The Feed Store Floozy (The Penelope Pembroke Cozy Mystery Series) (6 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

By Monday, the police tape had disappeared from around the feed store, and Brice Dolan stood on the sidewalk supervising two men as they emptied a large truck parked on the street in front. Penelope watched from a distance as the ramp lifted off the ground and became the door. As soon as the truck pulled away, she crossed the street and went inside.

“Hello, Brice. Opening soon?”

He lifted an antique mantle clock from a box and inspected it. “This weekend, I hope.”

“I see. Be sure to let everyone know.”

“How? Hal Greene refused to run the ad I took him the other day.”

“I didn’t know that. Well, put up signs in other store windows around town.”

“Tried that, too. Got turned down the first three places I went, so I quit.”

“You own the Daisy Café.”

His laugh sounded bitter. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry about all this, Brice, but you did sort of turn your back on your roots when you brought in Wally Powers.”

“He was a friend. A fraternity brother at the University.”

“So he approached you, is that it?”

Brice set the clock aside and plunged his arm back into the box. “Yeah.”

“He made a lot of people mad. There’s a better way to get information than suggesting their ancestors worked in a—uh…you know.”

“I know. I tried to tell him that.”

“And then you did do Hal Greene a dirty turn, promising him the story and not carrying through.”

“What is this, Penelope, Sunday School hour?”

“Nothing like that. I just came by to tell you I’m sorry about what happened and wish you well.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it, Brice. This town has had enough trouble.”

“And I suppose I’ve just added to it.”

“I didn’t mean—I better go.” Penelope had her hand on the door when a voice, dripping with southern honey, drifted in from the back. “Where do these go, darlin’?”

Jill Jerome wafted through the door and froze when she saw Penelope.
Brice’s face took on the color of the crimson velvet cloth on which he was displaying the antique clocks. “Oh, hello there.” The honey droplets turned to icicles.

“Hello,” Penelope said. “I was just leaving.”

“Not on my account, I hope.” A tawny mane of hair set off small, exquisitely made-up features of a face that looked younger than it had any right to look.

“I just dropped in to wish Brice luck with his opening.”

“Thanks, Penelope. See you around.”

“Penelope? The lady with the B&B?”

“Guilty.”

“And your son is Detective Brad Pembroke.”

“That’s right.”

“He’s such a gentleman.” The dripping honey thawed and became a gush. “He was so thoughtful after that terrible thing that happened to poor Wally.”

“It’s his job,” Penelope said. “I’ve got to go. Nice meeting you.”

“We weren’t introduced. I’m Jill Jerome. I came to take pictures for Wally and stayed to help Brice put his shop in order. We were all college buddies.”

“That’s nice.”
You sure as heck weren’t a fraternity buddy. Maybe a shack-up, but—
Penelope cut off her thoughts. “Bye now.” She tried not to sprint through the door.

****

At the library, she almost collided with Miss Maude Pendleton in a navy blue dress buttoned at the neck and wrists despite the August heat. 
I think she wore that same dress every day she taught school. And that knot of hair on top of her head makes her look ten feet tall even if she’s shorter than I am.
“Good morning, Miss Maude.”

“Penelope Kelley. I hope your choice of reading matter is better than it was in high school.”

“I try to remember what you taught me, Miss Maude.”

The woman shifted her book bag from one bony arm to the other. “Your son remembered his
manners when he came to speak with me on Friday about that disgraceful matter at the feed store. Fulghum’s Feed Store.”

The disgraceful matter is a murder, but whatever floats your boat.
“I’m glad to hear it, Miss Maude.”

“He heard Mr.
Powers had paid a call on me. A brief call.”

“I see.”
I can just see you beating him with that old skeleton umbrella, too.
Penelope bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing at the mental picture.

“I asked him—your son, not Mr.
Powers—if he believed I was involved in the matter. He assured me he did not.”

“Of course not, Miss Maude.”

“As I explained to him, Mr. Powers quite forgot himself and inquired into my background, something a gentleman should never do.”

“I doubt he was a gentleman.”

“He was not. He refused to leave on request, so I had to employ another method to persuade him to go.”

That blessed bony umbrella. You’re magnificent, Miss Maude!
“That’s understandable.”

“I explained all that to Bradley. He quite understood.”

“I’m sure he did.”

