The Bogus Biker (6 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Daddy, did you ever wish I’d been a boy?” Penelope asked while they ate less than authentic sweet and sour chicken, fried rice, and egg rolls from the deli. She’d tasted real Chinese food at the best restaurants in four states, and this wasn’t it.

“Can’t say that I did.
Why?”

“I just wondered. Sometimes I think I wish Bradley had been a girl.”

“He’s a good boy.”

“I know that, but we’re not close like I might’ve been with a girl.”

“Wynne and I were real happy with you, Nellie. Took us long enough to get you here. We’d about given up. Then when you were three, she had that late miscarriage, and by the time that was over, we knew you’d be all we’d ever have.”

“I guess it’s a good thing Bradley was all I had, although I’d have liked one or two more.”

“But not with Travis.”

“Right.
Not with Travis.”

Jake shook his head and selected another egg roll from the pasteboard carton. “I knew he was a wild kid, but I never figured him for a womanizer after the two of you married. Reckon his folks are spinning in their graves out there at Pembroke Point.”

I’d heard a few things before we married, but I thought he’d change. I was blessed wrong about that, now, wasn’t I?
“At least I got Bradley out of the deal.”

“You ever think about marrying again? I mean, Bradley’s grown, and you’re still young enough to…” His voice trailed off.

“You know I can’t do that, Daddy.”

“Because of the Church.”

“I couldn’t give that up. It’s too important.”

“You could at least go out some. I know you’ve been asked.”

“Nope. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”

“Not all men are like Travis Pembroke,
darlin’.”

She shrugged.

“Don’t you miss having a man  in your bed?”

“Daddy!”
The blood rushed from her neck to her face and down again.

“Well, Nellie, we’re two adults. It’s not like either one of us hasn’t…”

“You’re my father, for blessed Pete’s sake! It’s indecent to talk about things like that.”

Jake dipped the last bite of eggroll into the soy sauce. “I missed your mother like that. Still do.”

But I’ll bet things were good between the two of you that way. Travis wasn’t worth the time it took him to…
She rose from the table and began to clear away the cartons and plates. “Like I said, this isn’t a fit conversation for us to be having.”

Jake sighed. “I worry about you, Nellie. I’m not going to be here forever.”

“You’re healthy as a horse, and I’m happy the way I am.”

The look he gave her said he didn’t believe that for a single minute. She hated how
Tiny
flashed into her mind at that very moment, making her stomach tighten.

“Reckon
Tiny’ll be back tonight?” Jake asked, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin and adding it to the knife and fork abandoned on his empty plate.

“I have no idea.”

Penelope turned on the cold water to rinse their plates and silverware and wished she could bathe her burning face in it.

“Leave the door unlocked.”

“Since when does anyone in Amaryllis ever lock their doors?”

“The back door was locked this morning early.”

“Tiny did it.”

“Oh. Well, I guess he knows the way upstairs.”

“I guess he does.”

“You put everything in his room?”

“It’s all there. Thanks for doing the shopping.”

“Sure, sure.
I’m going to watch ‘Law and Order’. Want to watch with me?”

“No, thanks, Daddy.
I’ve got some things to do upstairs.
Like take a cold shower.

He walked to the sink and pecked her cheek, which was still hot to the touch.
“Night, darlin’.”

****

She showered and went to bed with the latest nursing journal. Since she kept up her nursing license, she figured she should keep up with all the new techniques and developments in medicine, too. Not that she ever thought about going back to work. The B&B kept her busy enough. Being an innkeeper let her meet new people. Healthy people all in one piece. People she didn’t have to patch up or transport to the morgue.

At ten forty-five, she realized staying awake wasn’t going to make
Tiny show up, so she cut off the lamp and snuggled down, She didn’t even have time to doze off before she heard footsteps on the stairs. Not that nice family on the third floor either. They’d come in just after six, hot, sweaty, and drooping, and gone straight upstairs, obviously worn out by the family reunion. And not Jake. He never came upstairs. So it had to be Tiny.

