A Hard Bargain Read online

  “They’re probably listed in one of the film guides.” She pointed. “Right down there next to the movie magazines.”

  We looked in several guides before finding a listing for Voltage Films.

  “‘A small, independent company specializing in thought-provoking and experimental films,’” Jerry read aloud. “‘Recent films include “Heart Songs,” “Cabbages on the Windowsill,” and “The Ever-Prevailing Theory of Invisibility.”’” He grimaced. “Doesn’t sound like they make the kind of movies that go well with popcorn.”

  “If they pay well for the use of the house, that won’t matter.”

  “That’s true, but I was kind of hoping for something more exciting than cabbages on the windowsill.”

  “I’m sure that’s a metaphor for blood, guts, and fast cars.”

  Georgia had followed us down the aisle. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “Yes, thanks,” I said.

  “Has it anything to do with the movie company that’s coming here? I haven’t seen the town in such an uproar.”

  “Yes, Voltage Films is the name of the company.”

  “Well, they haven’t even gotten here yet, and they’re already causing a wealth of confusion.” She readjusted her half glasses. “Madeline, I may have a case for you.”

  Great, I thought. She probably needs a subscription renewed.

  “Hayden and I have noticed some things out of place. I’m afraid we have a shoplifter. I was wondering if you could come in and walk around the store and keep an eye out for our culprit.”

  “Of course.”

  “We think it’s one of the Yates boys, but we’re not sure. They’re usually in here in the late afternoon. I hate to accuse anyone, but I know my store and what’s in it, and things are not where they’re supposed to be.”

  “When would you like me to start?”

  “Whenever you could drop by. Hayden is coming in after lunch. He can tell you more about it.”

  Jerry and I thanked her for the use of the video guide and left the store.

  “Shoplifting. Now that’s more like it,” Jerry said.

  “Yep. A regular crime wave.”

  We walked on to the Arrow Insurance building near the end of Main Street.

  “Okay,” I said, “don’t expect much, but it’s a start.”

  Once inside the building, we took a short walk down the hall to my office. Jerry admired the sign on the door.

  “Wish I had my camera,” he said.

  I unlocked the door and pushed it open for him to enter. I had a small but serviceable desk, a new beige filing cabinet, and two chairs, a swivel chair for me and a beige and green armchair for my clients.

  Jerry plopped into the armchair. “This is nice. It’ll make people feel comfortable when discussing those embarrassing secrets.”

  “I hope so.” I sat down in the swivel chair. “The computer and printer will be delivered next Monday. The phone lines are already in.”

  The window offered a view of the side yard, grass and trees and the swing set in the backyard of the neighboring house, a far cry from my hot little cubicle in Parkland. There, I had a splendid view of bricks.

  Jerry looked around at the bare walls. “Any plans for decoration?”

  “How about a big picture of me as Miss Parkland? That would inspire confidence.”

  He grinned. “I was thinking a couple of original landscapes would brighten up the place.”

  My glare warned him to drop the subject. At one time, I’d dreamed of a career as an artist. Lately, the urge had surfaced, but I kept pushing it down. The memory of my one disastrous show was still too painful.

  “Maybe I’ll just get a big fish, like Ted,” I said.

  As if invoking his name called him to my door, Ted Stacy looked in and said, “I thought I heard you in here. Good morning. Hi, Jerry. What do you think?”

  “This is really nice,” Jerry said. “We were just saying all it needs a big fish on the wall.”

  “Oh, I’ve got a new one. Come have a look.”

  We walked next door to Ted’s office. An impressive sailfish was mounted above the bookcase.

  “Wow, that is neat,” Jerry said.

  “Took me five hours to land.”

  As the guys talked about fishing, I indulged in one of my ongoing comparisons, in a desperate attempt to talk myself out of wanting Jerry. Here’s Ted Stacy, tall, dark, handsome, and successful, a real Southern gentleman, who arranged for me to rent the empty office in his building, who took me to dinner, complimented me, and made me feel welcome in Celosia without feeling I owed him anything in return.