“I’ll be on my way now. My niece is waiting for me in the car.”

“It was nice seeing you, Miss Maude.”

The woman inclined her head, a queen acknowledging her loyal subject, and moved on, back straight, head erect.

I hope I age as well as Miss Maude Pendleton.
Penelope covered her mouth to stifle her laughter as she thought again of the umbrella and the luckless Wally Powers. Inside, Shana waved from the non-fiction section where she stood shelving books.

“I’m really curious—what does Miss Maude Pendleton check out to read?”

“Not hot and spicy, that’s for sure.” Shana giggled. “But she does like mysteries. I try to steer her to something safe.”

“Safe for her or for you?”

“For both of us. I saw you go into the feed store. What’s up?”

“I’m not sure. Did you know Jill Jerome is still around? She’s helping Brice put the shop in order. And she called him ‘darlin’.”

“Really?”

“He didn’t introduce us, but she said they went to college together.”

“Studied for exams together, too, I’m sure.” Shana winked.

“She didn’t elaborate.”

“So what’s the latest on the murder?”

“How should I know? I’m not in the loop. Bradley’s a good cop—keeps his mouth shut.”

“As he should. I heard somebody knocked the guy in the head.” Shana glanced up as if expecting to be enlightened.

“Then it had to be a man, don’t you think?”

“I suppose. Do you think the
Bugle
will have any details on Wednesday?”

Penelope shrugged. “If Hal has them, he’ll print them.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see then.” Shana pushed the empty cart ahead of her and skirted the circulation desk. “Isn’t it about time for the Gray Ghost to turn up again?”

“He doesn’t have a schedule.”

“You’re drooping. It’s time for him to come.”

“Don’t you blessed start on me. I get it from Daddy all the time.”

Shana widened her eyes, all innocence. “I’m not suggesting anything.”

“Stuff it,
Shana. I think a hot and spicy is exactly what I need right now. Well, maybe just warm and spicy.”

“You know where they live
in here.” Shana handed Penelope a plastic bag. “Fill ‘er up.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Responding to the door chime after lunch the next day, Penelope hoped it wasn’t an overnight guest. Though all the rooms were clean and ready, and she had all the staples for the pre-planned menus, the latest turn of events in Amaryllis had soured her on out-of-towners for the time being. She opened the door and found herself face to face with Jill Jerome.

“May I come in?” the woman asked, the honey beginning to drip again.

Penelope unlatched the screen and pushed it open. “Sure. Can I get you a glass of tea?”

“No, thanks, I just have a minute.” Jill looked around. “This house would make a great setting for a photo shoot.”

“Thank you—I think.”

“Let me guess—early 1880s?”

“Late. It was one of the first permanent structures in Amaryllis after Jeremiah Bowden laid out the town.”

“Did your family build it?”

“My grandfather bought it from the first owners. Daddy grew up here, and so did I.”

“I met your father. Nice old fellow.”

Penelope swallowed her outrage. Jake was seventy-five, but he was far from an ‘old fellow’.
She showed Jill into the parlor and sat down on the loveseat under the bay window. “You wanted to talk to me?” she prompted.

Jill strode to the fireplace and ran her hand over the carved walnut mantle. “Beautiful,” she murmured. “Yes, actually, I just wanted to tell you that you didn’t see what you thought you saw yesterday.”

“What did I think I saw?”

The warm honey turned cool. “Brice and me. I just stayed around to help out an old friend.”

“I took you at your word.”

“I wasn’t sure.” She ran her hand over the polished wood again. “I was so upset over what happened to Wally that I didn’t want to go back home right away. I worked for him from time to time, so his death was quite a shock.”

A shock maybe but not a life-changing event.
“Where’s home?”

“St. Louis originally, but I live in
Dallas now.”

“I’ve been there a couple of times. It’s an interesting place.”

“I have a studio there, but I travel on assignment a great deal.”

“It must be fascinating.”

“It is. When Wally asked me to come here, I thought it would be a working vacation.”

“Were you close friends?”

“Wally and me? We went to college together and kept in touch afterwards, but the relationship was strictly professional.”

“And you kept in touch with Brice Dolan, too.”

“I hadn’t heard from him in years. He’s married, you know.”

You’re lying through your teeth. I can tell by the way you won’t look at me.
“Yes, I do know.”

“I’m not interested in him romantically.”

