“Dad, take it easy.”
“Richard, everyone’s calling me for interviews. Everyone’s calling me cheap. I’m ashamed to walk around the store today. My oldest customers are disgusted with me, I can tell. Not to mention that without my key people, this place is falling apart. And we’re catering the Festival…”
“I don’t have to be in New York until Monday. I’ll jump in the car and ride on up. I worked often enough at the store to know what I’m doing.”
“Richard, I hate to make you do that. Your play just ended and you have a few days off.”
“Forget it, Dad. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
Sam was choked up. It would be so nice to see a friendly face. “Thank you, son,” he said. “You don’t know what this means to me.”
Feeling somewhat better, Sam hung up the phone. I’ll have a cup of coffee, he thought, then get back out there to face the firing squad. He walked over to the coffeepot he always kept in his office. He was reaching for his mug when the door burst open. Without turning, he knew who it was. Everyone else in the store would have knocked before coming in. Everyone but his bride of six months. Sam braced himself.
“I just fired that kid in produce!” Rhoda snapped. “He’s useless!”
Sam spun around. “You fired him! When we need all the help we can get, you fired him! Ten to one he’s outside giving an interview right now.”
“He was rude to me when I tried to show him how to stack tomatoes. Then he actually said it was no wonder everyone calls me The Skunk!”
Sam blinked. “The Skunk?”
“The Skunk. Behind my back, that’s what they call me.”
That’s pretty good Sam thought as he stared at the white stripe in Rhoda’s jet black hair. He was amused and embarrassed at the same time. The folks around here have her number, and they must think I’m an idiot for marrying her. “You had no right to fire that boy,” he said angrily. “Zach tries hard and he’s a good kid. I’m going to go out and try and catch him.”
“And go against my wishes?” Rhoda asked, appalled. “With all I’m doing to keep this place going today?”
Sam pointed his finger at her. “I can tell you one thing right now. I wouldn’t have even needed your help around here if you hadn’t tortured me into giving those stupid pictures to my five key workers. We were like family until you came along. Millionaires or not, they would have been here first thing this morning to help us get through the Festival, and we would have had ourselves a blast!”
“How dare you?” Rhoda asked, her eyes blazing.
“How dare you?”
“I’m packing my bags and heading to Boston for the weekend. Thank God my apartment hasn’t sold yet.” She rushed past him, hurrying back into the store. “Enjoy the Festival!” she screamed over her shoulder.
“I will now!” he called after her, as customers stopped pushing their carts to hear the exchange. “And do me a favor,” he added, unable to contain himself, “take your la-dee-dah apartment off the market!”
As one, the customers burst into applause.
18
That’s where he was all night! On the basement floor, listening to crooks make fun of him and all the other people they swindled!” Alvirah exclaimed, as she, Regan, Jack, and Glenda drove to Duncan’s house.
“Yes!” Glenda answered.
“I’m sure glad he got his hands on their ticket. You mean to say that he gave it to you to hold?”
“He didn’t know what else to do. I think he’s in shock.”
“Must be,” Alvirah murmured. “Can I see it?”
“Sure. I’m scared to death to be carrying this ticket. I keep feeling in my pocket to make sure it’s still there.” Glenda pulled it out. “Here it is.”
Reverently, Alvirah took the ticket, studied it, shook her head, and leaned forward. “Have a look for yourself, Regan. I doubt if you’ll hold anything worth that much again.”
Jack had been listening intently. “You know, Glenda,” he began, “Duncan may not want those crooks to get the money. But we’re going to have to hand the ticket over to the police. I can assure you that if those guys have been swindling people, there won’t be any payment to them until all their victims have been compensated.”
“Duncan would hate to see them collect on this ticket, but what he’s most concerned about is having them locked up.” Glenda paused. “Could Duncan be in trouble for taking the ticket?” she asked anxiously. “Would it be considered stolen property?”
“That’s the last thing I’d worry about. I doubt those two will be in any position to press charges against him.”
