He looked superior. “Tammy, since you did so much of the work, would you like to do the honors?”
“Ten,” she said triumphantly, holding up a folder full of forms. “Eight retro, two gypsy. Including the new one I ordered for myself. Jerry did me such a good deal on it, I couldn’t believe it. I can’t wait!”
Ten. Georgie felt deflated. She’d thought with the added hook of telling fortunes, and Layla at her side, she would beat him.
It wasn’t fair. She should be the one running the division. She forced a smile anyway. “Congratulations. But the month isn’t over yet. What’s your overall total?”
His smile changed from triumph into something more predatory. “Eleven. So you’re ahead on points. You’d be up to twelve, right?”
“Right.”
“As you say, the month isn’t over yet.” He put an arm around Tammy’s shoulders. “And I have a new secret weapon. Say hello to the newest member of our road team!”
Georgie smiled sweetly at Tammy. “How wonderful.” She kicked Layla, warning her to be quiet. Let Jerry think he had the advantage. She wouldn’t tell him any more than she had to. “Welcome aboard, Tammy. If you’re selling retro, we’ll be in touch quite a bit about design. And,” she added generously, “I can see you’re a great advertisement for the lifestyle.”
“Thanks,” Tammy said. “I might need to talk to you soon, actually. Some of our customers sound really picky about the interior.”
Tell me about it, Georgie thought. Wait until Tammy encountered a few of the Customers from Hell. That might take some of the shine off it. She focused on Jerry again, pasting a resigned look on her face. “Nice move. Adding Tammy to your team is going to make it far more of a challenge for me, isn’t it?”
“That’s what it’s all about.” Annoyingly, he flicked her nose. “No rules, Georgie.”
“No rules,” she echoed. “Well, we’d better pack up. Are you staying for happy hour?”
“No. Back to home base for me; too much work to do tomorrow.”
Tammy looked disappointed. “Do you really have to go right away?”
Jerry hesitated, and Georgie could see the wheels turning. Best not to alienate his new secret weapon when he needed the sales. “Well, maybe not right away. I’ll stay for an hour or so. But then I really do have to go. I’ve got paperwork to do tonight, and a customer coming for his new RV at 7:30. He insists I walk him through it.”
“An hour’s better than nothing.” Tammy gave him a tug. “Come on, then—let’s not waste any of it.”
They watched the two walk towards the RV campground, and then exchanged speaking looks.
“You’re not telling him about me?” Layla said. “Am I a super-secret new secret weapon?”
“You got it,” Georgie said. “The less he knows the better. Let’s pack up and go and socialize. Keep an eye out for any more prospects for our road team. This is war.”
~~~
At the social get-together, it was quite clear that Tammy was infatuated with Georgie’s handsome brother. The interesting part was that he seemed to be quite taken with her, too. Georgie had watched Jerry-the-smooth-operator in action for years, and even when he appeared to be devoting all his attention to his latest acquisition, she could tell that he held part of himself back.
That wasn’t the feeling she was getting this time.
Tammy was popular. She seemed to be interested in everyone, and had a quick wit, turning some of Jerry’s teasing back on him in a flash. Perhaps that was part of the appeal, Georgie thought. It would do Jerry good to have someone who would challenge him.
“Good Golly Miss Molly, she can sing and dance too,” Layla muttered to her during a rousing rock’n’roll sing-along that saw Tammy break off from belting out the chorus to launch into an energetic jitterbug with one of the males. “We’ve got some stiff competition here.”
“Yeah. It would be easier if she wasn’t so likable,” Georgie whispered back. “Pity we couldn’t have recruited her for our team.”
Jerry saw them whispering, and came over. “Plotting, you two?” he asked cheerfully. Then, raising his voice, he said to the crowd at large, “Maybe we can convince Georgie to tell us all what the future holds? What do you think? Will we ask her to get out that crystal ball?”
“Jerry!” Georgie glared at him. “Nobody wants to do that. We’re having fun.”
“Fortunes are fun,” said a girl nearby dressed in black and white, with a headscarf tied in a huge bow on top of her head. “C’mon, Georgie, do it! I didn’t have time to see you today, and you’re going tomorrow.”