“It’s none of my business how you’re interested in him.”
Maybe you were interested in Wally Powers, too. Playing both sides of the court.

“You’re right—it’s not.” Jill squared her shoulders. “That’s all I came to say. Brice doesn’t need any more gossip floating around when he’s trying to get his business off the ground.”

“I hope he’ll be successful. With all the tourist trade we get throughout the year, he should have good seasonal sales and be able to stay afloat.”

“I’ll keep this house in mind the next time I need a period place for a shoot.” Jill crossed the room toward the French doors leading to the foyer.

“That’s kind of you.” Penelope rose and followed her unexpected guest.
But you’ll get your camera in here when the Arkansas River turns to purple ink.

Jill stepped out on the porch. “I’m glad we had this little talk.”

Penelope crossed her fingers behind her back. “Oh, so am I. Goodbye now.”

****

Penelope found Mary Lynn waiting in the kitchen. “Who was your visitor?”

“The
professional photographer Wally Powers brought in.”

“Why is she still here? Is she a suspect?”

“Beats me—to both questions.”

“Why did she come to see you?”

“I stopped in Brice’s shop yesterday, to wish him luck and all that. She came in from the back and called him ‘darlin’. So she came by today to tell me they’re not involved.”

“And you believe her?”

“No, but I don’t blessed care anyway. Apparently she, Wally Powers, and Brice all went to college together.”

“They did?”

“That’s what Brice said—and she confirmed it. Apparently she worked for Wally Powers from time to time.”

“Did you hear about the letter Hal Greene found in his door the other day?”

“He told Daddy about it at the Sit-n-Swill the other night. I kept waiting to hear from you, but you never called.”

“You could’ve called me.”

“Mary Lynn, we’re best friends precisely for the reason we don’t crowd each other. I know you’ve been upset over all this, and I didn’t think you needed me asking a bunch of questions.”

“Oh. Well, the letter was typed and unsigned. Brad talked to Harry and Missy, his secretary. Actually, she’s the
secretary for everybody in the city government, all eight of them. She uses a computer and prints stuff out, and she said all the old typewriters they used at city hall were disposed of at an auction about eight years ago. So somebody stole the letterhead.”

“Makes sense.”

“It doesn’t make sense, Pen. Somebody’s trying to frame Harry. And by the way, we don’t own a typewriter either.”

“I didn’t ask you that.”

“I know, but I’m telling you.”

“Okay.”

“Harry called Hal right away and told him he didn’t write the letter. I guess Hal believed him.”

“They’ve known each other a long time.”

“Since high school, just like the two of us.”

Penelope took two sodas from the refrigerator, fitted the cans into cozies, and set them on the table. “I’ve talked to Bradley a couple of times, but he never says anything about an open case.”

“The whole town’s talking about it, though. I hope Chief Malone gave Hal some good hard facts to print in tomorrow’s
Bugle
.”

Penelope shrugged. “I’m sure he did. What people don’t know for sure, they make up. A straightforward story will go a long way toward stopping the conjecture. Oh, and did you know Hal found the body? He told Daddy that, too.”

“I heard it, but—so it’s true? Hal Greene found Wally Powers’ body?”

“Upstairs in Miss Madeline’s room, although how anybody knows whose room it was, I don’t know.”

“What was he doing there? Hal, I mean.”

“Maybe he went to smooth things over.”

“After Powers cussed him out? Hal’s not one for holding grudges, but I can’t see him going hat-in-hand to Powers.”

“I can’t either.” Penelope sipped her soda. “I’d like to see upstairs.”

Mary Lynn dropped her eyes. “Me, too.”

“Daddy said
Malachi Sanborn’s son came back to Amaryllis and raised a family, but he and his wife are buried away from here.”

“That’s right. Malachi’s in the City Cemetery, but his son, Harry’s grandfather, is buried up North somewhere.”

“What about Daniel Dolan?”

“He’s here, too.”

“How do you know?”

“I asked the caretaker.
”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s such a mess, Penelope. Harry’s so upset and…”

“I can see him being upset because he was questioned about a murder but not about his great-grandfather owning a saloon that happened to have the oldest profession busy at work upstairs.”

Mary Lynn turned the can between her hands and let out her breath. “No, you’re right. If that was all there was to it…”

“So there’s more.”

