The Feed Store Floozy (The Penelope Pembroke Cozy Mystery Series) (4 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Within twenty-four hours, Wally
Powers had made himself the most unpopular visitor ever to set foot in Amaryllis, Arkansas. By the end of the week, there was talk of an old-fashioned tar-and-feathering. “He has a monumental ego,” Shana said as she helped Penelope, Mary Lynn, and Millie frame and hang Edgar Ragsdale’s pictures in the second floor front classroom of the old school.

“Tell us something we don’t know,” Millie said. “I thought Mike was going to throw him out of the Sit-n-Swill last night.”

“Do tell.” Penelope reached for another frame from the box donated by a craft store in Little Rock.

“He came in and ordered some fancy drink I never heard of, and I don’t think Mike ever heard of it either. When Mike told him the only alcohol he served was beer, Mr. Wally
Powers made a few ill-chosen remarks about hick towns.”

“Oooooo.” Shana raised one eyebrow. “Mike’s not one to tangle with.”

Millie shook her head. “He didn’t say anything, just asked him if he wanted a beer.”

“Did he?” asked Mary Lynn.

“Yeah. He ate the whole bowl of those special chips Mike orders from Dallas, drank two beers, and left without saying kiss my foot.”

“I hope he paid his tab,” Penelope said.

“Oh, yeah, he did that. I think Mike was hoping he wouldn’t, so he’d have an excuse to get tough with him.”

“Wally
Powers is the kind who’d file charges for assault and battery if you looked at him wrong,” Mary Lynn said. “Maybe he’ll find all the dirt he needs pretty soon and get out of town.”

“Don’t count on it,” Shana said. “I saw him this morning with a woman.”

Mary Lynn looked up. “Surely not anyone from around here?”

“I’ve never seen her in town before. She had the big-city look.”

“I wonder who she is,” Penelope said.

“She was lugging a couple of camera cases into the feed store. Wally
Powers had a big light and a tripod.”

“A photo shoot at the local..”

Mary Lynn glared at Penelope. “Even if people don’t read what he wrote, they’ll look at pictures.”

“We’re going to scoop him,” Penelope said. “We open next week.”

“If we pass the fire inspection.”

“When is Ed Biggs coming?”

“In the morning so he said.”

“We’ve got the smoke alarms and the sprinklers,” Penelope said. “The boiler’s in good shape, Peter’s friend built the handicap ramp for the back door, and Jessie Ruth and Jeremiah have moved on to greener pastures.”

“Or deeper holes.” Shana giggled.

“I was afraid we were going to have to have an exorcism,” Millie said.

“Not a joking matter,” Mary Lynn cautioned her in an almost-whisper. “The Church takes that very seriously.”

“Sorry, I’m Methodist, remember.”

“Afternoon, ladies.” Police detective Bradley Pembroke stood in the door.

“Please tell us this isn’t official,” Mary Lynn moaned. “Every time you show up here, there’s trouble brewing.”

Bradley grinned. “Yes and no.”

“I knew it.”

Bradley strolled into the room. “Actually, I just brought you a little inside information.”

Penelope reached to pat his cheek and thought better of it. “That we might take.”

“Wally Powers brought in a professional photographer from out of state.”

“We knew that,” Shana said. “I saw her.”

“Ah, but I know who she is. She’s got a list of credits and awards as long as both my arms. Brice Dolan showed me her resume. Jill Jerome from St. Louis.”

“Why did he show it to you?” asked Penelope.

“I’m not sure. He also mentioned he had the downstairs ready to move into. A truck is bringing a shipment of antiques this afternoon. He wants to open next week.”

“Just because we’re opening the community center, I’ll bet,” Mary Lynn said. “He’s a snake-in-the-grass, and I wish somebody would step on him. Or better still, go after him with a hoe and whack his head off.”

“Now, Aunt Mary, he’s okay. You can’t blame a man for doing what’s good for his business.”

“But not good for this town.”

“That remains to be seen. And speaking of that, I guess you know Parnell’s been digging around in the old police records, trying to find out something about Malachi Sanborn and Daniel Dolan.” Bradley crossed his arms, the way Penelope had seen him do a hundred times when he was about to drop a bombshell.

“And?” Penelope prompted him.

“And he found the file.”

In unison, the women stopped what they were doing and gave him their full attention.

