IN FOR A PENNY (The Granny Series) (17 page)

Chapter Eighteen

A few days with Abby Ruth Cady underfoot was enough for Maggie to know that it wasn’t going to be easy to shake her long enough to get out to visit Lillian as planned. If she and Sera tried to sneak off, that woman would be hot on their heels.

Rocking on the porch enjoying a cool breeze, Maggie uncovered another winning scratcher ticket. Fifty bucks was fifty bucks and that was good enough to call it a day even though most of the tickets in these bags would expire in a couple of weeks. She’d work extra hard tomorrow. Besides, it was Sera’s night to cook and it was just about dinnertime.

Maggie trudged upstairs. She knocked on the door to the Sweet Vidalia bedroom and peeked around to find Abby Ruth shoving something between the mattress and the box spring. She let the yellow coverlet fall and plastered on a smile as fake as Hollis Dooley’s teeth.

It was bad enough they’d have to delay their planned weekend visit with Lillian because Teague dropped this woman off at Summer Haven like she was a stray pup. But now it looked like Abby Ruth was harboring a secret on top of it all.

Granted, Sera had turned out to be a blessing. But those Texans, with their penchant for double names, should’ve dubbed this woman Trouble Maker.

Something about her sharp fox face, hip-shot stance and miss-nothing eyes made Maggie’s skin tight. But as long as Abby Ruth was staying at Summer Haven, she would be hospitable. Lillian would expect nothing less. “Sera cooked supper tonight. We’ve been taking turns since Lillian…left on her…trip.”

Abby Ruth hustled into the hallway and shut the bedroom door firmly behind her. “Good. I’m starving.”

“I have to warn you, Sera’s not much on meat.” Maggie craned her neck to look up at the other woman. Abby Ruth had at least half a foot on her. What was it with all these darned skinny gals around here? Didn’t they know a woman was supposed to get pleasantly plump as she aged?

As she followed Abby Ruth down the stairs, nothing on the woman’s backside jiggled.
Nothing.
Note to self: don’t let anyone walk behind me and see my jiggling parts.

Rather than eat in the formal dining room with its flocked wallpaper and twelve-person fruitwood table, they gathered around the small farmhouse table in the kitchen.

Sera passed around a platter of cooked onions, bell peppers and—Maggie peered closer—long brown strips that looked like french fries.

“What in the name of Mary, Joseph and the three wise men is that?” Abby Ruth poked at
the food with her fork.

“Tofu fajitas.”
Sera smiled and offered Maggie purple-tinged tortillas.

“They say Jesus forgives anything—” Abby Ruth scooped veggies into a tortilla, but passed over the tofu, “—but I’m not so sure about that.”

“So, Abby Ruth…” Maggie nibbled at her fajita wrap. “Tell us a little about yourself.”

“I’m on sabbatical, just traveling around the U.S.”

“What fun!” Sera said. “I’m doing the same thing.”

Abby Ruth grinned. “Yeah, it’s getting more and more exciting by the minute.”

“How do you know our Teague?” Maggie asked.

That smile dimmed a tad at the word
our.

“His family owned a house down the street from us in Houston. He and my daughter, Jenny, grew up together.” Abby Ruth made a show of taking a big bite of her food.

Hmm.
History there she didn’t want to share.

“So your friend Lillian’s on a trip. I’ve traveled a bit myself. Maybe she’s someplace I’ve visited.”

I sincerely doubt it.
“Oh, it’s a real hush-hush retreat place on the outskirts of…” Maggie’s mind darted, “…the city.”

“Which city?”

“You know, she didn’t even tell me.” Like she was going to blab Lil’s secret to some stranger. Some
skinny
stranger at that. Not happening.

“More wine?” Sera poured all around without waiting for an answer.

“The house and property are beautiful—” Abby Ruth gestured with her wineglass, “—but I noticed the whole place could use a little work.”

If it got any worse, Maggie would have to take off her shoes and use her toes to plug the holes in the dam, but at least she’d laid tile in the bathroom. It would take another few days for the grout to cure and the sealer to dry. But after that, she could place the toilet and they’d be ready to roll on offering tours. “It’s kind of like a child. You can’t turn your back on it for a minute or you’ll find it’s stuck a raisin up its nose while you weren’t watching.”

Abby Ruth’s laugh was low and surprisingly pleasant. Otherwise, she was just so
so.
So tall, so thin, so confident.

Maggie splashed more wine in her glass and drank. An hour and a half later, they were still drinking and Abby Ruth’s stories were becoming more and more outrageous.
But darned if they weren’t funny.

