Georgie moved up beside her swiftly and touched her arm. “Can I talk to you for a moment, Kaylene?”
“What? Why?” No fool, Kaylene looked from the puzzled receptionist to Georgie and frowned. “What’s going on?”
“Hear me out, Kaylene, please.” Georgie took her through an open doorway into the adjoining mini-mart and brought up Jenny’s Facebook page on her phone. “Look at this photo. Is it Darryl?”
Kaylene looked apprehensive. She took the phone and stared at the photo, then did the same as Scott, trying to enlarge it. “It looks like him.” Then she peered closer, and reduced the size of the picture again. Her face changed. “That’s his cap. See the logo?”
The shape she pointed out looked like a white blob, maybe a bird, to Georgie, but it obviously meant something to Kaylene.
“Read what it says on the page. Quickly.”
As Kaylene skimmed through the text, the color drained from her face. “Peter Fisher…” She looked up, her eyes bleak. “He got a phone call from a woman one day, but he said it was the sister of a friend of his. The friend’s name was Peter Fisher, I’m sure.”
Before Georgie’s eyes, Kaylene appeared to wilt. “I’ve done it again. Losers, all the way. And I was ready to leave with him today. Sell my motorhome.” She shoved the phone back at Georgie. “We’re all a bunch of fools.”
“No,” said Georgie sympathetically, “just too trusting.”
Kaylene stood there, staring into space. “Now what?”
“Now we call the police. Sorry, Kaylene.”
She closed her eyes, breathing shallowly. “Do what you have to.”
One look at her told Georgie that there was no way Kaylene could pretend all was normal if she went back and talked to Darryl/Brian/Peter. “Can you just stay here? Out of the way? I’ll tell Scott to keep him occupied.”
Kaylene nodded, her lips tight.
Georgie made the call, and then went back the way she had come, out of the amenities and back to her van. Scott saw her coming and just happened to be dumping branches in the truck when she walked past.
“All sorted?” he said cheerfully, winking.
“Yes, no thanks to you,” Georgie said in a loud voice, sounding miffed. “I can move to Site 107 when the RV on it leaves. It’s miles to walk to the amenities. I’m not coming back here again.” She stalked off, and heard Scott say something to Darryl about women who were never pleased no matter what you did.
A backward glance showed a clearly impatient Darryl pointing at his motorhome and then at his watch. She just hoped they had done enough to hold him until the police arrived.
CHAPTER 13
Georgie had a ringside seat when the police turned up to talk to Brian Marshall. He didn’t take kindly to it, hurling abuse at both the police and Kaylene—with a special tirade just for Georgie, when he spotted her in the background. The only effect that had was to convince the two officers that they should take him elsewhere for interrogation.
She felt bad for Kaylene, who said barely a word as she watched two cops take him away, and then just sat on the steps of her motorhome, staring into space, one arm around the neck of the dog he left behind.
As soon as the coast was clear, she went over to her.
“I’m so sorry, Kaylene.” Georgie put her hand on Kaylene’s shoulder. “You don’t deserve any of this.”
Kaylene said nothing for a moment, and then sighed. “I don’t think I do either. What is it about me that makes me a target for losers and criminals?”
“It won’t always be this way.” The words were meant to be comforting, but as Georgie spoke she had a strong sense that she was simply articulating a truth. This was a turning point for Kaylene.
“Are you just saying that, or do you…like, know?”
Georgie pushed aside the usual tendency to doubt herself. “I know.”
“So I needed to have this happen?”
“You sensed something wasn’t right, and you came to see me…and fate, or whatever, led me to Jenny, and we learned who Darryl really was. Now he has finally been caught. You’ll get justice, and so will the other women he’s conned.”
Kaylene said nothing for a moment, and then sighed. “At least I’ve still got my home. It’s too late for them.”
Georgie leaned down and gave her a hug. “True. Is there anything I can do, Kaylene?”
“No.” Kaylene met her eyes and gave a tremulous smile. “Just thanks. I owe you a lot. I still can’t believe you knew his name was Brian. I’ll never poke fun at fortune-tellers again.”