The farther they drove out of town, the more rural the landscape became. The houses were farther apart, and it seemed as though all of them had Christmas decorations. One farmhouse had a real sleigh with a life-sized Santa on the roof.
“We’re getting close,” Glenda noted. “It’s this next street up here on the right. The road curves a little, and Duncan’s house is the last one at the end of the lane.”
A moment later, she murmured, “Oh, look, there’s someone parked in front.”
As they approached, a van with the BUZ logo began to move and drove past them.
“They’re doing the ‘before’ shots for the lifestyles of the rich and famous,” Alvirah commented.
“Wait till they see my house,” Glenda said as Jack pulled into Duncan’s driveway. “I’ll get the keys out of Duncan’s ignition. I put them back this morning. I didn’t know what else to do with them.”
When they entered the house, they heard the phone ringing. “I may as well answer it,” Glenda said and hurried to pick it up. “Hello.”
“Hello,” a woman chirped. “Is Mr. Duncan Graham there?”
“No, he’s not. Would you like to leave a message?”
“Yes indeed. We’re raising money for People Against Government in Any Way, Shape, or Form. We’d like to schedule a meeting with him to get his input into…”
Glenda dropped the phone back into the cradle. “A crazy who wants to relieve Duncan of his money before he even collects it,” she said.
“Brace yourself,” Alvirah advised. “You’re all going to be hearing from a lot of them. People say they come out of the woodwork. I say they come from Mars.”
Glenda pointed to the stacks of papers on the small dining room table. “Regan, those are the notes on the financial course I told you about.”
“Let’s take a quick look and see if there’s any paperwork on the oil well investment.”
They divided the pages and flipped through them.
“They sound like geniuses,” Alvirah said, holding up one page. “Turn off the lights when you leave a room. Decide what you want before you open the refrigerator door. Holding it open wastes money.” She put the paper down. “You mean to tell me Duncan paid for this kind of advice?”
“I never know what I want to eat until I’ve looked inside the refrigerator to see what appeals to me,” Jack said.
“I don’t think there’s anything here about an oil well,” Alvirah grumbled. “Unless it was written in disappearing ink.”
“There’s nothing here,” Regan confirmed. “But they must have given him some kind of receipt for his five thousand dollars.”
“Unless we find some proof of a scam, our hands are tied,” Jack said.
“I don’t think Duncan would mind if I took a quick look around,” Glenda said. “He asked me to help him with this.”
“I know you think I’m kidding, but check under his mattress,” Alvirah suggested.
“You are kidding,” Glenda said. “Or are you?”
“I’m not. I had five different cleaning jobs every week. At two of them people kept money and important papers under the mattress. One of the others thought it was a good hiding spot for her diary. I’m proud to say I never read a word of it.” Alvirah paused. “Not that I wasn’t tempted. That lady was something else.”
Glenda headed for the bedroom. A moment lat
er, her voice triumphant, she called, “Alvirah! I can’t believe it! You were right!” She came rushing back into the living room, opening a legal-sized envelope with the logo of a gushing oil well, and handed it to Jack.
“Oh, boy,” Jack muttered. “Those guys are shameless. Let’s see what’s inside.” He extricated a document from the envelope, holding it carefully by the edge. “This may be valuable for fingerprints,” he explained as the others read it with him.
“They sure tried to make this look official, but I can tell you right now that seal is a joke.” Alvirah sighed. “Some of the people in my support groups who were scammed had documents that looked just like this one.”
“I’ll call my office and have them run a check on this company,” Jack said. “As soon as they verify it’s not legit, we’ll contact the district attorney’s office. They’ll obtain warrants to arrest those crooks.”
“Poor Duncan,” Glenda said. “He worked hard for every penny he turned over to those jerks, and all he ends up with is this Mickey Mouse certificate. It’s so sad.”
“Twelve million bucks should cheer him up, Glenda,” Jack said with a half smile as he reached for his cell phone.
