The Outsmarting of Criminals: A Mystery Introducing Miss Felicity Prim (19 page)

I
n the space of her brief visit, Miss Prim had developed quite an affection for Elizabeth Saxe-Coburg. Miss Prim’s promise to visit again was not an idle one; she never made a promise she did not intend to keep.

She
walked to the visitors’ center to return her badge and bade the receptionist a good day. As she turned to exit the building, she looked up and saw Miss Gladys Lavelle striding aggressively toward her.

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Goody-Two-Shoes,” Miss Lavelle said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “What are
you
doing here?”

Miss Prim was caught off guard, and
she responded quite as she would have to a rational person.

“Oh, hello, Miss Lavelle. I have come to …”

“I know what you’ve come to do, Missy. It’s not enough for you to ride into Greenfield on your horse and become everyone’s best friend overnight. Now you want to conquer Two Oaks and Heavenly Pastures, too. Just Miss Prim and her warm, sticky cinnamon rolls worming their way into everyone’s hearts. Well, I’ve got your number, sister.
I’m
the goodwill volunteer here, not you. Go spread your sunshine down in New York City, or some other place that doesn’t see you for exactly what you are: an attention-seeking little drama queen. And stay out of my way, and off my turf, or you’ll regret it.” With that, Miss Lavelle stalked off, leaving Miss Prim standing with her mouth agape in a manner that Mrs. Charity Prim would have heartily disapproved of.

Harmless Meddling

The day was still young after Miss Prim’s visit to Heavenly Pastures, and workaday tasks needed her attention. During her first trip to Prothero’s she hadn’t purchased everything she needed because she and Lorraine had been on foot, and her shopping list had expanded as a result of her promise to cook delicious, edible meals for Kit. Realizing that Miss Lavelle could not be simultaneously visiting Heavenly Pastures and womanning one of Prothero’s cash registers, Miss Prim pulled the Zap into the market’s parking lot. As she pushed her cart through the aisles, she stopped to introduce herself to other shoppers, retrieving the murder victim’s photo from her handbag and asking if anyone recognized him. Nobody did.

Examining the
overwhelming selection of breakfast cereals, she looked up from the overpriced granolas and noticed a headful of dreadlocks across the aisle. Faye Cotillard was deep in conversation with a tall, thin, harried-looking man with a profusion of wrinkles and thinning fair hair.

Faye caught her eye. “Miss Prim! Hi!”

Miss Prim squeezed Faye’s arm in greeting. “Faye, how are you, dear?”

“I need a job, Miss Prim. Everyone else my age is out working, and I just sit around
, writing in my journal and drinking too much coffee. Do you know Mr. Prothero? I’m trying to convince him to hire me.”

“I haven’t had the pleasure,” Miss Prim said, extending her hand to Mr. Prothero.
“I am Miss Felicity Prim. I just moved into the Saxe-Coburgs’ house on Undercliff Lane.”

Mr. Prothero shook Miss Prim’s hand. His own was rather sweaty and slippery.

“Ethan Prothero. Welcome to Greenfield, Miss Prim. I’m sorry for that, um, encounter with Miss Lavelle. She has a wonderful heart, but she sometimes lacks patience and other, um, social graces.”

Mrs. Charity Prim’s train
ing kicked in immediately. Isn’t it the mark of the well-bred person to help others feel comfortable and at ease, especially in tense situations? “No need to apologize, Mr. Prothero. I’m afraid I come on rather strong sometimes. My mother always said I was much too aggressive in social situations, and I am starting to think that may be the case.” The second half of that statement was true, the first half patently false. “Perhaps I have been trying too hard to become a part of the Greenfield social fabric. These things take time and cannot be accomplished overnight. And I do think my relationship with Miss Lavelle is improving ever so slightly. We saw each other not an hour ago and engaged in a not wholly unpleasant exchange.” Some might argue that Miss Prim was prevaricating; but her words, if carefully parsed, could be corroborated, for the equation went something like this:

  Miss Lavelle’s vicious attack

+  Miss Prim’s attempt to be polite

=   A not wholly unpleasant exchange

“I’ve seen her in action a million times and she
can
be one tough cookie,” Faye put in. “She’s never been anything but nice to me and Kit, though. I figure, why look a gift horse in the mouth?” She turned to the store’s proprietor. “So, what do you say, Mr. Prothero?”