Mary Lynn nodded. “Malachi’s wife sold the saloon all right, before she left town, but her son bought it back.”

“Bought it back? Why?”

“From what Harry got from his mother, Malachi’s wife Emeline—that was her name, Emeline—was a shrew. The kids adored their father and despised her. Anyway, the oldest son, Harry’s grandfather, was about fifteen when Daniel Dolan shot his father, and he didn’t want to leave Amaryllis. As soon as he was of age, he came back, bought the building, and rented it out to some people as a general store.”

“Daddy remembers the store.”

“Harry’s daddy inherited it and rented it out as a feed store.”

“Are you about to tell me
Harry sold that building to Brice Dolan?”

Mary Lynn looked away. “When Harry’s daddy died, he left a large estate. You know Harry’s sister Helen married money and doesn’t need more, so she signed away her right
s to Harry with the proviso he’d take care of his mother until she died—which he did.”

“Very well, as I remember.”

“The feed store was part of the estate.”

“I hadn’t thought about that.”

“It wasn’t a secret, but we never talked about it.”

“You told me
Brice Dolan got it at a tax auction.”

“He did. Harry decided to let it go because it was an unnecessary expense. He knew he couldn’t sell it, so he told the Town Council he was going to let the taxes become delinquent so it would revert to the city. I mean, he was up
front about all of it. Most of Council members said they’d have done it long ago. Besides, it meant money for Amaryllis when it went up for auction. More money than the taxes would’ve brought in.  Basically, it was a gift.”

“I can see that. Did Harry know what was upstairs?”

“He’s never even been inside the building.”

“Why didn’t the other tenants ever find the second floor?”

“Because it was locked off at the landing, and they didn’t need more space. At least, that’s what Harry heard. But when Brice bought it with the idea of putting in an antique shop, he wanted the upstairs for storage. When he told Harry what he’d found, Harry offered to clear out the second floor himself if Brice would forget it ever existed. Brice said no.”

“Why?”

“Harry tried to reason with him—said would be bad publicity for the town after all the other garbage we’d been through. And, he didn’t think anybody would believe he didn’t know about it from the beginning.”

“But he knew about his great-grandfather getting shot.”

“Yes, but the family story was that Malachi owed Daniel Dolan some money, and the two of them got into a fight over that.”

“It just doesn’t seem that important, Mary Lynn, not after a hundred years and more.”

“But it is, don’t you see that, Pen? When Harry’s grandfather Oscar came back here, he’d made his mother give him his inheritance in advance. It was a hefty sum, and Harry’s mother, as an only child, got all of it plus what Oscar made on his own. Harry grew up in a very affluent home, don’t you remember that?”

“I guess I do, but nobody around here ever put on airs. Harry was just Harry.”

“His family had plenty of money, and a lot of people didn’t like his father. Harold wasn’t from around here, remember.  Even though Harry went to law school and has a small practice, it’s his inheritance that’s let him spend more time being the mayor of Amaryllis rather than earning a living as a lawyer.”

“Again, that’s common knowledge, but I’ve never heard anybody criticize him for what he’s done. He’s been a good mayor.”

“A few years ago, Harry ran into somebody at a city government convention who hinted that the Sanborn money was tainted. It bothered Harry at the time, but he just sort of put it away. Then, when Brice found that—that—
establishment
on the second floor, Harry realized where the family fortune got its start.”

“All right, it got its start in a saloon and an um-hum, but this is now, Mary Lynn.”

“Brice Dolan’s family lost their money during the Depression. By the time Brice was born, they were barely getting by, especially after his father died, and he always resented Harry for having what he didn’t have.”

“Why didn’t he resent some of the others, like Travis Pembroke?”

“Travis was older. It wasn’t the same. Brice saw this as a way to embarrass Harry.”

“It seems to me the town’s turned on Brice, not Harry.”

“For now. But if the finger of guilt keeps pointing at Harry, they’ll turn the other way. Now do you understand?”

Penelope sighed. “I’m beginning to.”

Mary Lynn got up. “And by the way, the community center isn’t opening on schedule.”

“Why not? Everything’s ready.”

Mary Lynn’s eyes filled with tears. “Harry says we…he…well, the two of us don’t need any more publicity right now.”

“Oh, Mary Lynn, that’s foolish!”

“It’s what Harry wants.” She scooted through the back door before Penelope could say another word.