A Hard Bargain (4 page)

“When was the last time you saw him?”

She tugged on the curtain cord and made a surprised noise when the ugly plaid draperies opened. “Well, at least one thing works in here. Last time I saw Willet was about a month ago. Tilda fired him because he never got around to doing what he was supposed to do. He came by to pick up his clothes and his peanuts. He didn’t have much.”

That’s because everything else was stored at Frannie’s. “Any idea where he was going?”

She shook her head. “We didn’t talk a lot. I got the impression he didn’t like girls. He wasn’t no catch, neither, let me tell you. Tall and skinny with these wild eyes. Seems like he was staying with someone in town, but he could’ve just been saying that.”

I borrowed a piece of paper from the pad by the phone and wrote my number. “If he should happen to stop by, give me a call.”

She took the paper. “What do you want him for?”

“He needs to claim some property.”

“Probably just junk,” she said and blew a large pink bubble. The bubble popped, and she wadded the remains into her mouth. “That’s all he ever had. Junk.”

***

I thanked Sue Ann and went back to Georgia’s Books to scout for shoplifters. One of the nicest things about Georgia’s Books is the man behind the counter. His name is Hayden Amry, and he’s worth looking at, if only for the startling color of his eyes, a sort of blue-green color that makes me think of Caribbean seas. The rest of Hayden is perfectly fine, as well, but he’s spoken for.

“So what’s missing?” I asked.

“Not so much missing as rearranged,” he said. “Sometimes it’s a pack of baseball cards in the children’s section. Sometimes it’s a best seller over in the magazines. Our thief hasn’t established a pattern.”

“When did all this start?”

“Not long after the last full moon.” His worried voice made me suspect this conversation was heading into supernatural territory. “I think it might be something more serious than Georgia will admit.”

“Gremlins?”

He looked startled. I should have known better than to tease him. Hayden believes in everything.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” he said.

“I’m just kidding.”

“I was afraid it might be some sort of poltergeist activity, but there hasn’t been any damage. Gremlins steal things, though, don’t they, and move things around.”

“Hayden, I was being facetious.”

“Then I remembered the store had been built over another building that had burned. If anyone died in that fire, they may be trying to tell us something.”

Now I was really sorry I’d said anything. Hayden fixed his marvelous eyes on mine, his expression concerned.

“Do you think Jerry could come and hold a séance here? If we get in touch with the spirit, he or she might tell us what they want.”

“I don’t think the store is haunted,” I said. “Georgia suspects it’s one of the Yates boys. How about if you fill me in on them? They’re alive, right?”

“Yes, Clarence and Terrance Yates. Clarence is fifteen, and Terrance is thirteen. They’re always in trouble.”

“Well, point them out the next time they’re in the store. They sound like more reasonable criminals.”

Hayden wasn’t convinced. “They’re the kind of boys who’d steal comics or candy, not hardback books or gift items.”

“If they’re on drugs, they’ll steal anything.” I glanced up. “You have a closed-circuit video surveillance system, don’t you? Have you got these guys on tape?”

“The tapes have all been snowy,” he said. “Georgia says something’s wrong with the cameras, but I think it’s interference from the spirit realm. How much does Jerry charge for a séance?”

“I’ll let you two work that out.”

I wandered around Georgia’s for about an hour, but neither the Yates boys nor gremlins put in an appearance. Promising to ask Jerry about a séance, I left Hayden still eyeing the books as if they were going to hurl themselves off the shelves and went by the Goodwill store in search of duck head umbrellas. There weren’t any duck head umbrellas, but I did see a very nice easel for only fifteen dollars.

“That’s a good deal,” the woman at the register said. “Just brought in. It’s practically new.”

And tempting. I’d had one just like this.

“I’m looking for a certain type of umbrella,” I said. “Red with a duck’s head handle.”

She shook her head. “Got plenty of regular ones.”

“Does Celosia have a pawn shop?” I asked.

“Jim’s Park ‘n’ Pawn on Highway Three. Doubt he’d have umbrellas, though. He deals mainly in electronics and furniture.”

“Thanks.”

I started out and she called, “Sure you don’t want the easel?”

No, I wasn’t sure. “I’ll think about it,” I said.

