| |
When his stomach rumbled, Brody cleaned himself up and headed to A Pleasant Meal. The little restaurant was full again, and the only seat available was at the counter next to Herb Paxton.
After he slipped onto the chair, the older man turned to him. When recognition clicked in, Herb’s smile slowly faded.
“Good morning,” Brody said.
“Morning,” Herb mumbled as he turned his attention back to his cup of black coffee.
The waitress in the brown apron appeared. “The usual?” she asked.
He’d only been in once, so he was surprised if she could recall it after a single visit. “If you can remember it,” Brody said, “then yes.”
“Black coffee. Three scrambled eggs. Hash browns. Sausage links, not patties.” Her eyes rolled up and to the left as she thought. When she latched onto something, she returned her gaze to Brody. “And a banana to go.”
He nodded his approval.
She completed an order receipt and hung it on the ticket wheel for the short-order cooks. She filled a mug of coffee and placed it in front of Brody. Then she veered off into the restaurant to help another customer.
Brody turned to Herb. “Can I ask you something?”
The older man lifted his head but didn’t bother to face Brody. “You find out where Alice is?”
“Not yet.”
“Then no,” Herb said, “you cannot ask me a question.” He lifted his cup of coffee and took a sip.
“It’s about Alice.”
The older man eyed Brody.
“What can you tell me about her? Have you known her the entire time she was here?”
Herb lowered his cup and stared into the coffee for so long that Brody thought the man was ignoring him. Finally, he said, “She changed a lot over the years.”
“How so?”
“When she first got here, she was young. In her twenties. She was man-crazy at the time.”
The way Herb said it revealed that he didn’t approve of that time in Alice Walker’s life.
“It was the early eighties, and times were different, I guess. She had some suitors from as far away as York Harbah and Eliot. When a woman’s got man-fevah, guys are attracted to her like moths to a porch light.”
Brody sipped his coffee and watched Herb struggle with his words.
“You know how these stories go. She eventually fell in love with a man. Gilbert Griffiths. Ol’ Gil was nice enough, I suppose. Nicah than most of the ones she ran around with at the time. He lived ovah in Rollinsford. They carried on a relationship for almost twenty years.”
Herb fell silent as he watched the short-order cooks.
“They never married?”
He shook his head. “Nevah. They didn’t even live together.”
“For twenty years?”
“Thereabouts, yeah. Rumor had it that Alice was the one who refused to get hitched.”
“Why?”
Herb shrugged. “She nevah explained herself on anything to anyone. She ain’t that kind of woman.”
“And Gil was okay with it?”
“If he wasn’t, he nevah said nothing about it. The two of them did things togethah every day. Most folks considered them married, even though they lived twenty minutes apart.”
“That’s probably why they stayed together for so long,” the big man said.
Herb fell silent again, and Brody left him to his thoughts. It was evident that the older man cared for Alice, but the affection had only been one way.
After a few minutes, Herb said, “When Gil got sick, Alice took care of him. She was special that way. His death tore her up. It was sad to see the change in her. She wasn’t the same.”
“You’re sweet on her.”
“Hard not to be. Alice Walkah is a real beauty.” He sipped his coffee.
“Notice anything lately about her? Maybe a change in how she acted or her habits?”
The older man thought about it for a moment. “The only real change I noticed was when she started hanging out with that youngah woman. About a year ago. They met through the bookstore.”
“What were they doing?”
“Alice told me that the woman was a writah. She’d originally come into the store for some books to read. The two of them started talking about stories, and suddenly Alice was helping her develop some ideas for a new mystery.”
“Really? Did you meet her?”
“A couple times. She’s kind of an intense lady.”
“Intense, how?”
He gnawed on his lower lip while he thought. “She’s got those eyes that take everything in. Like a hawk.”
Or a cop.
“Remember her name?” Brody asked.
“Carrie something or other. Her books have their own display at the front of the store. It shouldn’t be hard to find.” Herb’s eyes drifted suspiciously to Brody. “Especially for the new ownah of The Red Herring.”
Carrie Fenton, Brody thought. Her books were on display at the front of the store. He’d also seen a little sticky note stuck to the computer that had her phone number written on it.
“What else can you tell me about her? Carrie Fenton, I mean.”
Herb seemed disappointed that Brody ignored his slight. He stared back into his coffee. “I guess she’s nice. About my granddaughter’s age. Too many tattoos for my taste.”
“How many is too many?”
“On a girl? One.”
Brody smiled. The older man wouldn’t have liked any of the girls that hung around the motorcycle club.
“Whenevah I came around, Alice and Carrie would stop talking. It always seemed like they were scheming up something.”
“Scheming?”
“Yeah,” Herb said. “You know how two women can be together, sharing secrets and laughs. It was like they were always making plans for something.”
“Does Carrie live in town?”
“No. She lives over in the big city.”
“Boston?”
“Dover.”