She realized she was smiling and tried not to. Should she get up and let him know she knew he was here?
Maybe not. No, certainly not after the reaction she’d had to that indelicate conversation with her father. Certainly blessed not! She hadn’t felt that way in years, and Tiny would know, because he seemed to know everything.

Listening again, she heard the footsteps moving toward the front room. He’d find the underwear, socks, and pajamas, the toiletries and the fresh pillowcase. Maybe she should check his wound to make sure it was clean. No, he was a big boy. He could look in the mirror and wash it with
the peroxide she’d left in plain sight along with the bandage.

When she heard the door close, she turned over and closed her eyes and wished she could close her mind as well.

CHAPTER TWELVE

(Sunday)

The alarm on her bedside table at 5 AM woke Penelope from a restless sleep. Rolling over on her back she let her mind drift over the day ahead. Breakfast for the third-floor guests, late Mass, maybe get a head start on cleaning. She sat up and put her feet over the side of the bed. As they touched the shaggy pink throw rug, the consciousness of
Tiny’s presence at the end of the hall hit her like a wrecking ball. Her body actually quivered as if it were trying to decide whether to topple or stand. She stood up to prove she could do it.
Don’t you miss a man in your bed?
The memory of Jake’s words made her blush again.

By nine o’clock, the nice little family had departed, full of breakfast and bearing the lunch she’d insisted on making for them. They’d thanked her at least half a dozen times for everything, and she’d stood on the porch waving until their mini-van turned the corner.

She’d cleared the table and put on a fresh pot of coffee when she heard Tiny coming down the stairs, circumspectly like a gentleman.
Biker, my foot! In the first place, you’re too old for that sort of nonsense, and in the second place…”

“Good morning.”

She didn’t turn around. “Good morning. I’ll have your breakfast in a few minutes.”

“That’s all right. I can get something in town.”

“You won’t find anything open on Sunday, and besides, there’s plenty of batter left, and the waffle iron heats quick.”

A chair scraped the wide terrazzo tile as he sat down. “Thanks for the things you left in my room.”

“You’re welcome. Daddy got them for you.”

“I had on clean clothes when I came.”

“It smells that way.”

“A biker in a
laundromat can empty out all the other customers in a hurry. Do you think I could…”

“The utility room is that way.” She jerked her head toward the folding doors she’d had installed to shut off the old-style laundry room from the rest of the kitchen.

“Thanks. I stashed my stuff in the garage.”

Just making
yourself right at home, aren’t you?
“Where are your buddies?”

“Probably out looking for trouble.
At least they’re not looking for me. They think I went off Rosedale Bridge into Pine Branch Creek.”

“What
do they think that?”

“Because I meant for them to, I guess.”

Penelope let herself look at him as she brought his coffee. He presented a different picture without the grimy bandana covering his wavy gray hair, now neatly combed back. He’d shaved off his sideburns and the chin stubble. Instead of leather, he wore new jeans and a dark green knit golf shirt. When he said, “Yeah, it’s really me,” she realized she’d been staring.

“What are you anyway?
FBI? DEA? Or maybe one of the bad guys?”

He shook his head. “I’ll never tell.” Then he grinned. “But it’s Sam now, not Tiny.”

“Sam what?”

“Just Sam.
I am Sam, play-it-again-Sam, good Sam. Take your pick.”

She curled her lip and began to spoon batter onto the smoking waffle iron. A few minutes later, when she slid the plate in front of him, he laughed—a rumbling sound reminding her of the old men who used to sit on a bench in front of the courthouse when she was a little girl, feeding the squirrels, reliving their glory days in the first World War, and keeping tabs on everyone’s comings and goings. “Clown waffles?”

“The little boys staying on the third floor loved them.” She took a pitcher of warm syrup from the microwave and set it down. “I used to make them for Bradley. He thought they were pretty special.”

“He probably wouldn’t appreciate you telling me that.”

“Probably not. By the way, how do you know my son?”

“Uh-uh. I was ready for that question.”

She poured herself another cup of coffee and sat down across from him. “Did you clean that place on your head last night? It really needed stitches. I could’ve done it if I’d had what I needed, but…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Penelope leaned on her elbows. “If you’re going to use my bed and breakfast for covert operations, I ought to know something about them. And about you.”