I leaned on my car and called Jim of Jim’s Park ‘n’ Pawn. He didn’t have any umbrellas. He had plenty of VCRs, camcorders, digital cameras, and sleeper sofas. I had just turned off my cell phone when the Pageantoids rounded the corner.

“Madeline!”

Celosia is just too damn small. I sighed and tried to smile. “Hello.”

They rushed up to me. I don’t know if they plan this, but they always dress alike. Mitch had on khaki slacks and a pink golf shirt. Cathy was wadded into a khaki and pink jogging suit.

“Madeline, we had no idea!” she said. “When you said you were a detective, we didn’t dream for a minute you solved actual crimes!”

Mitch grabbed my hand and shook it. “The people in town said you fought off a real murderer!”

Hadn’t these two been listening when Jerry told them I’d caught a killer? I pulled my hand free. “Yes, that’s true.”

Cathy could hardly speak. “Mitch and I have just had the most fabulous idea. You have to go on tour. A crime-fighting beauty queen would inspire millions of little girls.”

I laughed. “No, thanks.”

“But it’s perfect! You can be beautiful
and
tough. That’s the message girls need to hear.”

Just when I thought these two couldn’t get any nuttier. “Cathy,” I said. “Mitch. Calm down. I’m not going to tour around selling any sort of message. I’m going to stay here and do my job.”

Cathy wouldn’t give up. “But this is so amazing. It’s like something out of a movie!”

This gave Mitch another idea. “Cathy, we need to talk to the director of Voltage Films. I’ll bet he’ll say it’s a story that must be told.”

Anything to get them away from me. “That’s a great idea.”

“What crime are you investigating now?” Mitch asked.

Let’s see. Should I tell them about the umbrella or the library books? “It’s confidential.”

“A murder?”

“No. Some missing items.”

“Some sort of treasure? A lost will?”

“Some valuable items that mean a lot to the owners.” That much was true.

He looked at me as if I had answered the Final Pageant Question to thunderous applause. “How do you go about looking for things like that?”

“You ask questions, follow leads.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“No, but it takes a lot of time, so if you’ll excuse me.” I opened my car door.

Cathy beamed at me. “This adds another dimension to our relationship, Madeline.”

“It certainly made my day, Cathy,” I said and drove away.

***

When I got back to the Eberlin house, I found Denisha Simpson and Austin Terrell sitting with Jerry on the front porch. Denisha’s a self-assured little black girl. Austin’s a rugged little white boy. They’re best friends and Jerry’s biggest fans. They met Jerry while sneaking into the house via a secret passageway. Apparently, they’ve never met an adult willing to burp, climb trees, throw rocks, and roll down hills with them. They come over almost every day, in awe of Jerry’s giant screen TV, his diet, which consists mainly of pizza, cookies, and soda, and his enthusiasm for their most outlandish schemes.

Denisha jumped down the steps. “Madeline, did you hear about the movie? It’s going to be here, and Austin and I are going to be in it!”

As usual, Denisha’s sweeping statements caused a violent reaction from Austin. “We’re not going to be in the movie, Denisha! It’s a horror movie for grownups. There aren’t any kids in it. You always get everything wrong.”

She rounded on him. “I do not! I heard Mrs. Danbury tell Mrs. Forsythe they’re looking for kids to be in the movie.”

“Those two old women don’t know beans.”

Denisha flipped her hand up as if to say, I’m not listening to you any more. “Jerry, isn’t there going to be a movie at this house?”

He nodded. “I’m hoping they’ll film some of it here.”

Austin still wasn’t convinced. “When will they be here?”

“Patricia’s going to call me when they get to town. You want a Coke, Mac? The kids and I are having a snack.”

The kids could count on a snack every time they dropped by the house, as if Jerry needed an excuse.

“That would be nice, thanks. Did you make your phone call?”

“She wasn’t home.”

I wasn’t sure I believed that, but I let it go for now. Jerry went inside. Denisha checked out my dark jeans and red tee shirt. “You’re looking very nice today, Madeline. Do you have another murder to solve?”

“No, but I have some very exciting cases.”

“Tell us!”

I sat down in one of the rocking chairs. “Well, there’s the Case of the Leftover Boxes, the Case of the Missing Umbrella, and now, the Case of the Overdue Library Books. I really don’t know which one to solve first.”

She gave me a look. “You’re not being serious, are you?”

“No. That’s called irony. You run into it a lot when you’re an adult.”