“It seems Daniel Dolan found out one of his daughters was working upstairs on the sly. He told Malachi to put a stop to it, or he’d go public with what everybody already knew anyway. When Malachi refused, Daniel drew on him. He wasn’t a marksman, however, so it wasn’t a clean kill. Old Malachi lingered for a week, and Daniel cooled his heels in the jail that used to be where the fire station is now. Meanwhile, Malachi’s wife, who just happened to have title to the property, closed the saloon, and started proceedings to sell it.”

“Why’d she wait so long?” Shana asked and snickered.

“You know the old saying about the wife being the last to know. Well, she didn’t know about the second floor, just the saloon, and while she didn’t approve of her husband being in the saloon business, it was bringing in a nice living for her and the kids.”

“So why kill the goose that laid the golden egg?” Penelope asked.

“She took the money and left town as soon as Malachi was buried.”

“What happened to Daniel Dolan?”

Bradley grinned. “He was acquitted.”

“But it was cold-blooded murder,” Millie said.

“Apparently, the jury thought it was good riddance to bad rubbish—the saloon, not Malachi, Aunt Mary.”

“Did Daniel Dolan leave town, too?” Mary Lynn asked.

“No, he stayed, and when his first wife died, he married again and had seven more children—one of whom was Brice’s grandfather.”

“What a mess.” Mary Lynn picked up another frame and began to unfasten the clips. “Wally
Powers will make a splash with that, I bet.”

Bradley shook his head. “Not unless he writes his story and gets it published before Wednesday when the
Bugle
comes out. It seems that after Parnell Garrett shared his find with Chief Malone and me, he took everything straight to Hal Greene. I think Chief put him up to it.”

“I don’t blessed believe it!” Penelope spun around again to face her son. “That sneak!”

A slow smile spread over Mary Lynn’s face. “Yeah…that sweet, wonderful sneak.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Amaryllis Weekly Bugle
hit the newsstands at the courthouse, the Daisy Café, the Garden Market, and assorted other places around town at two-oh-nine on Wednesday afternoon. By two-sixteen, there wasn’t a copy to be had, and non-subscribers were storming the newspaper office demanding another print run. Only a promise by Editor and Publisher Hal Greene, looking smugly innocent, quelled a potential riot and probable mayhem on the persons of the paper-carriers delivering to individual homes and businesses around town.

Jake sat at the kitchen table listening to Penelope read the story aloud, trying not to distract her with his
nearly uncontrollable laughter. “Parnell’s a good boy,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I bet that Powers fellow is furious.”

“I bet Brice Dolan is wiping egg off his face and wishing he’d stuck to what his parents taught him about not selling out.”

“What a story!”

“No pictures though. Wally
Powers will have those.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ll bet Edgar Ragsdale took a few of that place, and Hal Greene will find them in his files.”

“Maybe that’s why he’s putting out a special Sunday edition of the paper.”

“Maybe so.” Jake pushed back from the table. “I’m going uptown and see what’s happening. Maybe I’ll stop by the Sit-n-Swill for a beer.”

“Stay out of trouble, Daddy.”

“I’m too old to get in trouble.”

“That’s the problem—you’re old enough to know better and old enough not to care.”

Jake shook a long finger in her direction. “Don’t be a sassy-mouth, Nellie.”

“Just be careful.”

Jake’s truck was barely out of the driveway when Mary Lynn called. “I guess you’ve seen the paper.”

“Yes. Hal wrote a good story. He didn’t cast anyone in a bad light, and he didn’t dwell on what was upstairs at the saloon.”

“Harry says it could’ve been worse. At least Hal had the facts and didn’t embellish them.”

“He never does that.”

“I’ll bet
Powers will. Hang on. What
is
it, Harry? Oh, no! Don’t you go getting into it! Harry…Harry…”

“What’s blessed going on, Mary Lynn?”

Mary Lynn’s words spilled out on top of each other so fast Penelope had a hard time following them. “Harry just came in and said that Wally Powers is down at the newspaper office having it out with Hal Greene. He’s going down there. I’ve got to go. Harry doesn’t need to mix it up with those two.”

“I’ll meet you there.” Penelope slammed down the phone and grabbed her purse.
Daddy’ll be right in the blessed middle of it, too. There’s nothing he loves better than a good dust-up. I wonder if anybody’s called the police?

****

Penelope parked in front of City Hall to watch the crowd gathering in front of the newspaper office and recognized Jake’s bright yellow golf shirt squarely in the middle of the seething mass of people.
Oh, Daddy!