Layla tried to come to her rescue. “She’s been telling fortunes all day. It’s time to party.”
“Yeah, there’s too many of us,” one of the others said, sounding regretful. “Would have been fun, though.”
“I can’t do it in public, anyway,” Georgie said. “I need my crystal ball, and my caravan is way over next to the sales tent.”
“I’ll get your crystal ball,” Jerry offered. “And you could use Tammy’s trailer.” He opened his arms wide, inviting everyone to support him. “What do you say, everyone? We can make it like speed dating. Names in a hat, six people, five minutes each. Half an hour, Georgie—just for fun?”
Like speed dating? Georgie thought, aghast. If Rosa were here, she’d have him for breakfast.
She looked around. Everyone was looking at her expectantly.
Dammit, Jerry! she thought for the one-millionth time in her life. She knew perfectly well what he was up to. With his sister tucked safely out of the way, he could talk his way into another sale or two.
“OK,” she agreed, putting a good face on it. “But I’ll go and get the crystal ball myself, thanks, Jerry.” She didn’t want him in her caravan when she was not there, but that was only part of it. The other thing was that the crystal ball was hers, now. She didn’t want any of Jerry’s negative energy anywhere near it.
Half an hour, six fortunes. Who knew how that was going to turn out.
‘Like speed dating’, for heaven’s sake.
CHAPTER 11
The readings, Georgie had to admit, were fun. Especially in Tammy’s lime-green-and-white vintage trailer. The girl had an eye for design.
Good choice by Jerry. The jerk.
The questions were predictable: everyone wanted to know about things like love, partners, travel and career. To her relief—and surprise—even though she was limited to five minutes per person, her accuracy seemed to increase with each new client.
Practice makes perfect, she thought.
Her sixth and final reading was a woman in her early forties, who looked a lot younger with her Betty Bangs and smart navy sailor dress.
“Love your outfit,” Georgie said immediately.
“Thanks.” The woman sat on the seat opposite Georgie and smoothed her skirt. “I’m Jenny.” She opened her hands out in a “Whatever!” gesture. “Tell me anything you like.”
“Just remember this is a 5-minute speed fortune, according to Jerry,” Georgie said for the sixth time that evening. “No guarantees!”
“So you say. I’m the last one,” Jenny said with a grin, “and your reputation has gone before you with each person who emerged from this trailer. Whatever you’re doing, it’s working.”
Georgie said the first thing that came into her head. “Your partner doesn’t really like your dress. But you wore it anyway. You’re testing him…but you do love him.” She took her hands off the crystal ball, and glanced at it. The white mist in it was swirling almost angrily.
Anger.
“You have a lot of pent-up anger. Not with your current partner. With a previous one.” She closed her eyes for a moment, sorting through the information overload. “You’re not the only one. He had several women.”
Jenny’s hands were clenched together in her lap. “Wow. Spot on. With everything.”
Georgie sought for something positive under the anger, and found it. “You’re thinking of gettin
g married. To…Nathan? Nelson?”
“Nolan.” Jenny nodded. “So, is that a good move?”
“I don’t sense that you shouldn’t,” Georgie said cautiously. “I’m getting positive feelings about Nolan. What do you feel?”
“He’s a nice guy,” Jenny said. “Not perfect, which is good. I love him anyway. The last one was too perfect. Three other women he conned say the same thing.” He was really good to them—before he fleeced them and left them.” She picked at the white embroidered anchor on the full skirt of her dress. “Water under the bridge—but I’m still angry. As much at myself for being so gullible.”
Georgie sat back, her fingers still touching the crystal ball. “It’s what we all want, isn’t it? To be able to trust someone. To love without doubts.” She had a sudden sense of four women united. Anger. Cleansing. Laughter. “But you got your own back.”
“In a way,” Jenny admitted. “We used social media to publish the details we had on him—but the police haven’t caught him. That’s what we really want. Peter Fisher behind bars.”
