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Authors: Pamela Grandstaff

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BOOK: Peony Street
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“You have any names for me?” he said. “Of the college kids?”

“No,” she said as she shook her head. “And you know Phyllis probably didn’t even bother to ask.”

“You said you’d heard a couple things,” Scott said. “What else?”

“That movie star staying up at the Inn showed up on Monday,” she said, “but that man who’s staying with her was driving around town a few days before. No one else in town has a car like that with a New York license plate.”

“On Friday night?”

“I have it on good authority that he was.”

“Did you see him?”

“I said a good authority,” Gail said, “but not one stupid enough to get involved.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Godwin,” Scott said. “I better not make you late for work.”

“Ava’s not a stickler about that,” Gail said. “Besides, she’ll be having her tea with the professor about now, and I don’t like to interrupt.”

“What do you think of him?” Scott asked her.

“He’s a stuck up snob and I can’t understand him half the time,” Gail said, “but nothing for you to worry about when it comes to Maggie.”

Scott didn’t even bother to pretend not to understand; it was a small town.

“Really?” he said. “Why’s that?”

“Let’s just say he prefers grad students,” she said, “of the male variety.”

Scott considered that the best news he’d heard all day.

 

 

Claire had a very deaf older woman in her chair, and was trying to coax her wiry gray hair into some semblance of a Doris Day style from her Rock Hudson period. When the door opened she thought it was her next appointment but it was
Stanley. He nodded to Claire and took a seat in the waiting area. Claire leaned back so she could see his driver standing outside the door, blocking the entrance.

“She’s completely deaf,” Claire said. “Go ahead and say whatever it is you came to say.”

Stanley stood up and walked over to sit in the second hydraulic chair. He smiled at the older woman, who clicked her dentures but didn’t respond.

“We’re going to need that book,”
Stanley said.

“I told Sloan earlier,” Claire said, “I don’t have it. I know Tuppy said he left it for me, but I can’t find it. Believe me, Stanley, there’s nothing I want more than to be done with Sloan and all her crazy drama. I wasn’t in on some plot with Tuppy; this was all him.”

“I’m going to need you to sign a new confidentiality agreement.”

“Why?”

He shrugged.

“Just a precaution.”

“I’ll show it to my attorney, and if he thinks I should sign it I will.”

Stanley
sighed as he stood up.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he said.

His quiet tone scared her more than if he had shouted.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Claire said. “I don’t trust any of you, and for a good reason. I’ve seen your work.”

“I’ll have the agreement hand-delivered to your attorney this evening. I want it signed and returned to me by noon tomorrow.”

He walked toward the front door.

“Don’t you want his name and address?”

Stanley
shook his head.

“Already got it,” he said.

He left the salon and Claire felt her stomach unclench.

“Was that your boyfriend?” the woman asked.

Claire shook her head.

“Snappy dresser,” the woman said.

 

 

At five o’clock Claire picked up Mackie Pea from Skip’s mother’s house and feigned delight over the pink coat she had made for the little dog. It had purple crocheted trim all around the hem, and purple crocheted buttons down her tummy. Her little front legs were stuck through its sleeves and it had a little pink hood with a purple tassel.

“I just love her,” the older woman said. “It gets so cold here
at night and I hate to think of her shivering.”

Claire thanked her and made her promise to come in for a free haircut. She then took Mackie Pea for a walk to the Rose and Thorn to collect her father. Mackie seemed to be proud of her new sweater, and strutted down the sidewalk with her head held high. Claire didn’t have the heart to take it off.

“All this time I thought you were so high class,” she told the dog, “when actually you’re just a good ole girl at heart.”

Ian was sitting in the back booth with Sam and Scott. He scooped up Mackie Pea, set her on the table in front of him and began feeding her peanuts.

“Look at your fancy new coat,” Ian said to Mackie. “Aren’t you the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen?”

“Well?” Claire said to Scott and Sam. “Where’s the key ring?”

“Sammy traded it to someone at the service station but doesn’t remember the name,” Scott said.

Claire felt what was left of her courage drain away.

“Has something happened?” Scott asked her.

“What’s going on?” her father asked.

“Nothing, Dad,” Claire said. “Are you ready to go home? I have another appointment at six so I need to get back.”

“I can take him home,” Sam said. “You and Scott go on.”

“I can take my own damn self home,” Ian said. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I’m just hoping Delia will give me some dinner, Ian,” Sam said. “You know Hannah’s idea of dinner time is whenever she gets around to it.”

“I’m sure she would,” Ian said. “Our Delia’s a mighty fine cook.”

Claire mouthed “thank you” to Sam, who nodded in return.

She reached for her dog, but her father batted her hands away.

“You leave my little sweetheart alone,” he said. “She’s staying with me.”

Sam winked at Claire and gestured with his head for her to go on.

Scott followed her outside.

“I guess you heard about Meredith and Knox,” he said. “What a mess.”

Claire hoped Scott could not see her face flush with shame. It was so complicated to be friends with a policeman, especially when you and your cousins couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble.

“I don’t think they killed Tuppy,” Claire said. “A confidentiality agreement I signed during my former employment prohibits me from speculating on who might have, so infer from that what you will.”

“I heard that gossip, too,” Scott said. “Unfortunately
Stanley got Senator Bayard to come down on Sarah through her boss. She’s been made to understand that going after Sloan is no longer an option.”

“Even if she’s guilty?”

“There were threatening phone calls and texts,” Scott said. “But she was thousands of miles away when it happened.”

“But
Stanley was here.”