“
I do need another cashier, now that Hazel has retired,” Ethan Prothero said, his unease evident. “And I suppose if Gladys would accept
anyone
new at the front end, it would be you. Come to my office and let’s fill out the paperwork.”

“Thanks, Mr. P! I owe you, I really do. Miss Prim, can we catch up later?”

“Of course, dear. Faye, before I forget, are you available this weekend? A close friend, who is much closer to your age than to mine, will be visiting. Perhaps you and Kit might join us for tea and parlor games? I know you and Dolly would get along famously.”

“Sure, I’ve got nothing but time, Miss Prim. As long as
I’m not working! Right, Mr. P?”

Mr. Prothero looked over his shoulder helplessly at Miss Prim as Faye herded him down the aisle.
Young womanhood at its finest
, Miss Prim thought. For was this not woman’s lot in life, to perpetually be keeping after the male species, ensuring that they do what needs to be done rather than thinking about sports all day long?

Miss
Prim loaded her groceries into the Zap and decided to complete one last errand before returning to Rose Cottage. She locked the Zap’s doors and cut across the town square to Maude’s Tavern. The lunch crowd had dispersed and the after-work crowd had not yet gathered, which meant that Miss Prim was able to walk unimpeded to the bar. Maude stood there dunking glassware into a basin of soapy water, holding each tumbler up to the light to ensure an absence of spots.

Miss Prim perched herself on a bar
stool.

“Hello, Maude. How are you today?”

“Fine.”

“I see you are experiencing a lull. It must be nice to have a respite from the
flocks of hungry and thirsty villagers.”

“Yeah.”

“Maude, I hope you won’t think me too familiar, but I have a bit of a sensitive topic to broach with you. Will you promise to consider with an open mind what I’m about to suggest?”

“Yup.”

“Here’s the thing, Maude. I was speaking with Valeska Reed over at the bookstore. She made the very good point that Greenfield’s merchants should support one another, not work against one another’s interests. I don’t think anyone would disagree with that, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I’m afraid Mrs. Reed thinks that your willingness to provide free reading materials for the townspeople—over there, on your shelves—affects her ability to sell books. After thinking it through, I must say I agree with her. I don’t think anyone is opposed to the sharing of good books with friends and family. But the truth of the modern world is that people seem to want everything for free, and why pay for something when you don’t have to? Unfortunately, this philosophy greatly devalues books. Wouldn’t you concur that the amount of pleasure given by a book is worth the few dollars one must spend for it? All those hardworking writers, editors, cover designers, and typesetters—these people must be paid to continue their work. With no revenue, how will anyone get paid? How will they feed their families and send their children to college? Books have tremendous worth, and we must not do anything to make them seem less valuable. Do you see what I am getting at, Maude?”

Maude
nodded his head once.

“So, might you be wi
lling to do something about those shelves of free books, Maude?”

“Well
…”

“Tha
nk you for considering it. I know Mrs. Reed will be most appreciative also.” Miss Prim suddenly recalled a task she had been given. “While I’m here, Maude, it also occurs to me—I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman, other than Peg, working behind the bar with you. Yet New England has a long tradition of the tavern keeper and his wife working together to run the business. Is there a Mrs. Maude?”

“Nah.”

“No special woman in your life?”

“Nah.”

“So I see we have a great deal in common. We are both single and happy. Though perhaps it may be said that we are married to our careers.”

Maude grunted. “Eh.”