  And here’s Jerry. He’s not as tall as Ted, which means he’s not as tall as I am. His light brown hair has a tendency to stray. He could easily be the poster child for attention deficit disorder. He enjoys making people think he has connections with the spirit world and will relieve them of their money if they let him.

  But that smile. Damn.

  Ted finished his fish tale. “So I guess you’ve heard about the movie.”

  “Yeah,” Jerry said. “I’m hoping they’ll use the Eberlin house for a set.”

  “Depends on what kind of movie they’re making. I thought it was going to be one of those slice of life pictures where nothing happens but a lot of talking.”

  “There has to be at least one car chase, or I’m not interested.”

  “Excuse me?”

  A timid voice made us turn. A dark-haired woman stood in the doorway clutching a large pocketbook. “I’d like to speak to Madeline Maclin,” she said.

  “I’m Madeline Maclin,” I said. “What can I do for you?”

  She looked anxiously at Jerry and Ted.

  “Please come to my office,” I said.

  The woman came into my office and sat down where Jerry had been sitting. “I’ve never hired a detective before. I’m not sure if I need one.”

  “What’s the problem?” I asked.

  She kept the pocketbook in her lap as if using it for a shield. “Well, it’s not exactly a problem now, but it’s going to be. My name is Frannie Thomas, and about six months ago, I let a man named Kirby Willet store some things in my downstairs guestroom. I wasn’t using it, and he needed a place to keep some things. I thought I was doing him a favor.”

  “But he hasn’t come back for his stuff.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Yes. How did you know?”

  “I had a roommate like that once.”

  “See, I didn’t really mind at first, but now my mother’s coming to live with me, and I need that room for her and her things.”

  I had this solved already. Frannie Thomas was too shy to confront this freeloader. “You’d like someone to contact Mister Willet and tell him to come get his property.”

  “That would be great, except I don’t know where he is.”

  “He didn’t leave an address or phone number?”

  “Oh, yes, but the phone’s been disconnected, and there’s no one living at that address anymore.”

  “What kind of stuff are we talking about? Clothes? Books? Anything of value?”

  She clutched her pocketbook tighter. “I don’t know. It’s all in boxes. I haven’t looked in them. I don’t want to go snooping through his things. I just want him to come get all that out of my room.”

  “Okay. Why did you agree to store his things in the first place?”

  “My friend Bernice Coleman told Kirby I had extra space in my house. He seemed like a nice man, just a little down on his luck. I wanted to help him out.”

  “Your friend Bernice doesn’t know where he is?”

  “No one knows where he is, and I haven’t the slightest idea of how to look for him. That’s when I thought of you. I figured if you found Juliet Lovelace’s murderer, you could find Kirby Willet.”

  I was glad I already had a good reputation in town, but Juliet’s case had been overloaded with suspects. This case had the slimmest of clues. Still, it was a case. “I’ll need to
have a look at the boxes. There might be something in one that can help me locate Mister Willet.”

  “Can you come tomorrow afternoon around four? I’ll be over at mother’s till then helping her pack.”

  We agreed on a time and my fee. Frannie Thomas took her pocketbook and left. I went back to Ted’s office. Ted and Jerry were still talking about fish.

  “If you want to go fishing, the best place around here is Carson’s Lake. I’ve pulled bass out of there by the bucket loads.” Ted spread his hands apart. “One this big, I swear.”

  “I have another case,” I said.

  “Great,” Jerry said. “Murder? Kidnapping? Drug busting?”

  “Leftover boxes.”

  “Boxes full of money?”

  “That would be nice. Are you guys setting up a fishing trip?”

  “Next week, Carson’s Lake. Want to go?”

  I tried to remember if I’d ever been fishing. “Sure.” And then I said something that always gets me into trouble. “I don’t think this case is going to take me very long.”

