly, but I kept the opinion to myself. “It’s nice of you to try to make people’s days better, Paulie.”
He shrugged and again his cheerfulness faded, but just for a second. “It’s good for me too. Estes is beautiful, but it can be a little isolating.”
More guilt. Maybe it was too little too late, but I might as well try. “Barry is going to be visiting with Harold for a while I would imagine. I was just on my way to the reception area. Want to join?”
“Seriously?”
The hope and excitement in his tone only added to my determination to do a better job of reaching out. “Of course, if you have time. I don’t want to interrupt anything.”
“You’re not!” He glanced toward the reception desk, then lowered his voice. “But do you mind if we maybe chat outside? Ms. Booger doesn’t like the boys… or me, all that much.”
I matched his whispered tone. “That’s probably a good idea. I got the impression she’s not overly fond of Barry or me either.”
“Well, that’s strange, I can’t imagine anyone not simply adoring you.” He thrust one of the leashes into my hand. “Here. Take Jetsam. Watson isn’t around here anywhere?”
“No. He’s a little grumpier than your two, if you remember.” The instant I took Jetsam’s leash, he began jumping all over me, and somehow managed to get his head under my skirt and started lathering my shins with his tongue. I was going to have to shower before heading back into the bookshop. I nudged him with my boot, but it was pointless. “Watson would probably just sit in the corner if we came here to visit everyone. Unless they had snacks.”
It was the wrong word to use—both Flotsam and Jetsam went into hysterics.
The corgis forgot about me, thankfully, within a few minutes of going outside. We found a wrought-iron-and-wood bench at a little seating area close to the front door, and Paulie tied their leashes to a tree, allowing them to get lost in their exploration of smells and destruction of pinecones.
“Are you here investigating? I’ve heard you’re on the case?” Paulie turned his back on the corgis and swiveled toward me. Hands folded in his lap, his brown eyes sparkled in excitement. “Were you interviewing Carla’s grandfather?”
I’d wondered at Carla’s anger at me the day before, saying that Harold’s seizures were worse due to the stress over me looking into Eustace’s death and fear that I was trying to pin it all on Carla. And yet, here we were again. “You heard I was on a case?” I shook my head, feeling ridiculous as I heard my own words. “Not that I could ever be on the case. I sell books, remember, I’m not a police officer or detective.”
“Right.” He tapped his temple and gave a conspiratorial wink. “You just sell books. And Diana Prince was just a nurse.”
I nearly laughed at the comparison, but despite myself couldn’t help but feel flattered, though I quickly sidestepped. “Besides, the official word is that Eustace choked. What is there to ask questions about?”
“Really?” He cocked his head. “You believe that?”
“Don’t you?” Maybe Paulie did know something. Just my luck that the one person who might agree with me about Eustace being a victim of murder would be Paulie Mertz.
“I hadn’t thought about it until I heard you were on the case.” He shrugged. “But it makes sense. He was horrible to me when I was setting up the pet shop. He’s horrible to almost everybody.” He flinched. “I wasn’t saying that I killed him. Or that he deserved to be murdered just because he was horrible to me.”
“I know that, Paulie. I wasn’t thinking you tried to kill him or anyone else.” I patted his knee, then drew my hand back quickly lest I gave the wrong idea. “But why do you keep saying that I’m on the case if you didn’t think about someone trying to kill him? Who did you hear it from?”
“Roxanne mentioned it last night during our meeting of the Feathered Friends Brigade.” He glanced over his shoulder when Flotsam and Jetsam started barking at a ground squirrel, then looked back at me after the little rodent escaped. “You’re quite the hero there, you know. Even if Petra did get in trouble for having that bird. Myrtle thinks you hung the moon.”
I had a feeling not everyone in the bird club would agree with Myrtle’s estimation of me. And given her initial distance, I doubted Myrtle herself felt that way about me all the time. And I hadn’t seen Roxanne in months. People must’ve really been talking for her to be part of the gossip. Before I could think of an appropriate response, Paulie continued.
“Plus, Athena said you came to see her. She could tell you were on the trail of somebody.”
I’d forgotten about Paulie and Athena being friends, despite sitting with them at the espresso party the other day. They were such an odd couple. Although, for Paulie, that sort of made sense. Still, with as classy and refined as Athena seemed, I couldn’t imagine her tolerating Flotsam and Jetsam for very long. Or little Pearl coping with the two of them, for that matter. “Athena didn’t have any kind words to say about Eustace Beaker, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, no. She hated that man.” Paulie’s eyes widened as he shook his head emphatically. “He was horrible to her. I mean, I know he was horrible to a lot of people, but he was really horrible to her.”