“Do you remember the woman I lunched with the other day—my sister Celia? She, too, is single.”

“
Yeah.”

“
Will you forgive me for being such an unrepentant meddler? I think she may have found you just the tiniest bit attractive.”

“Hmmm.”

“If you would like, I could arrange for a more formal get-together during her next visit. Is that an arrangement you might enjoy?”

“Yup
.”

“Well, then, Maude. Stay tuned for more details, if you please.”

“Right.”

Miss Prim
took her leave, rose from the stool, straightened her skirt, and walked toward the tavern’s front entrance. As she left, she saw Maude emerge from the back of the tavern carrying a large cardboard box. Outside, Miss Prim peeked through the window and watched as Maude began removing books from the shelves and transferring them into the box.

*

As Miss Prim began her stroll back to the Zap, she heard a loud but friendly bark. She looked up to see Bruno tied to a lamppost outside the Greenfield Post Office. She caught his eye and watched as he attempted to dislodge the lamppost in an attempt to reach her.

“Stay!” she commanded, walking to him and getting down on her haunches to receive his enthusiastic greetings. A moment later, the door
leading to the building’s second floor opened and Kit came running out.

“Miss Prim, what’s up? Me and Bruno are getting a few things done.”

Miss Prim looked at the lettering on the glass door:
Greenfield Historical Society
. “Oh, are you interested in history, Kit?”

“I have a project for school. I
thought Gil could help.”

“Gil?”

“Gil Fellowes. He’s the old geez—I mean, he’s the old guy—I mean, he’s the guy who runs the place.”

“D
id you find the answers you sought?”

“No,
he’s not there. Or he’s
pretending
he’s not there. Sometimes he hides in the back room when he doesn’t feel like talking to anyone. Sometimes he goes out for coffee and leaves the place empty. I’m gonna go over to Beantown to see if I can find him. You wanna come with?”

Kit untied Bruno’s leash from the lamppost, Miss Prim locked her arm in Kit’s, and the three began walking to Beantown. Miss Prim thought Kit seemed uncomfortable, so she released her grip on his arm.

“Do forgive me, Kit. I am sometimes too emotionally effusive. I am sure you do not want your friends to see you walking arm in arm through the town square with a woman old enough to be your grandmother. I should have considered that
before
I grabbed your arm like a drowning woman clutching at a life preserver.”

“It’s just that I never real
ly walked around with an old la—I mean, a new friend, before.”

“I shall be more cognizant of these things in the future, Kit. It’s just that I’ve become so fond of you, in such a short time, and
—as Miss Lavelle has noted, I can be much too forward in these matters.”

“Don’t worry about her, M
iss Prim,” Kit said. And then, in a moment Miss Prim would never forget, he locked his arm through hers as they continued walking through the square.

*

After Kit tied Bruno’s leash to a bike rack outside Beantown, the two friends entered the coffeehouse. Kit spied a bowtie-wearing older gentleman with sparse white hair sipping from a steaming mug in a far corner.

“That’s Gil!” Kit ex
claimed and took off. Gil looked highly alarmed at being approached so rapidly and forcefully. Well, it is good for historians to experience the
present
, Miss Prim thought, as she felt a gentle touch on her arm from behind.

“Hello, M
iss Prim,” Detective Dawes said with that disarming smile of his. In one hand he held a cup of coffee; in the other, a prune danish. “Care to join me?”

“Detective! I don’t mind if I do. Let me order myself a cup of tea and I’ll be right with you.”

“My treat. Lemon and honey?”

Miss Prim nodded in the affirmative.

“I remember that’s how you fixed your tea the day we met. That’s my table, right there. The one with the Lee Child book on it.”

“How kind of you, Detective,” Miss Prim said, settling herself at the detective’s table and wondering if she should be drinking tea with a man she found so attractive
—
especially
when she had not yet sorted out her feelings for Doctor Poe. She would sort those feelings out, she swore to herself, as soon as she could find the time.