Regan turned to Glenda. “Duncan shouldn’t stay here tonight. For that matter, you shouldn’t be alone in your house either.”
“With Harvey running around town, I don’t want to be,” Glenda said emphatically. “I’ll pack a bag for Duncan. We’d both be better off staying at the Inn with all of you.”
“Good idea. Now, where did he say to look for his cell phone?”
“It’s probably somewhere around the easy chair.”
“I’ll look.” Alvirah walked over to the chair. “Not on the seat, not on the armrest…here it is, it had started to slip down the side…” She had no sooner picked up the phone than it began to ring. She looked at the caller ID. “It says ‘Mom and Dad.’ Isn’t that sweet?”
“Let me have it,” Glenda said. “Duncan left a message for his parents when he was waiting for the ambulance.” She raised the phone to her ear. “Hello, this is Duncan’s friend Glenda,” she began then waited. “He’s fine, Mrs. Graham, don’t worry. Yes, he has won twelve million dollars.…you slept late?…uh huh.…I don’t think you need to charter a plane to be with him…. He’s at the hospital getting his leg checked out…. I’m bringing his cell phone to him, and I’ll make sure he calls you. Bye.”
She slipped the phone in her purse. “Duncan’s parents are what you call night owls. They just woke up. The first they heard of all this was the message Duncan left for them.”
“They must have clear consciences,” Alvirah said.
“That’s for sure,” Regan agreed. “But they were spared a lot of worry.”
While Glenda was packing for Duncan, Alvirah and Regan studied the framed pictures on the mantel. One of them was of a young woman with shoulder-length light brown hair. “This must be Flower,” Regan said. “If Duncan’s going to stay at the Inn, I bet he’d be glad to have her photo with him.”
Fifteen minutes later they were driving down a crowded Main Street, heading toward the hospital.
“It’s only a few hours until the Festival begins,” Glenda said. “What’s that up ahead? Oh, I don’t believe it!”
A reporter, with a cameraman behind him, was talking to a crowd gathered in front of the window of Pettie’s jewelry store. “They must all be gawking at Duncan’s ring. Let’s stop for a minute,” Glenda said heatedly. “Regan, that was a good idea you had for me to tell the others I was picking up the ring as an excuse for leaving the luncheon. And that’s just what I’m going to do. Jack, there’s a parking spot over there. Could you grab it?”
“Sure.”
“Do you think the jeweler will let you have the ring?” Regan asked. “He’s getting a lot of publicity, which is exactly what he wants.”
“He’d better.”
“We’ll go in with you,” Jack volunteered. “We’ll make sure he hands it over.” He parked the car, and they all got out.
As they passed the reporter, they heard him ask, “I want all of you who think Duncan Graham should spring for a better ring for his girlfriend to raise your hands.”
Glenda shot the reporter a look of contempt as she, Jack, and Regan hurried into the jewelry store. Before following them, Alvirah glanced into the display window, then stopped dead in her tracks. With a murmured apology, she maneuvered her way through the crowd to get a better look. Her eyes widened as she stared at the ring with its center diamond surrounded by petal-like semiprecious stones. Then she opened the top buttons of her coat, reached inside, and flicked on the hidden microphone of the sunburst pin that she had fastened to her lapel that morning. Whenever she was on a case and interviewing a person of interest, she always backed up her memory with recorded conversations.
As Alvirah entered the store, the jeweler was reaching into the display window for the ring, a disgruntled look on his face. He grew even more disgruntled as the crowd roared in protest.
“He’s not happy, but he agreed to let us have the ring,” Regan told Alvirah.
“What’s more important is where he got it,” Alvirah whispered. “Unless I’ve lost my mind, which I haven’t, this ring was missing after Kitty Whelan, the best friend of Mrs. O’Keefe, my Friday cleaning job, was found dead on the floor.”
19
Betty, what are you doing?” Edmund asked desperately. “Are you crazy?”