“You mean you used to?” asked Georgie in mock horror.
“Well, you know.” Kaylene managed a small smile. “Fortune-tellers—you go to them for laughs, but you don’t expect them to be real. If you know what I mean. Even though you might hope…”
Georgie knew what she meant all too well. Fortune-telling. It sounded like something you’d find in a sideshow.
She left Kaylene to think about what she’d do next, and went back to her caravan.
Her beautiful gypsy caravan.
Georgie stood back and stared at it, thinking. It had started out being just a pretty little home on wheels that she could take on the road to wage a sales war with her brother. Georgie B. Goode, turning up in her cute vintage van, ready to draw vintage van lovers like moths to a flame.
She’d done that, yes… but they weren’t the only people who had sought her out. Clearly, there were people who needed her other talents as well. The talents that Rosa had been nagging her about for years.
What was she going to do about that? Keep her crystal-ball-gazing as a party trick to help sell caravans… or take it seriously?
She knew what Rosa would say.
She knew what Jerry would say, too, but for different reasons from her great-grandmother. He didn’t care about ‘all that fortune-telling stuff’. He’d just tell her again to leave the selling to him and go play at being a gypsy psychic, if that was what she wanted. Although he’d probably be miffed at losing his head designer. Even Jerry had to concede she was good at that.
She ran her finger over the carving on the outside of the caravan, and thought about all those retro trailers and gypsy vans that she’d so loved working on. She didn’t want to give that up, either.
And she didn’t want Jerry to win.
Why couldn’t life be simple?
The sound of approaching footsteps brought her out of her reverie. Scott, she thought before she even turned around.
“Hey.” He stopped a few feet away, watching her curiously. “For someone who just apprehended a wanted criminal, you don’t look too happy.”
“I didn’t apprehend him, the police did. All I did was put two and two together. A lot of it was luck, really.”
“Hmmm. No credit to the crystal ball, then?”
“Well, OK, some. And—” She cast him a sidelong look. “And a bit of pushing from Rosa, I think. Somehow, she has a finger in this pie. You don’t know how spooky she can be.”
“I haven’t met your great-grandma, but I’ve heard many people say the same thing about my mum. You’ll always get the skeptics. Is that what’s worrying you?”
“No. All this—it’s just not me.”
He didn’t look convinced. “It’s part of who you are. Only you can decide how big a part.”
Georgie eyed him somewhat sourly. “You know, it would be so much easier if you just said ‘Georgie, you should definitely decorate and sell vintage vans. Go and blast Jerry out of the water.’”
“You could do that too.”
“You’re no help at all.”
“Not up to me.” He smiled at her with true kindness. “There’s no hurry. You’ll know what’s right, and when it’s right.” He nodded at her caravan. “Are you staying here tonight?”
“No, I’m heading on to Cleveland to meet up with Layla and some of the others from the vintage rally.” Including Jenny, she thought, who would be delighted to hear of Brian Marshall’s arrest. �
��We’re going to visit the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, and then in a couple of days we’re moving on to Niagara Falls.”
“Uh huh.” He offered her a hand. “I’d better get back to the office to tell them what’s been going on down here. Been nice meeting you, Georgie.”
“You too.” She took his hand, and almost snatched it back again when she felt the instant flash of connection. She sucked in a breath, staring at him.
Rosa was right. Somehow, this man was in her future.
Which meant his mother was also right.
Dammit. Did the whole world know what was going on in her life before she did?
His eyes glimmered with humor; almost as though he knew what she was thinking. Nice eyes, she thought. A warm, rich russet-brown color. The kind that sometimes went with red hair. Scott’s hair wasn’t red, though; it was a light ash brown with—
Belatedly realizing she was still holding his hand, she gave it a businesslike shake, and dropped it like a hot potato.
“Well,” she said with false cheer. “I’d better get going.”
“Be seeing you.”