“So you were telling me why Lillian doesn’t just hire a bunch of folks to come in and fix this place up,” Abby Ruth said. “It could really be a showplace.”

“There’s no money for all that.” Maggie hiccupped. “Summer Haven used to be a real beauty though. When we’d come down here on summer break from college, it was like becoming a princess for two weeks.”

“Teague told me the family was some big deal around here, so what happened to the money?”

“Lil’s late husband blew most of it.” Maggie clapped her hand over her mouth and squinted at the wine bottle before her. How many glasses had she put away? She’d lost count after three, but two empty bottles sat on the table and the third was only half full.

Abby Ruth leaned back and kicked her boots out in front of her. “Oh, now that sounds like a story.”

“It’s not mine to tell.” Maggie pressed her lips together.

“Well, the money problem is easy enough to solve, you know.”

Maggie sat up so fast she bumped her glass with her right breast and it crashed to the table and bled red wine all over Lil’s white lace tablecloth. She scrambled to pick it up and save the last few sips. “How?”

“Have you paid any attention to that thing parked out in the garage?”

“How do you know what’s in the garage?” Maggie demanded.

“I took myself on a little tour while you were down for your senior citizen’s nap.”

“I didn’t…I don’t…” Darn it all. The one time she’d taken an afternoon siesta and Abby Ruth had to catch her at it. “Don’t call me a senior citizen.”

“What’s that AARP card in your wallet say?”

“How do you know I carry—” Maggie caught Abby Ruth’s sly look. “Fine, but I don’t
feel
like a senior citizen. And stop trying to distract me. Are you talking about Lil’s daddy’s car?”

“Sugar, that’s not just any car,” Abby Ruth said. “That there is a Tucker 48. Only fifty-one of those suckers
were ever made. And a convertible?” Abby Ruth made a sucking noise with her teeth. “There’s no way that came off the line. Somebody put that together after they stopped regular production. I bet you’ve got at least a million bucks sitting on top of those four whitewall tires out there.”

Maggie nearly shot wine out her noise.
“A million?” She wiped the wine she’d just dribbled down her shirt. “You’re crazy.”

Abby Ruth’s right eyebrow cocked in a sharp arch. “I won’t deny I might be crazy, but I will tell you this right here and right now. There are three things Abby Ruth Cady never lies about.
Sports, whiskey and cars.”

“What about men?” Sera chimed in.

Abby Ruth raised her glass and toasted Sera. “I put them under the sports heading.”

“Oh. I see,” Sera said, chugging the rest of her wine.

Maggie deflated against her chair back. “Well, it doesn’t matter what that car is worth. It’s staying right where it is. Lil made a deathbed promise to her daddy that she wouldn’t sell it.” A million dollars? There was no way Lil knew that car was worth more than a few grand.

“Now
that’s
crazy,” Abby Ruth said. “I’m assuming her dad’s gone to that great scrap yard in the sky, so I can’t imagine he gives a crap anymore. And if he did, would he want their family home to just crumble and fall apart?”

“It’s sad when people get old,” Sera said. “Like your boyfriend, Maggie.”

Abby Ruth looked interested. “Your boyfriend?”

“Shut up, Sera.” Maggie didn’t mean to snap, but the wine was doing a number on them all.

“He gave her a necklace. Rubies and gold.” A tear slid down Sera’s cheek. “It was really quite romantic.”

“That’s quite a boyfriend if he’s giving you rubies, Maggie.” Abby Ruth lifted her glass. “Way to go, girl.”

Maggie looked at the ceiling. “He is not my boyfriend. The old man has lost his memories.”

“And the rubies were made of macaroni,” Sera admitted.

Maggie told Abby Ruth, “He’s confused. He thought I was his wife and it was our anniversary. He’d made a necklace. Yes, it was made out of macaroni, but he didn’t know that either.”

Sera’s face went stoic. “I’m sorry. You should’ve been there, Abby Ruth. It really was the sweetest moment. Warner Talley’s heart was on fire when he laid eyes on you, Maggie.”

“The old timers, that’s heartbreaking. Lots of sad stuff happens when you get our age,” Abby Ruth said, sounding gentle for the first time. “Did you know him well?”

Maggie shook her head. “No. I’d actually never met him before.”

“Now wait a minute. So you just go visit people down at the old folks home just to be nice? That’s kind-hearted of you.”

Abby Ruth looked so impressed that Maggie wasn’t about to tell her that they’d been up to no good.

“We weren’t really there out of the goodness of our hearts exactly,” Sera said. “We needed information about his son, Nash. Warner was so smitten with Maggie that not only did he give her the macaroni necklace but he gave us the key to Nash’s house.”