“No, you oughtn’t.”

“Oughtn’t? I don’t here that much around here.”

He wiped syrup from his lips. “I’m not from around here.”

“But you’re here, as at the B&B. For how long, by the way?”

“Until I leave.”

“Well, how blessed long is that?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“I’m empty until Thursday. Then I’ll fill up for the Black Walnut Festival.”

He looked up with no hint of humor in his blue eyes.
Blue as the summer sky…but sad. Or maybe haunted.

“I might want to hang around until then.”

“Be my guest—literally.” She hoped he couldn’t see how her heart was pounding under the ribbed white turtleneck.

“You’ll be reimbursed. What do you charge per night?”

“Fifty for that front room.”

“It’s a nice room.”

“It belonged to my grandparents and then my parents. Who’ll be paying?”

“Nobody you’ll ever know.”

She pursed her lips. “Fine, have it your way.”

“I will.”

“Do I get a Junior G-Man badge, too?”

His mouth twitched.
“If you want one.”

She glared. “Forget it.”

As he’d done before, he carried his dishes to the sink and rinsed them. “I’m going out for a while. Do you always leave the back door unlocked?”

“Everybody in Amaryllis leaves their back doors unlocked.”

“Not a good idea.”

“It has been so far.”

“It’s not now.” His feet, encased in white tennis shoes without a logo, made no sound on the tile as he moved toward the back door. “You go by Penelope or Nellie?”

“My father calls me Nellie. How did you know my name was Penelope?”

“I know stuff.”

“I just bet you do, Mr. Eastwood.”

He smiled a little. “You saw ‘In the Line of Fire’?”

“Three times.
He’s a hunk.”

“A hunk?”
He appeared to be trying not to laugh.

She nodded.

He lifted his hand to wave as he disappeared through the door, and Penelope’s eyes fell on the clock to the right. With luck, she’d slide into Mass before anyone knew she was late.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Jake’s truck wasn’t in the drive when Penelope got home from Mass. That meant he was either with the Toney Twins at a coffee shop on the interstate or hitting balls on the practice green—which was as far as he’d gotten in learning to play golf.

She parked in the garage and then went around
to check out the attached shed. Sure enough, Tiny’s—or Sam’s—cycle nestled in a corner covered by the tarp that used to be on Jake’s riding mower, the one he’d bought as a concession to his reduced endurance after his stroke.
Daddy’s not going to like seeing his favorite toy sitting out like that.
She replaced the tarp and went into the house for an old blanket to put over the cycle.

She had trouble finding the keys for the garage and the padlock on the shed, but when she finally had everything locked up, she felt better. No use anybody snooping around and seeing something out of place. If those bikers thought Tiny had gone off Rosedale Bridge into Pine Branch Creek, so be it.
R.I.P. Tiny.

Mary Lynn sat at the kitchen table drinking warmed-over coffee and eating a blueberry cream cheese muffin. “What were you doing out there?”

“Nothing.” Penelope returned the keys to the hook by the back door and washed her hands at the sink.

“Nothing took you a long time. I’ve been here fifteen minutes.”

“Where’s Harry?”

“We went to early Mass because he had a ten o’clock tee-time this morning.”

“Oh.”

“I saw Jake at early Mass, too.”

“I guess he was going to meet the Toney Twins somewhere afterwards. Tim and Tom Toney, whom no one but their mother could tell apart, had lived eighty years as ‘the Toney Twins’, never marrying and still occupying the house they were born in.

“Everybody gone?”

“Yes. That nice little family with the twins left right after breakfast.”

“I thought I’d help you clean this afternoon, and then we don’t have to worry about it for the rest of the week.”

“That sounds good.”

“Did you know there was more trouble at the Sit-n-Swill last night?

Penelope didn’t know, but she was sure she looked guilty anyway as she wondered if Tiny and the Bikers had been involved. “No, what happened?”

“Bikers.
Got into it with a couple of guys from the Hollow and started tearing up the place. Parnell called for backup from the county, but nobody showed. So he went in and broke up the fight and cleaned the place out.”

