The Feed Store Floozy (The Penelope Pembroke Cozy Mystery Series) (8 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Mary Lynn arrived on Monday morning while Penelope
was at the table double-checking her menu plans against the pantry list. “Are you going to be full?” She tossed her zebra-print bag into a chair and poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Looks that way.”

“Is that photographer person still in town?”

“As far as I know.”

“Harry said he talked to Chief Malone, and he said they’re no closer to finding out who offed Wally Powers than they were before. Also, Harry has everybody locking up the letterhead stationery since somebody’s using it to write Hal Greene.”

“I guess just about everybody has access to it.”

“Not anymore.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“Harry’s pretty hot about it. Chief Malone had Bradley send the letter over to the crime lab in Little Rock, but he says the chances of finding out anything concrete is pretty slim.”

“Well.”

Mary Lynn gave Penelope a long look. ‘What’s with you this morning? Wait, let me guess—the Gray Ghost.”

Penelope shrugged.

“Who
is
this guy anyway?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know, but he comes and goes here like…”

“Leave it alone, Mary Lynn.”

“If you say so.” She reached for her ringing cell phone, listened, and choked. “Oh, no! Oh, my stars!”

“What?” Penelope’s pencil lifted, poised like a snake ready to strike.

Mary Lynn, a shade paler than she’d been a few minutes before, held up her hand. “Harry, don’t get involved. Sure, right, I’ll be home at noon.” She clicked off and dropped the phone back in her purse. “That woman just told Brad that Brice tried to…” She swallowed hard. “You know. Upstairs in the same room where Wally Powers was murdered. So Parnell picked Brice up a few minutes ago. Harry was there.”

The pencil spiraled from Penelope’s fingers. “Jill Jerome’s a lying hussy. She told Bradley she saw me going upstairs at the feed store just before all her film disappeared. I’ve never been upstairs in my life.” She shook her head. “Darn! I wasn’t supposed to tell anybody about that.”

“You know it won’t go any further. I won’t even tell Harry. But if she lied about you, she could be lying about Brice.”

“I’d bet on it. From what I hear, Brice was passed out dead drunk under the pool table at the Sit-n-Swill until Parnell found him at two o’clock this morning. When is he supposed to have
tried putting the moves on Jill Jerome?”

“Harry only knew what happened because he and Brice were talking in his office when Parnell showed up.”

“What were they talking about?”

“Brice apologized for bringing in Wally
Powers to write the story.”

“He ought to be blessed apologizing to Hal Greene.”

“He did that before he went to see Harry.”

Abijah padded over to Penelope and opened his wide clown’s mouth in a mournful meow. She scooped him into her lap and scratched his ears. “I wonder why the change of heart?”

“Will Bradley charge Brice just on that woman’s word?”

“I want to know what she has to gain by making these accusations.” Holding Abijah over her shoulder like a baby, Penelope went to answer the wall phone. “Shana,” she mouthed, pushing the speaker button.

“Did you hear about Brice Dolan?”

“How do you blessed know everything?” Penelope asked.

“I can see City Hall from the front door, and also, somebody came in here and asked me if I knew why Parnell was taking Brice Dolan into the PD. What did he do?”

“Oh, so you don’t know
that.
Well, Harry just called and told Mary Lynn that Jill Jerome accused Brice of trying to—um…”

“I don’t know why you can’t say the word in this day and age, but I get the picture.”

“It just sounds nasty.”

“It
is
nasty,” Shana said. “I’ve got to go check out some folks with books, but call me if you hear anything else.”

“I won’t hear it officially, but I’ll let you know.”

Abijah opened one eye as Penelope settled him in her lap again. “Well.”

“Well.”

The women looked at each other for a long, silent moment.

“So tell me something good,” Mary Lynn said. “Tell me about the Gray Ghost. Oh, I know you told me to leave it, but I’m your best friend.  Maybe I could shed some light on the situation.”

Penelope hesitated, then capitulated. “I wish I’d met him before I met Travis. No, that’s not exactly right. I wouldn’t go back and not have Bradley.”

“So he’s Mr. Right?”

“I don’t know
who
he is, that’s the problem, but the way I feel about him—I wish I didn’t. We don’t have a future.”

“Why?”

“Whatever it is he does is
all
he does. When he’s not doing it, he comes here and tells me things like how special I am and makes suggestive remarks. I’m not having any part of that, Mary Lynn.”

“Travis is dead, Pen. In the eyes of the Church, you’re free to marry again.”

“He isn’t proposing marriage, and I’m not going to shack up with him.”

“I don’t blame you for that.” Mary Lynn leaned in toward the table. “But you’re crazy about him, aren’t you?”

