Elaine Orr - Jolie Gentil 03 - When the Carny Comes to Town (11 page)

She looked back at me, probably regretting her offer to take one of the dog’s leashes.

“Somebody hurt Scoobie on purpose.  I just don’t want it to happen again, and I definitely don’t want that jerk selling drugs to kids.”

“But you said you wouldn’t tell!”

“I promise, I won’t.”  I looked into her eyes, which had lost all pretense of teenage cool.

A voice came from behind us.  “Jolie.  Is that you?”

Megan had a grocery bag in each hand, probably walking home from Mr. Markle’s store.

“I promise,” I said again, quietly.

“Yep.  It’s me.  Alicia helped me organize the dogs.  I didn’t realize the school buses would scare them.”

Megan literally beamed.  “Hi sweetie,” she said.

Alicia’s posture relaxed, and she handed me back Miss Piggy’s leash.  Miss Piggy, who had been panting on the cool brick sidewalk, stood and gave herself a good shake.  I realized she and Mr. Rogers both had their eyes on Megan’s bags.

I pulled their leashes closer to me.  “Not for you, guys.”  They ignored me, still focused on Megan.  She walked into the street to get around us.

“Sorry!  We’re just heading home.  They haven’t had a good walk in days.”

“Of course.”  She frowned.  “Scoobie doing okay?”

“He’s getting there.  It’ll be a long haul, but he’ll probably recover completely.”

We said a couple more of the usual things, and I turned to take the dogs home.  This wasn’t the first time they’d helped me out, though never intentionally.  “You guys get a doggie treat when we get home.”  They ignored me, preferring to pay attention to a nearby fire hydrant.

I VISITED SCOOBIE AGAIN LATE WEDNESDAY afternoon.  Yet again he told me I shouldn’t visit three times every day.  “You have a life.  I know it’s a boring one with me in here, but jeez Jolie, if you don’t have better things to do you should probably collect shells or something.”

I sat my bag on his bed and plopped myself down next to it.  Scoobie was in one of those hospital recliners your skin sticks to.  Lester Argrow, of all people, had bought him an MP3 player, and Scoobie was trying to figure out how to adjust the sound. 

“I really appreciate this, you know, but what makes him think I’d have money to buy the CDs to load onto here?” he asked.

I frowned.  “I think I heard you can put audio books on it.  Maybe ask Daphne.” 

“That would be great.  Especially if I can use the library’s talking books.”  He grinned at me.  “Can’t you see me taking a walk on the beach with ear buds in and getting run over by the lifeguard’s cart?”

“Can you lend it to George?” I asked.

Scoobie shook his head.  “I don’t like what he writes sometimes, either, but you should give it a rest with him.”

“Yeah, I guess.”  I jumped in before Scoobie could continue and told him about my conversation with Alicia.  “And I meant it when I said I wouldn’t tell, but I need to find a way to let Morehouse or Dana know so they can tell cops in some of the other towns.”

Scoobie thought for a moment.  “Just tell him, without using Alicia’s name.”

“And if he insists?”

“Tell him you’ve had a head injury and your brain is foggy.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EXCEPT FOR THE TIME WITH ALICIA, I was either at the Cozy Corner or at the hospital.  “How’s the head?” I asked him on Thursday in the late afternoon. 

“A lot better.  I’ve been cutting back on the pain meds.  Even Nurse Ratched says I shouldn’t go so low, but I don’t need narcotics in my life again.” 

Scoobie had adopted my reference to the nurse who was most strict, but there were times when I was pretty sure he liked her a lot.  “I’m going to go over to the food pantry, probably tomorrow,” I told him.  “And Harry says he has a couple houses for me to appraise in the popsicle district.”

“I keep telling you not to be here so much.”  Scoobie was supervising my efforts to build a tower of cans of the meal supplements that masquerade as milkshakes.  He refused to drink them, and was tired of them cluttering the table by his bed.  We had opted for the window sill.

