IN FOR A PENNY (The Granny Series) (20 page)

Abby’s eyebrow shot up. “How much training does a funeral guy need? Just hang ’em and drain ’em.”

That made being eaten by a shark a little more appealing as a way to go. Teague shook his head and finished off his beer. “You may not feel that way when it’s you.”

“Don’t you
worry.” She toasted him with her mug. “When I go outta this world, I’ll be kickin’ up my heels and having a great time.”

The thought of this world without Abby Ruth Cady punched a big old
hole dead center of Teague’s chest.

“So about this Talley guy…” she said.
“What’s he like?”

“Why all the interest in a man you don’t know?” And just what did she know that he didn’t? First, Maggie was all concerned about Nash and then changed her mind. But it was obvious Maggie was still on the guy’s trail. Question was why?

“I heard he’s got some OCD thing.”

So the guy’s neat, but then again, I think dust is a designer statement.
What the hell do I know?
“I never paid it all that much attention. What’s it matter?”

“Nothing.
Just trying to get to know the folks in town like you recommended. Maybe I could do a story on him.”

What did she care about a story when she wasn’t even interested in talking with the
Dispatch?
“Nosiness and gossip are like Olympic sports in Summer Shoals,” he told her. “Just because people are talking doesn’t mean there’s anything to it. I need you to concentrate on what’s happening out at Summer Haven, you understand?”

Abby Ruth plastered a toothy grin on her face.
“I understand, Tadpole.” She laid her hand dramatically across her chest, raising the hair on the back of his neck. “Sugar, you know I’d never stir up trouble.”

The alarm going off in his head now wasn’t just the backup alarm. Abby Ruth Cady had a spoon big enough to stir a Guinness World Records-sized pot of trouble. And he’d just stuck her right into the middle of his kitchen.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Maggie eyed the wine bottle Sera placed on the table with caution.
She’s crazy if she thinks I’m going there again. Only my special tea from now on. I know how much of that I can hold.

“You better tell us the details of your day before you dive into that,” Maggie warned Sera. “We need to keep our wits about us.”

“I just want to celebrate a little. Delivering meals was so much fun,” Sera said. “Everyone welcomed me right into their homes. No questions asked, and they were so appreciative for the meals. The Meals on Wheels people weren’t very forthcoming with information but according to the neighbors I met today, Nash used to deliver meals once a week on the second, third and fourth Wednesdays, but he didn’t deliver at all during the month of July.” 

Abby Ruth looked over her shoulder as she rolled out butcher paper against the wall. “So he’s missed three Wednesdays?”

“Yep.” Sera walked over and put her hands on the other end of the paper to hold it in place while Maggie duct taped it to the wall.

Maggie tugged another length of purple duct tape from her hip.
Schwick.
“That’ll hold it.”

Sera stepped back from the paper and turned to Maggie. “I don’t know how he juggles it with a job though. It took me all day long. Those old people must not get many visitors because they were more than happy to tell me story after story.”

“They aren’t any older than us,” Maggie said. She pulled a bag of scratcher tickets from where she’d stowed it behind the buffet. She needed something to do with her hands during this discussion, and there were only a few scratchers left.

“Well, some of them are. That food they serve could sure be a little more exciting too. Maybe I can help them create a more balanced and tasty variety.”

Lordy, don’t let her get a hold of their menu. That would never fare well.

Abby Ruth held a marker in her hand.
“Time to get all our facts straight.”

“Is that a Sharpie?” Maggie asked.

“Last I checked.”

“You can’t use that. You’ll ruin the wallpaper.” Maggie ducked into the kitchen and returned with a plastic toolbox full of mismatched crayons.

“This is why I’d rather live in a horse trailer.” Abby Ruth dipped her hand inside the tool box and scooped out a handful. “Okay, let’s outline what we know.”

Lord, the bits and pieces had been swirling around in Maggie’s head for days. It would be a relief to get everything out in the open.

Abby Ruth drew a timeline and they each started filling in whatever random details they could remember. After about ten minutes of scribbling and memory bursts, the wall of white paper now looked like it had been tagged by a team of adolescents with a penchant for wall art.

Sera sipped her wine and said, “Nash helped Lillian steal $90,000 in Social Security.”

Maggie pushed her glass away without a taste and winced. It just sounded so bad when stated aloud. “No, he
helped
Lillian borrow $12,000 from the government, which she will pay back in restitution.”