Penelope nodded. “I guess I am.”

“Then things will work out. They always do.”

“Thanks, Mary Lynn.”

“You’re welcome. Now I’m going uptown and see what’s going on with Harry. He hasn’t been sleeping well, and this new situation isn’t going to help any.”
Mary Lynn slung her purse over her shoulder. “Call you later if I find out more about anything.”

****

“The Toneys told me something interesting,” Jake said as he redistributed the shredded lettuce on his ham sandwich.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, they said they’ve seen Harvey Hadden hanging around town recently.”

“Hanging around?”

“You know his brother Elbert’s working at the Garden Market and doing real good.”

“I know. So what about Harvey?”
              “Well, he comes into town for supplies from time to time, but you don’t see him real often. But according to the Toneys, he’s been here five times since all the trouble started at the feed store.”

“I wonder why.”

“I do, too. Five times in a couple of weeks is a lot.”

“And they’re sure it was him? He and Elbert look a lot alike.”

“Not to the Toneys.” Jake chuckled. “But then, when you live a lifetime with a mirror image of yourself, I guess you can see the difference between faces.”

“Did you hear about Brice Dolan?”

“He’s not drunk under the pool table again, is he?”

“That woman who came with Wally
Powers accused him of trying to do things he shouldn’t. Parnell picked him up in Harry’s office this morning. He’d gone to apologize for everything after he apologized to Hal Greene.”

Jake’s eyebrows went up. “So he had a change of heart, did he? Interesting.”

“A little late, I’d say.”

“Wonder if Parnell picked him up just for questioning, or if Brad charged him?”

“Daddy, maybe you should mention Harvey Hadden to Bradley. Or tell the Toneys to do it.”

“Why?”

“Well, the day Parnell broke up the brouhaha at the newspaper office, Parnell told me Bradley had gone out to Possum Hollow to serve a warrant on Harvey Hadden.”

“What for?”

“I didn’t ask. But if he’s been in town, since then, that says something—doesn’t it?”

“What do you think it says?”

“I just thought maybe it would be information Bradley could use.”

“You think Harvey knocked Wally
Powers in the head? What reason would he have had to do that?”

“I don’t know, Daddy, I just mentioned it.”

“Don’t you think Brad would’ve seen him at least once?”

Penelope shrugged.

“Is Sam coming back for dinner?”

“He says so.”

“What are we having?”

“Chicken spaghetti.”

“Garlic bread?”

“If you want some.”

“Bet Sam would like it. What’s for dessert?”

“Whatever’s in the freezer.”

“Now, Nellie, you know the old saying—the fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

“I’m not trying to get to his heart,” Penelope snapped.

“If you ask me, you’re already there.”

“Has he said something?”

“It’s the way he looks at you that tells the story.”

Penelope brought her salad to the table and sat down. “Lecherous looks.”

Jake shook his head. “No, darlin, it’s pure adoration I see in his eyes.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

While they sat
in the swing on the back veranda after supper, Penelope told Sam about Harvey Hadden. “I don’t know why I keep thinking about him, but it’s odd. His being around town, I mean.”

Sam twisted a strand of her hair around one finger. “Have you mentioned it to Brad?”

“It’s not my business to do that, is it? I’m not the one who saw him.”

“I guess not. So what connection would Harvey
Hadden of Possum Hollow have to a brothel-turned-antique arcade?”

“No clue.”

“Maybe his family has a history.”

Penelope sat up. “Maybe they do. The
Haddens have been around here forever, and all of them—with a few exceptions—just sort of existing out there.”

“Making moonshine?”

“I guess.”

“And maybe more than that these days.”

“What do you know about it?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure you do. You know things.”

He laughed and pulled her in for a long kiss. “What I know isn’t up for discussion, but you could find your own things to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“You dug up
all kinds of stuff at the archives during the goings-on at the old school house.”

“You mean about the history of the town?”

“And the people who lived here.”

She snuggled closer to him. “You’re saying I might do it again.”

“Why not? You have names and dates and places.”

“I do, don’t I?”

“Sure. I’ve got to go to Little Rock tomorrow. Any reason you couldn’t come along and spend the day nosing around the old records?”

“None at all.” She closed her eyes, warmed by the anticipation of a day with Sam all to herself.

“I might be a long time, but we could have dinner before we come home.”

“Have you been down by the river? The River Market?”

“No, but we could go.”

“It’s nice. Lots of shops and places to eat.”

“A romantic evening?” He winked at her.

“As romantic as we’re going to get.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “Guess I’ll have to settle for that.”

“Guess you will.”