Another impression came through, very strongly. Georgie laughed. “You’re going to get your wish. I see him in a cell. I don’t know when, but that’s where he’ll end up.”
Jenny sat forward, intrigued, staring at the crystal ball. “You can actually see him in there?”
“No, it’s more of an impression… a message that comes in images. In the crystal ball, I usually just see a white mist—an occasional shadowy figure, if I’m lucky. It’s more of an impression. But,” she said with sudden confidence, “he’s close to being caught.”
“Can you see where he is?”
“No, sorry.”
Then she felt the equivalent of a psychic shove; an almost physical thud in the middle of her back.
She gasped, straightened up and asked silently: Rosa? Is that you?
Again, a push. “I feel that I’m supposed to ask you something else.” At a loss, Georgie stared at Jenny. “Tell me anything you can. We’ll see what shakes loose.”
“Peter Fisher. Tall, dark hair, nice-looking, usually has his dog with him. Um. We’ve all got his picture on our Facebook pages, but from Ellie’s old phone, and it’s not a very good one. He was smart enough to avoid photos when he could. Last seen in Memphis.”
Perhaps if she could see a likeness, something would register. Georgie dug her smartphone out of the deep pocket on her voluminous skirt, and brought up the browser. She handed it to Jenny. “Can you show me the social media page you were talking about?”
“Sure.” Intrigued, and looking hopeful, she tapped the screen a few times, then handed it back. “There. That’s him.”
Georgie stared at the photo. Jenny was right: it was terrible quality—blurred, as though he’d tried to turn away. It could almost have been anybody.
She scrolled down the page, skimming the women’s stories.
Peter Fisher, con man. Preyed on women; won their trust; gradually got more and more money of out them. Jenny had sold her car to give him money to invest, and bought an old rattler to get around in.
Georgie glanced up.
“I know,” Jenny said wryly, her eyes on the screen. “I’ve kicked myself a thousand times. Stupid, huh?”
The sense that she was on to something got stronger.
Georgie moved on to the “Con Man Facts Box”—and froze.
Peter Fisher, alias Kenny Potts, alias Brian Marshall.
Brian Marshall… This time the feeling of being poked was so strong that she almost looked around to see who was there.
“All right, Rosa,” she said absently, her racing mind still making connections. “I get it.”
“Who’s Rosa?” Jenny asked.
“My interfering great-grandma. She owned the crystal ball before me,” Georgie explained. She tapped the facts box on the screen. “He calls himself Kenny Potts and Brian Marshall too?”
“We think Brian Marshall is his real name. Well, at least, it’s the only one that goes back to a real childhood—or so the PI we hired tells us. But he’s probably not any of those now.”
No, thought Georgie. Now, he’s probably Darryl somebody.
She closed her phone and stood. “I think that’s about it, Jenny. I’ll let you know if I find out anything more.”
“I hope you can.” Jenny looked at her fiercely. “I really hope you can, so we can all move on. I’d start my marriage happy if I knew he couldn’t do this to anybody else.”
Well, thought Georgie, he certainly won’t be doing it to Kaylene.
CHAPTER 12
Georgie’s first instinct was to hitch up, jump in the car and drive to Dayton, but she couldn’t hitch up in the dark—and she had to pack up the tent anyway.
Why hadn’t she got Kaylene’s phone number?
Or Scott’s, for that matter. She could have phoned him and asked him to make sure they didn’t leave before she got there. Not that Scott could stand in the middle of the driveway and refuse to let them past. Or could he? Georgie was prepared to do it, if that’s what it took.
She was up at dawn to pack up, and by sunup was on the road, arrowing towards Dayton with the red light of dawn in her rearview mirror. Seventy-odd miles wasn’t far, considering the huge distances you could cover driving across the USA—but when you were in a hurry, it seemed to take forever.
When she finally pulled in to the visitor’s parking lot of the Dayton Happy Days RV Park visitor’s parking lot, Georgie stuck her head out the window, peered down the access road and breathed a sigh of relief. Kaylene’s motorhome was still on the site. There was plenty of activity going on, though—both on her site and Darryl’s next door.