“Okay, but she got busted for the whole 90k.” Abby Ruth scribbled the figures on the paper.

It looked even worse written on the wall in big block print.

“Nash disappeared around July 5,” Maggie added. “And we have pictures from his secret ledger if we could only figure out what those coded entries mean.”

“Yeah,” Abby Ruth said, “that ledger is the key.”

Maggie’s stomach dropped as if it
had been shoved into an elevator shaft. Oh God, the key to Nash’s house. The lottery ticket she was holding fluttered to the ground and she dropped her head back, clunking it against the dining room chair.

“What’s wrong?” Sera asked.

Maggie shook her head. And here she’d thought she was doing so well, becoming so independent, so strong on her own. What a load of hogwash.

“Just spit it out.” Abby Ruth tapped her boot against the floor. “Don’t make us wait.”

“I’m an idiot,” Maggie finally croaked.

“No, you’re not!” Oh, where had Sera been all Maggie’s life when she’d needed someone on her side? And now she didn’t deserve her.

“I left the key sitting in Nash’s kitchen.”

“You didn’t.” Abby Ruth knocked the heel of her hand against her forehead.

Sera slid down in her chair. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.”

Abby Ruth sucked in a few breaths and finally looked up. “Okay, it’s not ideal, but we’ll figure out a way around it. First, let’s finish talking about what we do have and then we’ll handle the key issue. Sera, what about the Meals on Wheels folks? What did you get from them?”

“They’re all just so sweet,” Sera said, “and lonely.
Which is not sweet.”

“I’m sure they are, but you were supposed to gather information. Did you get anything?”

“Several of them mentioned they’d received extra Social Security checks this month.”

Abby Ruth tapped her chin and then speared Maggie with a sharp look. “Let’s flip through those ledger pictures again.”

Maggie scrambled for her phone and fumbled to pull up the little photos. “It’s still the same jumble of numbers and letters.” She pinched and spread her fingers to enlarge the image. “Here’s an example. This entry has a description of DEM04MOW91HAD.”

Abby Ruth stared at the screen and then sounded out the jumbled characters.
“Demmowhad? That means absolutely nothing.”

“Here’s another one dated in April,” Maggie said. “FWH83TFH91LSF.”

Sera tapped the phone screen. “They all have that 91 in them.”

“Good catch,” Abby Ruth said.

Sera drifted away in the dreamy-eyed state of hers, swayed to the right and left and then jerked upright in her chair. “Maggie, what’s Hollis Dooley’s middle name?”

“I have no idea.”

“Arnold? Augustine? Albert?”

Maggie just shook her head.

Sera grabbed the phone and paced around the dining room table mumbling to herself. “It could be…no…but what about…maybe if…”

Abby Ruth started to speak, but Maggie waved her off. If they interrupted Sera, it might ruin everything. Maybe she was on to something.

Finally, Sera stopped and gripped a chair back. “What about Harlan? What was his middle name?”

“Wayne.” Maggie crossed her fingers.
Please let that be the right answer.

Sera blew out a relieved sigh, and snapped her fingers. “I think I’ve got it.”

“Well, bust out with it, dammit.” Abby Ruth’s volume went up a decibel.

Sera grabbed the crayon from Abby Ruth’s hand, strode to the butcher paper on the wall and wrote
FWH —> HWF.

“Oh my God!
Harlan Wayne Fairview.” Maggie jumped up and took the crayon from Sera. “And
LSF
is really
LSF
. Lillian Summer Fairview.”

“And the numbers and other letters?”
Abby Ruth asked.

“What if it’s not 91 but 19?” Sera asked.

Maggie clutched Sera’s hands and danced her around in a tight circle. “You’re a genius. The 91 is 19 and the 83 is 38. I’d bet you anything Harlan was born in 1938.”

Sera snatched up Maggie’s phone and scrolled back. “Those middle letters are…that rotten
sonofa…”

“Bitch?”
Abby Ruth offered.

“Exactly.”
Sera looked up. “The TFH is Talley Funeral Home and the MOW is Meals on Wheels.”