Austin caught on, too. “So there’s nothing really exciting, huh?”

“No, but these jobs will pay the bills.”

“What bills?” Denisha asked. “You’re living here free, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I want to get my own place.”

“How come? Ain’t you and Jerry a couple?”

“Not yet.”

“Oh,” she said. She thought it over and nodded wisely. “Kinda like me and Austin.”

Austin was scandalized. “Denisha! I told you not to say things like that!”

He bolted into the house. Denisha just sighed and flipped her hand up again, this time as if waving Austin away. “Men,” she said.

“How true, Denisha, how true.”

Jerry came back with my Coke in time to hear this. “What’s true?”

“Denisha and I were just having a girl talk.”

“Well, what do you girls think of this?” He took a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Des’s latest CD is coming out this fall.”

“That’s great.” I took the Coke and the paper. It was an article from a magazine with a review of the CD. “‘Masterful control of the keyboard, sensitive rendition, amazing technique.’ Nice, very nice.”

“This your brother that plays the piano like you?” Denisha asked.

“Way better than me.” Jerry sat down. “He’s on tour right now. Japan, Italy, Australia. All the big concert halls.”

The phone rang. From somewhere in the house, Austin called, “I’ll get it!”

In a few minutes, he came out, scowling. He still hadn’t forgiven Denisha for her remark. “That was your aunt, Denisha. We’ve gotta go.”

“Okay. See you later, Madeline. By, Jerry.”

Denisha and Austin picked up their bikes from under the trees and rode off down the driveway. I handed the review back to Jerry.

“Will Des be back in time for Tucker’s wedding?”

“I don’t know.” He immediately changed the subject. “This is a such a great review. I knew he could do it.”

“I think all you Fairweather boys are very talented.”

“Well, you have Des the Musician, Tucker the Gardener, and me the Screw-Up. One in every family.”

“You aren’t a screw-up.”

“Not much of anything else.”

“Have you tried being anything else?”

“Aimless. Carefree.”

“Besides that. What do you want, Jerry?”

He started to say something. Then he shook his head, took a drink of Coke, and said, “I don’t know.”

“What about the history course at PCC? Are you interested in that?”

“I don’t really want to go back to school. My studying days are over. Not that I ever did that much studying.”

“Something in the theater, maybe?”

“It’s fun, but I don’t think it’s something I’d want to do all the time.”

I didn’t want to suggest anything remotely paranormal, but I’d promised Hayden I’d ask about a séance at the store.

“Hayden’s worried the bookstore may be haunted. Could you say a few magic words and make the boogiemen go away?”

“Sure. That’s my idea of fun, too.”

“But it’s not a real job, Jerry.”

“I wouldn’t charge Hayden, anyway. He and I oughta work together. I’ve never met anyone so sensitive to the spirit world.”

I was going to continue my argument with the fact that Hayden was prone to mental breakdowns when a small red Ford Escort drove up the drive. Twenty hopped out, her hair in wild curls.

“Jerry! Have you rented your house to the movie company?”

“Not yet,” he said. “What’s the matter?”

“I just cannot believe this! The movie is going to be about Mantis Man!”

Jerry and I exchanged a puzzled glance. “Mantis Man?” I said.

Twenty flopped into a rocking chair. “We’ll be the laughingstock of the entire country. Poor dumb rural hicks seeing giant insects. It’s awful!”

Jerry leaned forward. “Giant insects?”

She sighed. “Here I was, hoping for a sensitive portrayal of our wonderful little town, and all we get is a second rate horror film.”

Jerry said, “But it could be a really good second rate horror film.”

She glared at him. “Jerry, just because you like all that supernatural stuff.”

“Well, I don’t know anything about Mantis Man,” he said. “Fill me in.”

“It’s ridiculous. It’s like that stupid story about the Hook. Teenagers out on a lonely road, their car won’t start, they see glowing red eyes and some ghastly creature tries to eat them up.”

“So people have seen this thing?”

“Drunk teenagers and old coots who have nothing better to do than run around in the woods all night.”

“What’s Mantis Man supposed to be? A mutated insect? An alien?”

“Oh, there are all kinds of stories. He’s a hobo who fell into some radioactive swamp gas. He’s a pet let loose from a UFO. He’s an escaped experiment from Peterson Air Force Base.”