“Stop it, Sera,” Maggie scolded. “That sounds way worse than it is.”

“Oh, you two don’t need to put a filter on for me,” Abby Ruth said. “Trust me, I like a good time as much as the next gal.”

“I don’t how fun it all is,” Sera said. “Some of the places we’ve been going are right skeevy.” Her words
were muted because she’d tipped her glass up to her mouth. “You wouldn’t believe what all’s going on.”

“There’s more?” Abby Ruth perked up as if she’d been drinking mineral water all night and looked back and forth between Sera and Maggie. “You two are hiding something bigger than a limited-edition car out here. What is it?”

“Lillian’s in the slammer,” Sera blurted out.

Maggie sucked in an audible gasp and glared at her.

Sera froze.

“The what?”
Abby Ruth’s eyes darted like a slot machine.

“Sera, maybe you should call it a night,” Maggie said, jumping to her feet to clear the table. She turned to Abby Ruth “She’s hammered, doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

Sera rested her forehead in her palm. “Did I say that out loud?”

Sera, what are you doing? You can put on an Oscar-winning performance when it doesn’t matter for a guy who can’t remember his own name, but you can’t keep a secret?
After guilting Maggie into keeping all this from Teague, she just spilled everything to a woman they didn’t know. And Maggie didn’t trust the Texan further than she could throw her. Doubtful she could even pick Abby Ruth up, much less toss her.

“She said the slammer. Come on, Sera, spill it. What’s really going on around here?” Abby Ruth was practically rubbing her hands together. “If Lillian were in the slammer, wouldn’t Teague know? He
is
the sheriff.”

“No.
The real slammer. Prison of the federal variety,” Sera admitted. “You know, khakis and shower shoes prison.”

“Sera!”
Maggie felt the room spin. What if Teague had sent Abby Ruth to spy on them?

Okay, that was just the wine-crazies talking.

Still, Maggie asked Abby Ruth, “What did you say you did for a living?”

The woman’s smile was wide and toothy.
Big-bad-wolfy. “I’m an investigative journalist.”

What was left of Maggie’s liver after tonight’s wine overdose shriveled and turned black.

We’ve just led a wolf right into our little flock of sheep.

Chapter Nineteen

The next morning, Maggie’s head felt like someone had poked a thousand upholstery tacks into her skull while she slept. Red wine was straight from the devil. And once Sera had started spilling Lil’s secrets to Abby Ruth, Maggie hadn’t been able to shut her up.

She’d felt so bad she couldn’t even bring herself to sleep in Lil’s bed, so she’d slept upstairs. She stumbled downstairs praying the ibuprofen bottle in the cabinet by the sink was at least half full.

“Morning, glory.”
Abby Ruth sipped coffee from a huge mug at the kitchen table.

The woman looked like a fresh spring day, short hair perfectly tousled, crisp white shirt, jeans and boots.

“Why aren’t you hungover?” Maggie’s whisper felt like a shout reverberating in her head.

“Because, sugar, I can hold my liquor.” Abby Ruth pointed to the countertop. “Help yourself to the coffee.”

Sure made herself at home, didn’t she?

Maggie grumbled under her breath all the way to the painkillers and then the coffeepot. She poured herself a cup, inhaled and sipped. If that red wine had been brew from hell, this coffee was a special delivery from heaven. “You made this?”

Abby Ruth grinned. “Worked in a newsroom with a bunch of men. It was do or die on the stuff they made. But you better bet they poured their own damn coffee.”

She bet they had.
Probably brought Abby Ruth her cup on a little golden platter too.

Maggie Rawls, when did you turn into a shrew? You need to stop it right this minute.

“So,” Abby Ruth said, “what’s the scoop on Nash Talley’s house?”

Maggie coughed, and scalding liquid raced up her nasal passages and dripped from her nose. “Excuse me?”

“Sera mentioned last night that you have a key. You must have wanted that for some reason. Do you think he’s up to no good or was that a cougar move?” Abby Ruth’s eyebrow shot up. “You’re not leading on both daddy and son, are you? Why, you—”

“No. Lord, no. I am not leading anyone on.
Either one. And that key was a mistake. I decided we shouldn’t use it.” Maggie eased her behind around the table to sit, sending the chair screeching across the wood floor. Her brain did a jitterbug against her skull. “That would be breaking and entering.”

“It’s not breaking and entering if you have a key.”