****

“Anyway, I told that nice young man, the one who’s been so helpful in the past, what I wanted, and he said to start with the census, so I did.” Penelope put her feet up on the low rail of the local
Patio Taco Place and unwrapped a fat burrito.

“Are you going to tell me what you found?”

She turned to look at him. “You wouldn’t believe.”

“I bet I would.”

“Well, first of all, Malachi Sanborn was listed in the census as a
tavern
keeper.
”

“Tavern, saloon, what’s the difference?”

“Tavern sounds a little classier, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. Go on.”

“He lived on Cedar Street with his wife and three children. I know that because somebody had noted the address along the left margin of the census form. I don’t know if the house is still there.”

“You don’t know?”

“Not really. I get so used to seeing everything that I just take it all for granted.”

“You should pay attention to details. They’re important.”

“If you say so.”

“Sometimes your life depends on it.” He picked up his beer and took a long drink.

“Okay, okay. You want to know the rest?”

“I’m
quivering with anticipation.”

She scowled at him, then laughed. “Well, I found a listing for four single women together at the so-called tavern, so I think that must’ve been the you-know-what.”

He shook his head. “Come to the twentieth century, Nell.”

She consulted her notes on the yellow legal pad she’d laid on the table. “Elizabeth Berry, age 22, Sarah
Taylor, age 19, Charity Sykes, age 20, and—get this—Madeline Hadden, age 29.”

“Well, well.”

“In the box for the kind of work they did, it just says ‘at home’.”

“I’d say you hit the jackpot.”

“Madeline Hadden had to be some kin to Harvey. They’re all kin to each other out in the Hollow. Maybe he knew that. Maybe he was trying to protect the family name by killing Wally Powers.”

“I wouldn’t think the Possum Hollow folks would have any reputation to protect.”

“It’s an honor thing.”

“Oh, well, I can tell you, strictly off the record, Wally
Powers was shot once with a small caliber handgun. That’s not Possum Hollow style, from what I understand,” Sam said.

“How do you know that? It wasn’t even in the paper.”

“Never mind, but I don’t think Harvey Hadden owned a fancy handgun like the one the crime lab says the bullet came from.”

“Fancy?”

“Expensive. I’ll bet he keeps plenty of guns, but big ones for hunting.”

“Now we know where Miss Madeline’s Room got its name.”

“There’s a wooden plaque outside one of the doors that says ‘Miss Madeline’.”

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“You didn’t ask. So what else did you find out?” Sam signaled the waiter for another beer and sat back.

“That was all from the 1880 census. The 1890 census burned, so I had to skip to 1900. I found Malachi
Sanborn again, still a tavern keeper.”

“He had a long run. That’s unusual.”

“And I found four single women ‘at home’. Three of the names were different, but Miss Madeline was still there.”

“At almost 50? When did she have time to go out to Possum Hollow and procreate that clan?”

“Maybe she’d already done it. I checked for Haddens, too, and only found one family in 1880—a father and four children. Funny thing, there was an X in the box for married, so where was his wife?”

“Uptown making whoopee?”

Penelope choked on the meat and beans she was chewing. “Hush up, Sam!”

“Well, you asked.”

“And there were six Hadden families in 1900. I linked all but one to the children on the 1880 census.”

“You’re quite a detective.”

“I read a lot of Nancy Drew growing up.”

“Figures. So what are you going to do with all the information?”

“Give it to Bradley and tell him about what the Toney Twins said—seeing Harvey Hadden hanging around so often.”

“Then what?”

“Then nothing. Bradley can take it from there.”

“Don’t go out to Possum Hollow, Nell.”

“I only go at Christmas when Mary Lynn and I distribute clothes and toys to the children.”

“That’s enough.”

“What do you know about Possum Hollow, Sam?”

“There are hundreds of Possum Hollows in this country. I’ve seen a lot of them. Too many as a matter of fact.”

“Sam…”

“Let it go, Nell. Just let it go.”

****

They said goodnight at the top of the stairs. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” S
am said, holding her against his shoulder.

“For how long?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not long this time. Does that mean you’ll miss me?”

“You know it does, darn you. I don’t want to miss you.”

“I’m crazy about you, Nell.”

“That just makes it worse.”

“I guess I know that.” His mouth searched for and found hers. “Someday.”

“Someday what?”

“I can’t tell you what until I know. Just someday.”

“Will you be here for breakfast?”

“No. That’s too much domesticity when I have to leave.” He scattered lighter kisses over her face. “I’ll call though.”

“When?”

“When I can.” He put her away from him. “Bye, Nell.”

She watched him walk down the hall to the front room. “Goodbye, Sam,” she whispered.