“Now that you’re feeling better, I feel better.”  I stole a glance at him.  He was rooting in a small goody bag Ramona had dropped off yesterday evening, though he had to hold it up to his face as he couldn’t bend his neck to look at it.  Ramona had brought him a couple candy bars, a steno pad and a few pens, along with a card from Roland that said Scoobie could have free steno pads for a year. 

I was starting to feel guilty about not telling Aunt Madge or Scoobie that I’d seen Penny at the Ocean Alley Budget Inn a couple days ago.  Penny had not been back to the Cozy Corner after that, so Aunt Madge had packed up her things and cleaned the room.  Penny’s suitcase and smaller bag were now under Aunt Madge’s own bed.

It was almost four o’clock when Sgt. Morehouse came in.  Scoobie had once said Morehouse was “not high on his Christmas list,” and I assumed this was the result of Scoobie’s marijuana arrests long ago.  Now, it seemed they had established some sort of truce.  When Scoobie gestured to the visitor’s chair Morehouse sat down. 

“Scoobie, I gotta tell you something hard to hear, and I wish I could wait a couple weeks, but I can’t.”  Morehouse looked at his hands as Scoobie glanced at me and back to him.  Then Morehouse looked directly at Scoobie.  “I’m sorry to say we found your mother’s body early this morning.  “I’m not sure yet how she…”

“You can go now,” Scoobie said.  His voice was stronger than it had been since before he got hurt, and pretty harsh.

Morehouse stood slowly.  “I hear you.”  He took a card from his pocket and set it on the bedside table.  “My cell and office numbers are on there.  You call anytime you want to.”  He gave me a small nod as he left.

Scoobie looked out the window.  No tears, just a stony expression.

“Would you like me to go, too?” I asked.

“I guess I need some time to myself.”

“I’ll come back about seven unless you call and say not to.”

He glanced at me briefly and I blew him a kiss.

I STOPPED AT THE PURPLE COW, which was getting ready to close.  I was pretty sure it was the first time I’d given Ramona news she hadn’t heard elsewhere.  Her reaction surprised me.

“That horrible woman.  She screws up Scoobie’s life for years, then when he’s sick she ignores him, and then she gets herself killed.”  She slammed the cash register drawer shut and Roland looked over at us.

I left Ramona for a minute and told him what Morehouse had said.  When he pestered me for details I just said Scoobie hadn’t asked for any so I hadn’t either.  I didn’t mention that Scoobie had pretty much thrown Sgt. Morehouse out of his hospital room.

“I won’t stick around long,” I told him.

“That’s okay today.  You stay out of the way when we have customers,” Roland said.  He glanced back at Ramona who was furiously polishing the glass top of the display case by the cash register, and shrugged.

I walked back to Ramona, and on the way noticed her white board was just inside the front door rather than on the sidewalk, and it was blank.  “Where’s your message?”

She stopped spraying glass cleaner and looked up.  “I just can’t think of anything, I’m too upset.  And I’m mad at George Winters about it.  He’s in here every day and bugs me about it.”

“I’m always mad at George.”  I thought this might get a smile, but it didn’t.  “You, uh, want me to go, too?”

“What do you mean, too?” she asked.

“I asked Scoobie if he wanted me to leave his room and he said he’d like to be alone.”

“If it was two years ago I’d worry about that, but I know he can deal with it.  Sort of, anyway.”  She stowed the cleaner in a bottom cupboard.

I walked back to my car, repeating the mental debate about whether to tell Sgt. Morehouse I’d seen Penny at the Ocean Alley Budget Inn.  I knew I had to, and the longer I put it off the madder he would be.  My cell phone rang and I fished it from a pocket.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I recognized the bellow at Morehouse’s and didn’t need to ask why he was mad.  “I’m on my way to the station now.  Honest.”

“You damn well better be.”  He said this at almost bellow level, so I knew he was really mad.

FOR THE FIRST TIME I didn’t have to wait in the small lobby for Morehouse, he was at the counter talking to the officer on duty.  “Back here,” he said, and I followed him toward his tiny office.  We continued past it to a conference room a couple doors down.