Unable to stop myself, I leaned forward, interest piqued. “He was? Worse to Athena than most people?”
He nodded. “I can’t say worse than most people, but bad enough. Worse than he was to me, anyway. He just tried to keep me from opening a business. He tried to ruin Athena’s whole life, at least from what she says.”
I was surprised he was being so transparent, surely he knew how he was making it sound. Although, Paulie didn’t seem that relationally astute. And he was desperate enough for friendship that he’d probably say anything that crossed his mind to keep the conversation going. The realization caused my guilt to fester once more, but I couldn’t hold myself back. “What did he do?”
“He was awful. Well, this happened before I moved here. A long time ago actually, but I can totally see him doing it.”
Feeling like a completely manipulative and awful person, I reached forward and touched Paulie’s knee lightly and repeated my question. “What did he do?”
“Athena didn’t always write obituaries for the paper, you know. She had a…” Paulie’s expression changed, and he leaned back as he abruptly quit speaking. He blinked, and for the first time it seemed he was studying me, judging for himself what he thought of Winifred Page instead of only seeing her as a potential friend in his lonely life. “Athena wouldn’t hurt Mr. Beaker. She wouldn’t hurt anybody.”
I considered sugarcoating or backpedaling. But the idea of either left a bitter taste in my mouth, and Paulie had been nothing but kind to me since I’d moved to Estes and attempted friendship on repeated occasions. I owed him better than trying to manipulate him. “Like we’ve already said, Paulie, as far as the police are concerned, Mr. Beaker simply choked on a scone and died. They don’t expect foul play.”
“But you do.”
And again, he was more attuned than I gave him credit for. “I do. Though I have absolutely no shred of proof or reason to believe that, other than my own gut feeling.”
Again, he studied me. There were shadows in his eyes, different than before. The darkness told me there was more to Paulie than simply feeling like an outcast. He had seen things. “That’s more than enough reason for me to believe somebody killed him, if your gut tells you that.”
It didn’t feel like flattery, just a calm statement of belief. One I didn’t think I deserved, especially from him. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“If you think he was killed, then he was.” It seemed Paulie had decided. He sat up straighter, and his tone hardened. “Athena wouldn’t hurt anybody, Fred. Your gut might tell you that someone
killed Mr. Beaker, but mine tells me that Athena is good. She’s the closest friend I have in town.”
Fair enough. “I’m glad you have her. And she seems very nice.” This time when I reached forward and patted Paulie’s knee, there was nothing manipulative or forced about it. “To be honest, I found her rather charming, smart, and a little intimidating.”
He chuckled and offered a soft smile. “So, kind of like you.”
That took me back for a second. I couldn’t imagine anyone finding me intimidating. Well, that wasn’t true. There were plenty of men who were intimidated by any tall woman who was willing to speak her mind, but other than that, I didn’t see that as one of my qualities.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to figure out how to respond. With a decisive nod, Paulie began again. “I suppose there’s no reason not to tell you the story. I don’t really think it’s a secret. And even if it was, I think you’ll find it out anyway now that you think there’s a reason to look into Athena.”
“Paulie, she’s your friend. You don’t owe me any explanation at all. I’m not the police, remember? I just sell books, and if you ask Officer Green, she’ll tell you that all I do is snoop and stick my nose in places it doesn’t belong.”
“Officer Green.” He rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t care for me either. Of course, neither does Sergeant Wexler, but you two get along well, so maybe he’s not as bad as he seems.”
It wasn’t the first time he referenced Branson in an unflattering light. Though, in regard to Paulie, I figured I could easily be painted with the same brush. “Either way, I’m sorry you felt I was pressuring you to break a friend’s confidence.”
“Athena had several jobs at the paper years ago.” Paulie launched in, ignoring the out I’d offered. “She reviewed the restaurants in town, school plays, stuff like that. She was even the senior editor for the entertainment and social articles. When Black Bear Roaster opened, she wrote a review. An honest review, so it talked about how the food wasn’t very good and how the service was somewhat lacking in warmth.” He smiled mischievously, and I was a little surprised to find that my fondness for the man was growing once more. “Mr. Beaker went on a tirade, fired her from the paper—he’s one of the owners of The Chipmunk Chronicles, you know. To me it seems kind of silly. He clearly can’t stand Carla, but Athena said he took it as a personal insult. Nearly broke Athena’s heart. She said those were the happiest years of her life in that position. She loved it.”
Scornful Scones (Cozy Corgi Mysteries Book 5) Page 8