Understanding crashed through Maggie.
Sonofabitch
was too good for the likes of Nash Talley.
“He’s stealing from people who can barely afford to feed themselves and from people who just want to bury their loved ones. We need to take this—” she stabbed a finger toward the phone, “—to Teague immediately.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa there, sugar britches. Wait just a minute now.” Abby Ruth pulled the phone out of Maggie’s reach. “By the looks of those entries, Talley has a shit-load of money stashed somewhere. What do you think happens to all that cash if the law gets involved?”

“Maybe Lillian would get out of prison!” Maggie’s insides boogied at the thought.

But Abby Ruth was shaking her head.
“Highly doubtful. But if
we
find Talley, we find his money. And in case you haven’t noticed it, Summer Haven is a money pit. Doesn’t it make sense to have him pay to take care of this place Lillian loves so much?”

Why didn’t I think of that?
“But no one knows where Nash is,” Maggie said. “And even after being inside his house, we didn’t have a clue.”

Abby Ruth jotted the findings on the paper,
then plopped down in her chair. “Then we’ll just have to try again, and while we’re at it, we’ll pick up that ledger as insurance.” She crossed her leg and bobbed that fancy boot in the air.

“I just told you I screwed up and left the key,” Maggie said. “I may not know much about crime, but even I know what we’re thinking about is illegal.”

“But if that ledger contains illegal stuff, what’s the harm in stealing it? Who gets hurt? No one except the bad guy.” Abby Ruth sat back and did that eyebrow thing. “Did you see just how many entries that book had? We can shake down that schmuck, grab a little cash for Lillian’s house and give back to those he ripped off.”

This wasn’t just about Lil anymore.

Abby Ruth leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. “All we have to do is find Talley. We can do that. It’s three against one, and my money is on us.”

Maggie’s heart warmed with pride. They were about to get justice for every unsuspecting senior citizen Nash Talley had ever taken advantage of.

Lillian strolled into the dining hall, finally feeling more confident about her place in the prison food chain. Big Martha had agreed to help her. Navigating this new world wasn’t so hard.

“Lil!” Dixie frantically motioned Lil to her table.

“I’ll just get my lunch and—”

“No, get over here. Now!”

Lil
was taken aback. Dixie had never spoken to her that way. Reluctantly, because today was hamburger day and they were actually quite decent, Lil left the lunch line.

Dixie pulled her down to the bench. “You need to get back to the pod.”

“But the hamburger—”

“I heard some talk that Big Martha’s girls were seen around our place earlier.”

“So?”

“You need to go check your bed and your footlocker.”

“Whatever for?”

“I don’t trust that Martha any farther than I can toss her,” Dixie said, taking a big bite of her burger and swallowing. “If they were hanging around our place, then they were up to no good.”

Lil’s stomach shrank. Not enough room in there for lunch now. “Fine. I’ll go check it out.”

She hustled out of the dining hall and back to the dormitory. Looking to her left and right, she checked for witnesses before she stepped into her and Dixie’s sleeping area. First, she rifled
though her footlocker, but all it contained were her extra clothes and a picture of Maggie and her back in their William & Mary days. But when she patted down her bed, she felt a suspicious lump at the far corner of her pillow case.

Lillian jammed her arm inside and pulled out a cheap black phone. Oh, Lord
have mercy. If the guards caught her with this, she’d probably not only lose her teaching job but lose favor with the warden as well. Not something she could afford.

That damned Martha. This had her touch all over it. She’d just acted like she was willing to help Lillian, but it was obvious the woman still had it out for her.

Lillian shoved the phone into the front of her bra, but it poked out, making her look like one of those multi-breasted Picasso paintings. Where, where to hide this thing?

Shoot, there was only one other place. She shoved it down the back of her underwear.
Humiliating to have to hide something there and not too comfortable either. Sweat pooled at the base of her spine and began trickling down.

Hope the dad-burned thing doesn’t electrocute me.

She had to find Big Martha and not only return her phone, but to give her a piece of her mind at the same time.

So as not to attract attention, Lillian strolled out of the dormitory and slowly made her way across the courtyard to the cottages. And with every step, that damned cell phone
ooched lower. She tried to hitch up her pants, but that only made the thing stick to one butt cheek. Finally, she made it to the cottage and knocked on Martha’s door.

“Enter,” a voice called from inside.

Lillian walked in to find Martha cramming a book under her own pillow. What in the world? She’d caught sight of one word:
Post.
Was Martha actually reading Emily Post?