I knew I was in trouble when I saw Lt. Tortino.  It wasn’t just his higher rank.  He’d hauled me to Aunt Madge when he found me smoking on the boardwalk in eleventh grade.  He may not have had a “right” to do that, but I didn’t know it.  I felt a little like my fifteen-year old self as I sat across from him.  Morehouse shut the door.

“Why were you looking for Penny on Tuesday?” Lt. Tortino asked.

“I wasn’t.”

“Jolie…” Morehouse began.

“I wanted to see if Turk or whatever his name is was staying there over the weekend.  And maybe whether anybody saw him with Scoobie.  Penny just walked in.”

Neither of them said anything for a few seconds, then Morehouse did.  “Let me get this straight.  You called me Sunday night because you were terrified of him at the hospital, and Tuesday morning you go looking for him?”

“No.  I knew he was gone.”  I stared directly at Lt. Tortino, who shook his head.

“See if anything she knows will help,” Tortino said, standing and nodding at Morehouse.

I don’t like to be talked about as if I’m not in the room, but this didn’t seem the time to mention that.  Morehouse sat so he was across the table from me and I thought of TV shows where the detectives question suspects.

“What did you and Penny talk about?” he asked.

“We didn’t talk…”

“Desk clerk said you did,” he said, evenly.

“She walked in, I told her we missed her the night before — which was a lie, of course — and she asked the guy for another room key.”

“And?”  Morehouse asked.

I stared at him for a second.  “She told him I was friendly with cops.  Which made the desk clerk guy really happy, so I left.”

“And what did Penny do then?”

“Nothing.  She just walked out the door into the hall.  I assume she was going to her room.”

“So, nothing else?”

I thought for a minute.  “She was wearing a beautiful pants suit.”

He looked up, probably assuming I was being facetious, and his expression changed when he could tell I wasn’t.  “Nice clothes?  Penny?”

“Yep, a light blue outfit and an expensive purse.  What was she wearing when you found her?”

It almost worked.  “Her usual slovenly…I’m asking you.”  He paused.  “Sounds like the same purse, though.”

“Hmm.  So she was dressed up Tuesday and back in her usual clothes by today?”  I wondered what on earth she was doing that required her to dress up.

“Can you tell me anything else, Jolie?” he asked, clicking his pen.

When I said no he stood and walked out without saying anything.

I LEFT AND DEBATED calling Winters, remembering Dana Johnson said he knew how to hold his tongue.  I had no idea what his phone number was, since I’d spent a lot of time avoiding him, so I had to wait until I got back to the Cozy Corner. 

George was sitting on Aunt Madge’s sofa, looking very out of place in his Hawaiian shirt and jeans.  Aunt Madge had probably told him to wait while she served afternoon bread to her one B&B guest.

“I was going to call you just now,” I said, sitting across from him.

He gave me a “yeah, right,” look.

“Honest.  You know, then?  About this mom?”

“Just heard.  You know anything?”  He flipped open his notebook.

“Scoobie didn’t want to hear, so Morehouse left almost as soon as he got there.  All he really said was that they didn’t yet know how she died.”

“Rats, that’s probably true, then.”  My uncertainty must have showed, because he added, “That’s what he told me.  He wouldn’t have told Scoobie that if he did know.  Scoobie?” he asked.

I shrugged.  “I asked if I should go and all he said was he wanted to be alone, so I left.  I’m not sure if he was sad or mad or what.”

He stood to go.  “All I know is they found her north of town.  Morehouse said her car was full of beer bottles and a bunch of other stuff and he thought she was leaving.  He said something about maybe New York, but I figured it was a guess.”

“I wonder why she didn’t take her suitcase,” I said, more to myself than him.

“What do you mean?  How do you know that?” he asked.

“Because she stayed here the night she got here.  Aunt Madge invited her.”

“You said you’d share info,” he said, his voice rising.

“Shh.  The guest.”  I nodded my head toward the door to the breakfast room.  “I honestly didn’t think it was important until now.  Aunt Madge wanted to keep track of her, so she invited Penny to stay here.  But after she went to the hospital Monday morning Penny only came back for a few minutes.  She asked if she could leave her stuff here for a few days, or something like that.”