  ***

  Jerry’s negotiating with his pal Buddy to buy Buddy’s Volkswagen Bug, so my blue Mazda’s been our only form of transportation lately. As we got in the car, I gave him a sideways look. “Speaking of money, how’s your cash flow these days?”

  “Except for the ten bucks you owe me, no problem.”

  I thought there was a big problem. Jerry has declined his share of the Fairweather fortune, but somehow always has plenty of money. I know whatever he charges for his séances and Ouija board readings couldn’t be enough to live on.

  “When are you going to tell me about this mysterious bankroll of yours?”

  “No mystery. I’m doing just fine, thanks.”

  He wasn’t going to tell me, and I knew from past experience that nagging wouldn’t help. I changed the subject. “Did you look at the college catalogue?”

  “Still thinking about that.”

  In an attempt to steer Jerry in some direction, I’d suggested he take some classes at Parkland Community College. He’s never done anything with his history degree. I thought he’d make a good teacher. He’s smart and entertaining and likes kids. He’s even mentioned he might like teaching. That was several wild schemes ago, back before he inherited the Eberlin house. I refuse to give up. The fact that he’s kept the house and decided to live in it is a huge step toward settling down.

  Celosia’s such a small town it doesn’t take long before you’re out in the country. A couple of turns, and we were on the road to the Eberlin house. Even though the July morning was hot, I left the windows down so I could smell the fresh air and honeysuckle. A few cows looked up as we passed the fields. Jerry, as was his custom, mooed at them. Kudzu vines twisted around the abandoned tobacco sheds and rail fences. We passed more fields until we came to our own, an expanse of long grass and clover that leads up to a large house surrounded by oak trees.

  “Jerry, you’re right. The house would be perfect for a horror movie.”

  He pretended to be insulted. “You have to admit it looks a lot better than the first time we saw it.”

  “It still has a long way to go.” I saw a flash of gray and white as a mockingbird sailed over the daylilies to perch on the battered mailbox at the end of the driveway. “Too early for the mail?”

  “I’ll check.”

  I stopped, and he got out to see if the mail had come. I gave the house another look. I’m still staying in one of the upstairs bedrooms. At first, living in the same house as Jerry was a throwback to our co-ed college dorm. We ate junk food, we talked about our day, watched TV on his new giant screen television. We still do those things, but now that there’s a chance for a permanent relationship, I find myself thinking of the Eberlin house as home.

  Jerry got back in the car. “Nope, not yet.”

  Not yet.

  I drove up and parked beside the white van under the large trees in the front yard. We got out and walked up the porch steps.

  “Let’s see what Nell’s done so far.” He pushed open the screen door and called up the stairs. “Nell, are you through yet?”

  “Hold on,” came her voice. “I’m coming down.”

  Nell had on her work clothes, grubby white paint-splattered overalls and sneakers. Her dirty blonde hair was stuck in a ponytail and covered with a white baseball cap. She gave Jerry a look from her small blue eyes. “Don’t touch anything till I say so.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And get me a beer.”

  Jerry keeps a supply for her in the fridge. Nell followed us into the kitchen. Jerry got her a beer and one for himself. I chose a Diet Coke.

  Nell popped her beer can open and took a swig. “So when’s this movie crew going to arrive in town?”

  I haven’t been in Celosia a month, but already I’ve found out that Nell hears and knows everything. “Patricia’s going to let us know.”

  Nell nodded. “Wouldn’t mind having a look at Lance Henderson. Been watching him for years.”

  Jerry offered her a doughnut. “You might get the chance to work with him.”

  She gave him another look and then glanced at me. “What’s shorty been up to now?”

  “He thinks the house would make a good movie set.”

  To my surprise, Nell agreed. She took a doughnut from the box. “Hadn’t thought of that, but it sure would. What kind of movie they making?”

  “We don’t know, but it could be the start of something good.”

  “Hmm.” Nell took another drink. “Oh, you had a call from your brother, junior. Wants you to call back. Something about a wedding.”