“Yes, but just like with Knox, there’s no proof, and Sarah’s not allowed to look for any.”

“Sarah must be foaming at the mouth. Do you think she’ll come after me again?”

“No,” Scott said. “Knox is the next best thing to a movie star around here. She thinks derailing his political plans will do in a pinch.”

“Senator Bayard isn’t interested in protecting him?”

“They’re all distancing themselves in preparation for the scandal.”

“What happened with the cars?”

“That’s a dead end,” Scott said. “The pieces of Meredith’s car are probably in a hundred resale shops by now, and Knox’s car is at the dealership in
Morgantown, getting some work done.”

“How convenient.”

“So we’re left with Meredith’s word for what happened,” Scott said, “and she’s not exactly a reliable witness. Plus there’s every chance that nothing she said on the way to the hospital can be used against her. Thanks to Knox, Pip’s wanted for leaving the scene of a crime, not to mention unpaid child support and tax evasion. Sarah’s not sure who will get to him first, the feds or the police.”

“He may be safer in jail,” Claire said. “He’s also owes a lot of money to my previous employer.”

“There’s a warrant out for Pip’s arrest,” Scott said. “Any idea where he went?”

“None,” Claire said, and then wondered why she continued to protect her ex-husband when he so thoroughly deserved every consequence coming to him.

“Did Sarah talk to Tuppy’s family?”

“It didn’t come to anything,” Scott said. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m relieved not to be the prime suspect,” Claire said, “but I don’t want anyone to get away with murdering Tuppy. I don’t think she who must not be named would come here unless she was very worried. I don’t think her attorney wanted her to come. He usually cleans up her messes alone.”

“Maybe it’s just the book Sloan’s after. There must be some pretty damning information in there.”

“We may never know,” Claire said.

“You want me to hang out with you until it’s time to go home?” Scott asked her.

“No,” Claire said. “You probably need to be at your mom’s.”

“My sister’s there,” he said. “She’s still in denial about what’s going on; she doesn’t want us to call Hospice.”

“Surely she doesn’t want your mom to go through all that chemo and radiation,” Claire said.

“She does,” Scott said. “She wants Mom to fight this. She doesn’t want us to give up.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I called in my version of
Stanley,” Scott said. “Father Stephen’s coming over after dinner.”

Claire smiled.

“That’s good to see,” Scott said. “Try not to worry too much.”

“Keep me updated,” Claire said.

“I will.”

As soon as Claire got back to the salon the phone rang.

“Hi,” Hannah said when she answered, but she was whispering.

“What’s going on?” Claire said.

“Um, I may have put on a maid’s uniform, and I may have sneaked into Sloan’s room, and I may be hiding in her closet.”

“Hannah!” Claire said. “I told you not to do that.”

“Can you help me?” Hannah said. “She’s getting ready to come to The Bee Hive to let you do her hair but I’m not sure if the mean guy is going with her or not.”

“I’ll be right there,” Claire said.

When Claire arrived at the Inn she came in through the back entrance and sneaked through the kitchen. When she peeked into the front parlor she was just in time to see Sloan and the driver departing. Stanley was not with her. She asked the front desk clerk where Stanley was and the woman pointed upstairs.

“He said he didn’t want to be disturbed,” the woman said, “and I wouldn’t if I were you; he’s scary.”

“He knows me,” Claire said. “He won’t mind.”

Claire ran up the stairs two at a time while she tried to think up a plan, but when she reached the top she was as clueless as when she started. She knew which room every member of the entourage was in, which was a plus; unfortunately she’d have to pass
Stanley’s to get to Sloan’s. She knocked lightly on Juanita’s door, and was relieved when Juanita answered with a whispered, “Oh, my God, Claire, come in here!”

Claire was used to the sight of the ex-pro football player nicknamed “Teeny” sitting on Juanita’s bed painting his toenails. He jumped up and gave her a bear hug.

“She just left,” he said. “Wasn’t she going to see you?”

“She was,” Claire said. “She left something in her room and she called and asked a maid to look for it, but the maid can’t find it, so she sent me to help the maid look. I don’t want
Stanley to know I’m here so I need your help.”

Neither of them questioned her lie; Claire felt a little bit bad about that. They may have been comrades in arms while they worked for Sloan, but Claire knew either one of them would rat her out in a skinny minute to save their own hides.

Juanita led Claire out into the hallway, tip-toeing even though the floor was covered in plush carpet. She put her finger to her lips and gestured for Claire to follow her down the hall. Teeny stayed back in the hallway to watch for Stanley; he was supposed to make a ruckus if Stanley came out of his room.

As they passed
Stanley’s room Claire could hear him through the door, talking on the phone. She was relieved they were staying in the new, thick-carpeted section of the hotel and not in the original part where the hundred-year-old wood floors creaked. Claire opened the door to Sloan’s room, quickly went inside, and closed the door behind her.

Claire opened the closet door. Hannah was huddle in a knot down in the corner of the closet with her hands covering her eyes and her head tucked forward, as if she was trying to make herself as small as she could, if not invisible.

“Don’t kill me, I’m the mother of a small child,” Hannah said.

“Hannah,” Claire hissed, “come on.”

Hannah uncovered her eyes and crawled out of the closet. She had on a crisp white maid’s uniform with her grubby hiking boots and brown socks.

“I thought I was a goner,” she said.

“We’re not out of the woods, yet,” Claire said. “I told them I was sent to help a maid look for something of Sloan’s, so if anybody asks, that’s what we’re doing.”

BOOK: Peony Street
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