She wiggled through the crowd, mostly men, and tugged at Jake’s arm. “Daddy, come out of here right now.”

“Shhhh. Listen.”

Silence enveloped everyone as loud voices floated out the door of the
Bugle
. “It was my story! You had no right to…”

“You didn’t have the copyright on the facts. That’s what I printed.”

“You scooped me on purpose!”

“It’s hometown news, that’s all.”

Penelope saw Harry Hargrove, his bulk moving faster than it had since he’d run out on the football field with the team before every game—just to sit on the bench. His pink scalp, clearly visible through his thinning hair, poured a torrent of sweat down his chubby cheeks.

“Hal, you’re a Judas!”

“Now, Harry, better me than this tabloid wanna-be.”

Wally
Powers’ voice rose to a screech. “Tabloid! I never wrote a line for a tabloid in my life. I’m in the big time, and this story was going to…”

“You can still write it, Mr.
Powers,” Hal soothed him.

“Not as the exclusive I promised my publisher!”

The crowd drew a collective breath at the explosion of four-letter words and epithets. Penelope gritted her teeth. Amaryllis wasn’t perfect, but people didn’t talk that way on the streets in the little town.

“Don’t be abusive, Mr.
Powers.” Hal’s voice betrayed a struggle to stay calm.

“Abusive? You haven’t even seen the tip of the iceberg of what I do to people who…” T
he verb he used made Penelope—and almost everyone else—gasp.

“Just go somewhere and cool off. You, too, Harry.”

“Judas! Judas!”

“Look, I’m hometown folks. This guy’s the interloper.”

“Both of you are! I’ll remember this, all of it! Don’t think I won’t!”

“’Scuse me, folks.” Parnell Garrett, who towered over most of the people standing on the sidewalk, eased his way through the tangle of bodies. “’Scuse me, Mr. Kelley. All ya’ll need to go on now.”

He disappeared into the newspaper office, and in a few minutes, Wally Powers stomped out. The crowd parted to make way for him as he hurtled red-faced and fists clenched in the direction of the old feed store. Then Harry Hargrove appeared in the door and took the opposite direction where Penelope saw Mary Lynn waiting for him.

“Okay, folks, it’s over. Just go on about your business now.” Parnell waved his arm in a large arc, almost like a blessing. “Yeah, that’s it, that’s it.”

Penelope dropped Jake’s arm. “Let’s go home, Daddy.”

“I’m going to the Sit-n-Swill for a beer.”

“Just one.”

“Just one.” He grinned. “Judas! That’s a good one from old Harry.” He pinched Penelope’s cheek and headed for his truck.

Parnell paused beside Penelope who realized she was all alone now. “It’s all over, Mrs. Pembroke.”

“I know. Is Hal all right?”

“Nobody threw any punches at anybody.”

“I’m glad you took Hal all the
information you dug up.”

“I’m wondering now if I should have.”

“That Wally Powers deserved to get scooped. I can’t figure Brice throwing in with somebody like him.”

Parnell shook his head. “I don’t know, but Mr. Greene’s always been real good about not splashing stuff all over the paper when Chief Malone has asked him to wait. And he treats things with some dignity, too.”

“Yes, he does. He could’ve made a big deal of what happened out at Pembroke Point and what happened at the old school.”

“Yeah, well, the less said about that, the better.”

“I agree. Where’s Bradley this afternoon?”

“He had to serve a warrant out at Possum Hollow.”

“Did he go alone?”

“I offered to go with him, but he said he could handle it.”

“I know I shouldn’t ask, but…”

“I guess you won’t tell anybody. Harvey
Hadden.”

“Elbert’s brother…or maybe a cousin.
Elbert’s doing really good at the Garden Market.”

“Yeah, he wanted out of the Hollow, and he got out. More power to him. I wish more would do it.”

“That place—some of the kids are so bright, but they’ll drop out as soon as they’re able, before they even get to junior high school.”

Parnell shrugged. “It’s too bad. I
f they were just making ‘shine…” His voice trailed off.

“I guess that doesn’t make much money these days, does it?”

“Nope.” Parnell’s eyes darkened. “Well, I gotta go, Mrs. Pembroke. Nice talking to you.”

“Nice talking to you, too, Parnell. Come by the house for supper some night.”

“Sure thing. See ya.”