  Jerry set his beer can on the table, his face suddenly serious. “Okay. Thanks.” He got up and left the kitchen.

  Nell’s eyebrows lifted. “It’s a long story,” I said.

  “Not your wedding, is it?”

  “No.”

  “So tell all.”

  “Tucker’s getting married in a few weeks, and he wants Jerry to come.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “The wedding is going to be at the Fairweather mansion. Jerry hasn’t been back home in over twelve years.”

  “Family troubles?”

  “Not exactly.” I wondered how much of Jerry’s strange history I needed to share with Nell and decided the answer was none.

  She reached for a second doughnut. “So why don’t Tucker get married in a church?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Seems like a fine detective such as yourself would find out.”

  “It’s really none of my business.”

  She chuckled. “Everything about that man is your business, and you know it.” From the first day, Nell had seen right through me. She finished her doughnut and her beer and tossed the can into the recycle bin by the back door. “I’ve got floors to sand.”

  I thought of something I needed to ask her. “Nell, has Jerry paid you for all this work?”

  “Yep. All caught up.”

  “I’m a little concerned where he’s getting his money.”

  “Ask him.”

  “I have.”

  She shrugged. “As long as I get paid, I don’t really care.” She cut her little eyes at me. “You think it’s dirty money?”

  “I don’t know. I keep hoping he’ll tell me.”

  “Probably shaking down Bigfoot for some cash.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Jerry was still on the phone, so I followed Nell upstairs. I admired the paint job she’d done in one of the guestrooms, a very nice light blue. Then I went to my room. The room’s very plain. I have a large bed, a dresser, and an old fashioned chair. The walls are still their original beige. I don’t spend a lot of time in it. I’m hoping to move across the hall into Jerry’s room.

  Outside, a car horn honked. Movie people already? I went to the window to see who had come to visit. A tall rangy man with a hawk-like nose climbed out of a Buick sedan.

  “Damn!”
Rick Rialto, one of Jerry’s former partners in psychic schemes. Of all the people in the world, this was the last person I needed right now. The only word to describe Rick is “shifty.” He is shifty from his wiry black hair to his fake alligator shoes.

  He came up the front porch steps and knocked on the door.

  “Mac, can you get that?” Jerry called.

  Oh, I’ll get that, all right. I came down the stairs and opened the door. Rick grinned that grin that never reaches his shrewd dark eyes.

  “Hello, Mac, old pal.”

  Jerry’s the only one who can call me Mac. I gave Rick my frostiest stare. “Rick. What are you now?”

  “Rick Rialto, Animal Psychic. Where’s J?”

  I continued to block the door. “He’s on the phone.”

  “They told me in town this is his place now.” He looked over my shoulder at the living room, which had been gray and Victorian and now, thanks to Nell, gleamed a modern blue and white. “Nice, very nice.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And you two are what? Married? Living together?”

  “Friends.”

  He smirked. “Still friends after all these years. That’s so sweet.”

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “Nothing. I was in the neighborhood and just stopped by to see my old pal.”

  I didn’t believe him for a minute. “Celosia’s a little off the beaten track for you.”

  “I’ll say. What a hick town. But that’s to my advantage.”

  Jerry came up behind me and I had to stand aside. “Yo, Rick! What brings you to the country?”

  “I kinda wore out my welcome in Charlotte.” The two men shook hands and smacked each other on the back. “You’ve got a great setup here, J. Nifty old house. Must be perfect for séances.”

  “Thanks,” Jerry said. “We’re working on it. Come on in. You want a drink?”

  Rick interpreted my stare and grinned again. “Nah, just stopping by to see what’s up. Anybody around Celosia got a troubled pet? Goldfish a bit peaked? Cat coughing up too many hairballs?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “This animal psychic deal is the best. People will believe anything you tell them about their pets. You’ve got tons of room out here. We could do cows and sheep and everything.”