He didn’t say it with any loaded meaning, but she felt it anyway. Just as she felt his eyes on her while she swung herself into the cab of the truck and headed on up the road past him. When she looked into her side mirror, he was walking across to Kaylene, still sitting there cuddling the dog. She knew instinctively that he would offer what comfort he could.
Nice, she thought. He’s a nice man.
Then she resolutely turned her thoughts to selling vintage vans and seeing her sales soar past Jerry’s.
~~~
Three weeks later, Georgie cruised slowly into the RV Expo behind her father and brother. The man himself, Johnny B. Goode, led the way, at the wheel of the Big Red Devil, as he had christened his Extreme RV. The crowds parted, awed, dying to look inside. The unveiling of Johnny’s latest toy was a feature of every Expo.
His son Jerry B. Goode rolled along behind him, waving to the crowds from his seat high up in the cab of his black monster. It gleamed in the late morning sunshine, sending reflective flashes of light from the gold decals on the side.
And then came Georgie, a complete contrast in her gypsy caravan in shades of warm maroon and black with tasteful hints of gypsy gold. The Vardo van and truck with a matching canopy attracted as much attention as the two monster motorhomes that had preceded her. The crowds laughed, and cheered, and she could hear cries of “Go, Georgie, go!” as she motored slowly by.
She had earned her place in this small convoy.
Because, she, Georgie B. Goode, had won. By a whisker. Or a wheel, if you like.
Jerry had done spectacularly well, coming in at 28 sales for the month.
Georgie—and her secret weapon, Layla—had gone one better. They had matched Jerry at 28 sales, thanks to not only sales on the road, but also to Georgie’s phone calls and follow-ups to the list of clients that had been through the vintage van section in the past twelve months. That was Layla’s idea.
And the nail in the coffin: Layla’s own new retro trailer, sale No. 29. The perfect vintage look, but with all the cunning modern twists that she and Georgie could think of.
Well, Georgie thought, if Jerry could include Tammy’s new retro trailer, she could include Layla’s.
Hah.
The vintage van section was hers.
CHAPTER 14
At nine o’clock that night, when the Expo gates had closed and the dinner with industry professionals was over, Georgie joined her family for the traditional celebratory drink at the end of Day 1. As always, the venue was Johnny B. Goode’s latest and most extreme RV.
You could hold a wedding in this thing, Georgie thought, looking around her as she settled into the sumptuous white leather lounge. All four slide-outs were extended, and it was more like an apartment than an RV. The only thing missing was a rooftop garden, and she was expecting her father to figure out that one Real Soon Now.
She watched him while he popped the cork of a bottle of Dom Pérignon and busied himself filling glasses with bubbles, talking the whole time.
“…best show ever! We’ve already got more than a dozen orders for this baby. They’ve never seen anything like it. We’ve hit one out of the park this time.” With a wink he handed one glass to Angela and another to Tammy, who seemed to have become part of the family very quickly. Tonight, she had abandoned her rockabilly persona in favor of an elegant 30s style dress and Rita Hayworth hair. Perched next to Jerry on the two-seater opposite, she still looked retro, but also like the perfect accessory for his big black and gold motorhome.
She had been a real find, Georgie admitted, not only for Jerry but also for the Johnny B. Goode RV Empire.
Her father passed a flute to Jerry, and another to Georgie. “This is the perfect drop to celebrate. Limited edition, so sip it slowly!” He patted her on the shoulder and leaned down to whisper, “Great job, girl. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks.” Georgie avoided Jerry’s eye. He was putting a good face on it for the evening, but she knew he’d still be smarting. Jerry really didn’t like to lose.
“And one for my grandmother, who inspired all this—the original nomadic soul.” Johnny handed a glass that was more froth than bubbles to Rosa, sitting quietly beside Georgie, and then moved to stand next to his wife before raising his glass. “To the Johnny B. Goode RV Empire and all who work there. This year has been real ‘good’ to us!”
They all laughed dutifully at the inevitable ‘good’ joke and raised their glasses in turn. “To Johnny B. Goode!” they chorused.