Darryl aka Peter Fisher aka Kenny Potts aka Brian Marshall wasn’t wasting any time.
She hoped she was right about all this.
“Georgie? What are you doing here?”
Startled, Georgie let out a tiny shriek of surprise. “Scott! Don’t do things like that. You nearly gave me heart failure!”
“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Guilty conscience?” He followed the direction of her gaze. “Still worried about Kaylene, aren’t you?”
She grabbed her smartphone and opened the browser, which was still set to Jenny’s Facebook page. She scrolled down to the fuzzy photo of Brian-Kenny-Peter and handed it to him. “Here. Look. Does this look like Kaylene’s Darryl?”
He squinted at it, and then swiped to enlarge it. “Could be. Difficult to tell. Yeah, kind of.”
“Enlarging it doesn’t help. I tried that. It’s too low-res. Read the page.”
Scott’s good humor faded as he skimmed the content. “Real nice guy.” He studied the picture again.
“I’m sure it’s him. I know it sounds crazy, Scott, but I’m sure Rosa was nudging me when I was doing the reading for one of the women last night. And his name is Brian—it’s the only connection I’ve been able to find.”
He handed back the phone, and stood silently for a moment, watching Kaylene disappear into the motorhome with a camp chair.
“Scott?” Please believe me, she thought.
“I was thinking I could deactivate their codes so they can’t get out,” he said, looking at the boom gate, “but we’ve a few departures this morning. I’ll have some unhappy people if I cause a traffic jam.” He thought some more. “What I’ll do is take the truck I use when I’m trimming back the trees and park it with the tail hanging over his site so he can’t get out. I’ll tell him I’ll only be a moment if he tells me to move. That’ll buy you some time.”
“I’ve got to talk to Kaylene. Without him seeing me.”
Scott looked back at her gypsy caravan and grinned. “You think he hasn’t seen you up here? You don’t exactly fade into the background. Besides, you can’t leave a trailer hitched up in the visitor’s parking lot.”
Georgie looked at him in astonishment. “You’re going to impose the rules at a time like this?”
“No,” he said, “I’m being devious. If
you can see him, he can see us. You don’t want him to run. I’ll go down there and complain about people who think they’re above the law and say I had to tell you to move to a temporary site. You can go down to 64. It’s a pull-through.” He pointed. “Next to the dumpsters.”
“How do I talk to Kaylene without him seeing me?”
“Go to the office to sort out your site. To pretend to sort out your site. I’ll make sure she goes there too.”
Georgie thought about that for a moment. “He’ll see us both go there. If he is this Brian Marshall, he must be getting nervous by now. I don’t want him to get away. Did you see how much money he conned those women out of?”
“Okay.” He ran a hand through his hair. “How’s this: you take your caravan down to 64, and then head for the amenities block and go out of the door on the other side and up to the office—he won’t be able to see you. Then I’ll ask Kaylene to go and see reception, because there’s a problem with her credit card.”
“It’ll have to do.” Conscious that time was passing, she made a decision. “Let’s do it.”
It all went as planned. Scott punched a code into the boom gate and watched her go by, and then reversed the RV Park truck out of its parking slot near the office and drove it down to the road near Darryl’s site. In a show of what appeared to be negligent parking, he stopped and got out a pruning saw. Hopping out of her truck, Georgie saw him wave towards her caravan and make a laughing comment to Darryl.
Georgie hurried past them towards the amenities block.
Unfortunately, Kaylene came out of her RV just in time to see her walk by. “Georgie! What are you doing back here?”
Dammit. Don’t wreck this, Kaylene, she thought. She looked back, pointed at the bathroom and mimed haste. “Sorry, Kaylene—I’ve got to run! I had to come back for a few days. I’ll catch up to say goodbye before you leave, okay?” She rushed on to the amenities block, barreled through, and was in the office within minutes.
A few minutes later, Kaylene came in. She went to reception. “Scott tells me there’s a problem with my credit card. Kaylene Waters? Site 37?”
Good to Go: Book 1 Georgie B. Goode Gypsy Caravan Cozy Mystery Page 6