“Regardless, I should talk with Lillian about this. It’s her problem, after all.” Lil had made it clear Summer Haven should be Maggie’s focus and she’d have a conniption fit if she knew Maggie had fronted the money for the bathroom. But then again, if Nash had stolen some cash away from Harlan’s Social Security above and beyond what Lillian knew about, it was high time he forked it over. Between that and tour income, Maggie could pay herself back and Lil would be none the wiser.

Maggie dropped her head into her hands and closed her eyes. Just thinking about the problems surrounding her made her head throb harder.

Abby Ruth set her coffee cup on the table and glared at her. “That’s just silly. If this man duped your friend and she’s taking the fall, you need to do something about it. This isn’t the kind of thing you wait for permission to do. You just do it and ask for forgiveness later.”

Maggie’s back went as stiff and straight as rebar. “Why are
you
so fired up about finding Nash Talley? You don’t know Lillian. You don’t have the whole story.
I
don’t even have the whole story. For all you know, we could be lying or just plain nuts.”

“True.” One of Abby Ruth’s shoulders lifted. “But I figure it’s the most interesting thing happening in this small town.”

“We’re not here to be your source of entertainment. I’ll talk with Lillian about all this the next time I visit. Until then, we drop it.”

“Fine, you skedaddle off to ask your precious Lillian for permission, and I’ll have lunch with Teague.” Her words were even, but Maggie heard the threat behind them.

Who did she think she was, coming in here and sticking her nose into Lil’s business, giving orders like she expected to be obeyed and issuing threats to keep Maggie in line?

Maggie tried to stare Abby Ruth down, but this woman was a master at eye contact. “You wouldn’t.”

“I don’t really want to.” Abby Ruth tipped her head back to drain her mug and then sauntered over to the sink to wash it out. “I’d rather investigate this situation. Help you get to the bottom of it.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“In Texas, we like to call it gentle persuasion.”

“Y’all are truly a breed apart.”

Abby Ruth just smiled an I’ve-gotcha smile.

“We’ll need an alibi,” Maggie said.

“Of course.”

If she was going to give in, she’d do it in a take-charge way. “The Cocklebur Cloggers are coming out to practice in the gazebo later today. You could park one of the cars down the road beforehand so we’d have transportation. Then we could make an appearance and the
cloggers would vouch for us if anything went downhill.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Abby Ruth Cady, you may be getting your way today.” Maggie tried to slap on a mean face as she stared at Abby Ruth, but she had a feeling it looked more like an expression of constipation. “I’m not about to forget that you strong-armed me into this, do you hear me?”

“Sugar, I am not hard of hearing.”

The Cocklebur Cloggers were stomping and clomping and clapping in the gazebo when Maggie, Sera and Abby Ruth snuck off down the road to hop in Abby Ruth’s gigantic truck. Beforehand, they’d smiled and served sugar cookies and punch to everyone and then claimed they were retiring to the house to take naps. Abby Ruth had sneered at the excuse, but Maggie told her it would keep anyone from knocking on the door asking to use the powder room.

Alibi in the can, they approached Nash’s house, a modest redbrick ranch with crisp white trim. But the lawn sprouted a few taller patches. Maggie looked closer. The edging was also going scraggly, which meant no one had mowed and trimmed for at least a week.

Didn’t have to be Jessica Fletcher to figure this out.
He was neglecting the yard. Based on those rumors about his need for order, she’d bet that he’d never let his landscaping go wild like this. This investigation stuff wasn’t so hard.

They cruised by Nash’s and parked two streets over. “Remind me why we didn’t bring my truck,” Maggie asked. It sure would’ve been less conspicuous than this great white whale.

“I don’t like to ride,” Abby Ruth shot back.

Of course you don’t.

“We should go in through the rear,” Sera said.

“And remind me why we came in broad daylight?” Maggie glanced to her left and right. On the other side of the street, Mr. Dooley was shuffling along on his walker, his ancient bloodhound by his side, and Maggie ducked down in the seat. No one here really knew Sera or Abby Ruth, but she was becoming part of this community. “Tell me when he’s gone.”

“Dear God, get that man a Buick or at least a faster dog,” Abby Ruth said.

Finally, the street was clear.

They slid from the truck and Abby Ruth led them in a kind of crouching run. By the time they made it to Nash’s back yard, Maggie’s breath was rasping in and out of her throat and her armpits were filled with as much water as the Atlantic.

This investigative stuff is hard as H E double L.

Maggie stood in the shade of the back porch and fanned her overheated face.

“You know yoga will help with aerobic capacity, right?” Sera whispered.