“Not too crazy to know that this girl has ears,” she said angrily as she easily held a struggling Flower in her powerful arms. She looked down. “Flower, meet your boyfriend’s financial advisers. They’re real geniuses.”
“What are you talking about?” Woodrow asked.
“Her boyfriend won the lottery last night.”
“Which one is her boyfriend?”
“Duncan.”
“Duncan!” both men cried at once.
“Yes. Lucky for him he didn’t listen to your advice.”
“He did follow our advice,” Edmund said. “He didn’t play, but his friends are cutting him in.”
“We didn’t follow our own advice,” Woodrow said. “We bought the other winning ticket, but we think Duncan stole it from us.”
“What? How did you manage that?” Betty asked derisively.
Sputtering, Edmund began to explain. “Someone was in our house last night. We heard a sound like something falling on the basement stairs, and like fools we didn’t investigate. But whoever was down there would have heard us talking and knew we hid our ticket in the freezer. We’re pretty sure it was Duncan.”
“Why?”
“We heard on the radio that he was missing all night, then he showed up an hour ago, hobbling as though he took a spill somewhere.” Edmund paused then added, “And we did use the numbers he told us he was planning to play.”
Terrified as she was, Flower felt a wave of pure joy go through her. She was sure Duncan hadn’t abandoned her after all. How could I ever have lost faith in my Duncan Donuts? she wondered.
“This makes it all easy,” Woodrow said. “Duncan gives us our ticket, we give him back his girlfriend.”
“He dumped her,” Betty hissed. “He hasn’t called her since he won. He might not be so willing…”
Flower, her faith restored in Duncan, tried to bite Betty’s hand.
“Down, girl,” Betty said, “or I’ll turn you back into a pile of mush.” She looked at the cousins. “If you do get that ticket, you’re going to split the money four ways with me and Jed.”
“That’s a little excessive, Betty,” Edmund moaned.
“Excessive? Jed and I can’t stay here now and neither can we stand around here with her all day,” she said impatiently. “We’ve got a full house. Some of the others will be back for tea.”
“I’m sure they will,” Woodrow said sarcastically. “Your scones are delicious.”
Betty looked as if she wanted to kill him. “Grab one of those dish towels. There’s twine over t
here in the drawer by the stove…”
What are they going to do to me? Flower wondered. Especially Betty. She’s evil. Flower felt Betty’s hand loosen its grip, but before she could even try to scream, Woodrow stuffed a dish towel in her mouth and tied it tightly. Edmund twisted twine around her feet. Betty yanked her arms behind her and held them for Edmund to secure.
“Let’s bring her back to the shed,” Betty ordered. “Woodrow, grab the tablecloth in that chest by the hearth. We’ll cover her with it.”
Woodrow did as he was told. “I’ll carry her,” he offered, the cloth in his hand.
“No, you’ve done enough damage by showing up here today. You’ll probably drop her on her head.” Betty threw Flower over her shoulder with one quick motion and waited impatiently as Woodrow fumbled to shake open the cloth and wrap it around their captive. “Jed’s going to have a fit when he sees this,” Betty grumbled. “Come on.”
Flower’s instinct was to kick, but she knew it was useless. She felt a blast of cold air as she was rushed from the house.
Edmund ran ahead and opened the door to the shed. Once inside, Betty dropped Flower down on an old lawn chair and roughly pulled off the tablecloth. Her eyes adjusting to the light, Flower took in the gloomy surroundings. A work bench was cluttered with rusty paint cans; shovels and rakes hung haphazardly from the walls; a snow blower with a flat tire was just inches from her legs. She gasped as a section of the back wall slid open and Jed, the kindly proprietor who had carried her bags, appeared. Behind him, Flower could see a large computer screen and an orderly work space with high-tech equipment.
Looking furious, Jed barked, “I knew it would be trouble for us when you two came to town!”
“This is thanks to your wife’s rudeness,” Edmund shouted, his voice agitated and trembling. “If she had just been polite and let us in…”
Dashing Through the Snow Page 9