“Parnell can do that. Did he make any arrests?”

“I think those two from Possum Hollow cooled their heels in the jail overnight, but the bikers took off.” Mary Lynn popped the last of the muffin into her mouth. “Let’s get started upstairs.” She looked at Penelope. “You’re still dressed.” She leaned across the table. “What was so important outside you had to take care of it before changing out of your Sunday-go-to-meeting duds?”

Penelope’s face grew warm.
“Nothing. I told you. I’ll make a quick change while you start stripping beds.”

Still mulling over the bikers’ brawl and the possibility of Tiny being part of it, Penelope almost didn’t see Mary Lynn start for the front room. “Don’t go in there!”

“Huh?” Mary Lynn’s hand dropped away from the glass doorknob.

“This weekend’s guests stayed on the third floor.” Penelope thought she might be babbling.

“Which room did those men have?”

“Bradley’s old room, but I’ve already cleaned it.”

Mary Lynn’s hand snaked back to the knob on the door of the front room and had it open before Penelope could utter another protest. “This room’s so big you could put another double bed in here and…” Her mouth fell open. “This room’s not clean!”

“Close the blessed door, Mary Lynn.”

“Who…”

“Just leave it alone.”

Mary Lynn peered at her friend through narrowed eyes. “Penelope Corinne Louise, there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“So? Close the door.” Penelope turned her back and stalked off down the hall to change her clothes.

They cleaned the third-floor apartment in total silence. On their way downstairs, Penelope said, “If you say one blessed word about that front room—and I mean to anybody, even Harry—you will no longer be my best friend.”

Mary Lynn snorted. “What’s the deal, Pen? You have a secret lover or something?”

Penelope stopped and put her hands on her hips. “I do not! That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“I was only joking.” Mary Lynn chewed her bottom lip. “But it does look suspicious.”

“Thanks for helping me clean. Now go home.”

“You’re a bad liar, you know.”

Penelope shrugged. “We can’t all be talented like that. I remember the time you tried to convince Miss Maude Pendleton to give you an extra week on your English term paper because you’d been at the bedside of a dying uncle in the Bronx.”

Mary Lynn giggled like the school girl she’d been. “She’d have bought it, too, if she hadn’t known somehow that both my parents were only children.”

“She knew everything.”
I know stuff.
Tiny’s words rang in Penelope’s ears.

Mary Lynn grabbed her purse from the mirrored hat and coat stand by the front door. “Well, if you need to
confess anything in the wee hours of the morning, better call me instead of Fr. Loeffler.”

“Not a word, Mary Lynn. I mean it.”

Penelope waited to hear Mary Lynn’s car peel away, then went back upstairs and cleaned Tiny’s room. Or Sam’s room. Whoever he was.

****

She baked pork chops and made scalloped potatoes for dinner, though which Jake regaled her with the Toney Twins’ latest exploits. They’d driven over to a car show in Nashville in their ’67 Mustang and gotten stopped by the state police three times going and four times coming home. “Showed me seven warning tickets, all for the same busted tail light,” Jake said, almost choking on his last bite of potatoes.

“That tail light’s been broken for at least a year, ever since old Mrs. Murdock backed into them at the Garden Market. Or they backed into her. Bradley gave up trying to find out.”

“You know that, and I know that, but seven different smokies don’t.”

“That’s not fair, Daddy. The state troopers are just trying to do their jobs. I think it was pretty nice of them to just give the
Toneys a warning.”

“Seven of them!”
Jake almost screamed with laughter. “Seven!”

Penelope took out the lemon icebox pie and set it on the cabinet. She’d just touched the knife to the whipped cream topping when she saw a shadow zip past the window over the sink and round the corner of the garage. Letting the knife tumble into the sink, she flung open the back door and yelled, “Who’s out there?”

The shadow hesitated, then dashed off, but not before she caught the gleam of metal studs on black leather in the light from the gas lamp on the driveway. “Daddy, call the police! Somebody’s trying to break into the garage.”

Jake ambled over to look out the door. “They don’t have to break in. It’s not locked.”

“It is, too. I did it this morning after…just go call the police. And hurry, before they get away.”