God help them all. If anyone saw her doing that peeing dog pose, they’d be struck blind. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Can we skip the fitness advice and get inside?” Abby Ruth said.

The key Warner had given Maggie slid cleanly into the lock and turned with a muted click. Her galloping heart and hitching breath smoothed a little. “We’re in.”

The door opened into a mudroom, if a room tiled in wall-to-wall white
could be called such a thing.

Abby Ruth sucked in an audible breath. “Damn, I needed to marry a man like this.”

“Probably has a maid,” Sera said.

“You’ve got a point there.”

Maggie tiptoed into the kitchen, floored in the same pristine ceramic tile. The cabinets gleamed in a high-gloss white finish and the countertops sported gray soapstone. This man needed some color in his life. “What are we looking for, exactly?” she asked.

“Pretty much anything suspicious,” Abby Ruth said. Well, that certainly narrowed things down. “We should each take a room and search it. Look for scribbles on random bits of paper,
open bills, dig through the trash.”

“I’ll check the bathrooms,” Sera offered and off she went.

After the kitchen, the first room Maggie and Abby Ruth came across was the den and Abby Ruth broke off there. Maggie continued into a bedroom that had been converted to an office. The floor was done in a slate tile, and the desk and credenza were—surprise, surprise—white lacquer accented with glass and chrome.

Maggie hurried to the credenza. The first drawer held six matching bamboo trays filled with office supplies. The paper clips were all silver and there was no mingling between them and thumbtacks.

The second drawer was empty except for a super-sized lint roller. Must’ve had five-hundred sheets on it.

The cabinets underneath weren’t much more exciting.
Printer paper with perfectly aligned edges, ten extra ink cartridges and a label maker.

Maybe they were wrong. Maybe Nash was exactly what he appeared to be, a well-dressed, upstanding young businessman.
Because none of this was suspicious unless his stapler and tape were involved in some conspiracy.

From down the hall, she heard Abby Ruth and Sera comparing their finds.

“What’d you get?” Abby Ruth asked.

“I don’t think the guy is sexually active,” Sera said. “Or if he is, he’s not sexually responsible.”

“And you figure this how?”

“No condoms,” Sera replied. “What about you?”

“I don’t have any condoms either, but this guy is a freak and a half, that’s for sure. His remote controls are not only dust-free, but they’re lined up perfectly. What man does that?”

“None I’ve ever met.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” Abby Ruth shot back. “Okay, I’m heading for the master bedroom.”

“I’m moving on too.”

Maggie crawled under the desk and knocked her head against one side. As she rubbed at the bump already forming, a drawer slid out, pretty as you please, from the kick plate. Maggie scrambled back out and snatched up the heavy leather-bound book filling the drawer.

She flipped it open to find rows and columns outlined in red and green. Someone had written in those little boxes with a sharpened pencil.

Oh, Lord. A ledger. A ledger with lots of entries and lots of zeroes.

The air in Maggie’s lungs stalled. Those zeroes meant money. Meant they were right about Nash Talley.

Maggie pushed herself to her feet and race-walked to the kitchen.

“All I know,” Abby Ruth was saying, “
is this guy ain’t right in the head. Look what I found in his pantry.” She gestured to the pile of Ivory Soap and hand sanitizer sitting shoulder high on the kitchen island.

“I’ve got one better.” Maggie slipped the ledger onto the counter, pushing aside soap with her elbow. “I don’t know what it is, but if it’s kept in a secret drawer, it’s probably something he doesn’t want anyone else to see.”

Abby Ruth hip-checked her. “Good work, sugar.”

A warm glow settled in her chest. They riffled through the pages. The entry descriptions were in some kind of code, but the numbers didn’t lie. These double entries balanced
perfectly, and not only that, there appeared to be a repeating pattern each month.

Nash Talley had been keeping track of thousands upon thousands of dollars. Whatever he was into, it was
way bigger than Lillian’s desperate Social Security fraud. Anger simmered in Maggie’s insides.

“Let’s load up,” Abby Ruth said.

“Wait a minute,” Maggie said. “We need to put this back in case Nash comes looking for it. Right now, he has no idea we’re on to him.”

Suddenly, the doorbell ding-donged and they all dropped into a crouch, with Maggie hugging the ledger to her chest.

“What do we do?” she whispered to Abby Ruth.

“Stay behind the island while I check it out.”

“You’re not answering the door, are you?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Abby Ruth peered around the corner of the kitchen island.

Two booming knocks came from the front door. “Talley, you in there?” a man called.

“Teague’s always been too smart for his own damn good.” Abby Ruth scrambled back like a long-legged crab.