“Well.” He cast a look around, his smile growing even wider, if that was possible. “This year was a landmark year. Not only have sales increased by seventeen per cent overall, our vintage van division has really taken off—both restorations for selected clients, and the modern trailers with a customized retro look. Gypsy caravans—who would have thought?” He nodded at Georgie, and then moved his gaze to Jerry. “The competition between my two great kids added a new dimension this year. You both did a terrific job, but the winner—by one sale— is Georgie. Who now heads up the vintage van division.” He raised his glass again. “To Georgie.”
“To Georgie!” the others echoed. Even Jerry managed a wry grin and a tip of his glass in her direction, but beside her, Rosa snorted.
“Thanks, Dad. And thank you all for your good wishes. But—” She paused for effect, and then looked straight at Jerry. “I’ve changed my mind.”
That floored them. Her father’s jaw actually dropped. Jerry stared at her, his smile fading. Tammy looked stunned, sending a quick glance from her to Jerry and back again.
“Jerry can have the job,” she went on. “He’s right, he’s good at sales. I’m OK, but I don’t love it. What I do love is being on the road, meeting people who live the lifestyle. I’d rather lead the road team.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Jerry said. “Live on the road?”
“Well, yes,” Georgie said. “Like a lot of our clients.”
“In a Gypsy caravan?” His voice edged a note higher.
“Why not? Rosa did it for years,” Georgie pointed out. “And she didn’t have portable solar panels and inverters and an Internet connection.”
Rosa snorted again.
“I think it’s brilliant,” Tammy said, leaning forward, her blue eyes sparkling. “People love meeting Georgie when they travel. And she’s such a good fortune-teller! Do you know what she did? She—”
Knowing that Tammy had heard on the ‘nomad grapevine’ about exactly how she had found the answer to the Brian Marshall con man puzzle, Georgie hastily cut her off. She didn’t need to give Rosa any more fuel for the fire. “I won’t necessarily be telling any fortunes, Tammy, but I want to travel. It’s the ideal solution. I’ll lead the vintage van road team, and I get to have fun.”
“But you’re the head designer,” Jerry objected. “You can’t disappear for months at a time.”
> “Hire another one. There are plenty out there.”
“You’ll still consult on design, won’t you?” Tammy said, her forehead creasing. “You’ve put your stamp on things.”
“Tammy, you have an excellent eye,” Georgie pointed out, remembering how comfortable she’d felt reading fortunes in Tammy’s lime green and white trailer. “Just look at your own vintage trailer. People loved it—and it was all your own work.”
Tammy sat back, looking thoughtful. “That’s true.”
With that, the worst was over. Even her father—who liked to be in control as much as Jerry—came around to thinking it could be a very good thing to have his daughter out there on the road.
Finally, Rosa stirred. She had said nothing—apart uttering a few snorts and haughty sniffs—as the discussion was going on, but now Georgie sensed that she wanted to have her say.
She had been expecting it.
“Help me up, girl. They make these modern lounges much too low,” she grumbled, putting a hand on Georgie’s elbow. “Takes half an hour to struggle out of one.”
Obediently, Georgie stood and helped Rosa to her feet.
“Come with me,” she ordered. “I want to talk to you in private.” Ignoring the others, she led Georgie into the bedroom, and shut the door firmly behind them.
“Get out the crystal ball,” she said, sitting on the bed.
Georgie didn’t bother asking how Rosa knew that she’d put it in her father’s safe for the duration of the Expo. Rosa knew everything. Kneeling down, she opened a small cupboard door and tapped in the combination of the safe behind it.
The crystal ball, still wrapped in its black cloth, hummed in her hands. Did it want to go back to Rosa? Maybe Rosa intended to resume ownership, since Georgie had disappointed her by continuing to work in sales. Georgie felt a brief flash of rebellion. She didn’t want to give up the ball; she was just beginning to know it.
“Come sit beside me.” Rosa patted the mattress.
Georgie sat, and reluctantly held out the crystal ball to her great-grandmother.
Good to Go: Book 1 Georgie B. Goode Gypsy Caravan Cozy Mystery Page 7
