Chapter 17
“But Dolly was way ahead of them.” Priss finally set her wineglass down. She picked little bits of cheese off her piece of pizza and nibbled on them. “Dolly called his former girlfriend and invited her to have dinner with him. Imagine this scenario, two angry mothers, and two girls vying for the same guy.”
“He must have been very special.”
“Just an average Joe,” muttered Olivia.
“That’s not true.” Priss leaned toward me. “Percy is very good-looking. I still see him around town sometimes. If I had been younger . . .”
“Thank heaven you weren’t,” said her sister. “He was being torn in every direction. The last thing we would have needed was you chasing him.”
“Percy? Percy McAllister?”
“That’s the one,” said Priss.
How odd. When her friend mentioned Percy, Maisie had acted as though she didn’t remember him. “What finally happened?” I asked.
“He picked the other girl over Maisie!” Priss shrieked. She immediately clapped a hand over her mouth. “I hope she didn’t hear me.”
Ohhh. That explained Maisie’s behavior. Maybe she was embarrassed to have been engaged to such a jerk. I might have acted that way, too, if I were in her shoes.
“Dolly was relieved, but Maisie was devastated.”
“She blamed Dolly,” said Priss.
“Maisie was so angry that she did the two things she knew would kill Dolly. She dropped out of school, and she moved away. For six months, Dolly didn’t even know where Maisie was,” said Olivia.
“She hired a private investigator to find her.” Priss refilled her wine.
“For years, Dolly kept an eye on Maisie through the private investigator,” said Olivia. “And then one day, she paid Maisie an unexpected visit. We weren’t there, of course, but according to Dolly it all went very well at the beginning. Then Maisie told her she was planning to take night courses to finish her degree. Dolly was so thrilled that she offered to pay for the classes.”
“That was all it took to set Maisie off. I thought it sounded very generous of Dolly, but Maisie saw it as Dolly being controlling,” explained Priss.
“Did she ever finish school?” I asked.
Olivia burst into laughter. “We’re too afraid to ask her!”
“So it was really all over a boy,” I mused aloud.
Olivia frowned. “That was the breaking point. But it had been building for a long time. Dolly wanted a better life for Maisie, but Maisie felt stifled, as though Dolly wouldn’t allow her to make her own decisions.”
“And now she’s gone, and it’s too late to put their problems behind them.” I thought about my own mom. “That’s very sad.”
“I think Maisie realizes that now.” Priss burst into tears. “I just can’t believe Dolly is gone.”
“I can’t, either,” said Olivia softly.
The silence that followed was awkward and my cue to go home. I rose from my seat, and to cheer them up, I asked about a photo of a cottage on the wall. “Is that where you grew up?”
“Don’t we wish!” Olivia drew near it. “That was our grandparents’ beach house.”
Next to it was a very small painting of a sunflower. Even with the simple black frame it wasn’t any bigger than five inches by five inches. “Did one of you draw this?”
Olivia stopped smiling. “We’ve had it for years. I don’t even remember where we got it.”
I nodded and thanked them for an enjoyable evening. But I felt that I left on a sour note. What was with that sunflower?
As soon as I got home, I settled on the sofa and drew the sunflower from memory. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough.
I doodled as I thought about Maisie and Percy. Who’d have thought he would be at the root of Dolly’s problems with Maisie? I was sketching his head, but it wasn’t coming out quite right. He had a narrower jawline and a prominent chin. Now it looked more like him. On the surface he was sort of pretty, but he was a hollow shell. Maisie had given up a relationship with her mother over a man who hadn’t cared enough to stick with her.
* * *
I took Peaches to work with me again in the morning. She walked to the store eagerly. Maybe she liked being with people all day long instead of hanging around home alone. I went through my routine of opening the store, poured a cup of coffee for the professor, and walked upstairs with Peaches racing ahead.
But Professor Maxwell wasn’t there. It wasn’t like him at all.
When I returned to the first floor, Veronica had arrived. The advantage to having a sister who is not only a knockout but immensely popular is that by high school you develop a well-honed ability to recognize the people who want to use you.
So when Percy showed up at Color Me Read wearing a brown short-sleeved shirt covered with the Gucci monogram, I knew something was up. After all, he was the one who had said no one wanted to buy books anymore.
He walked in somewhat tentatively. That should have come as no surprise to me. He found himself in a land where books were prized. They were the big feature. It must have felt foreign to him. When he saw me, he smiled. Chill bumps ran along my arms.
“I’m looking for Florence Fox.”
I was tempted to say that no such person worked in the store. Florrie wasn’t short for Florence. But that would have been unkind and silly. “I’m Florrie Fox.”
“I heard you were cute.”
Ugh. He was trying to kiss up to me. “How may I help you?”
“I heard . . .”
At that very moment, Veronica walked by with an armful of books to change out the window display for the upcoming signing.
Percy’s gaze followed Veronica all the way to the window.
He turned back to me. “I was told that you authenticated a coloring book called The Florist?”
“I wouldn’t say I authenticated it. I’m not an expert, but it appeared to me to be an original copy.”
He leaned against the checkout counter and gave me a sideways look that I thought was supposed to be flirtatious. “This isn’t the best place to talk. I’d like to get to know you better. How about having dinner with me tonight at Porcino? It’s impossible to get a table on short notice, but they know me there.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. He was well-known at a restaurant called pig? With enormous relief, I said, “Thank you for your kind invitation, but I’m seeing someone.”
He straightened up. “You’re kidding.”
I should have been insulted, but I laughed at him. He wasn’t good at this. I stepped out of my polite bookstore manager shoes for a moment. “I think we both realize that you’re not here to date me. And I know you don’t buy books. What is it that you want?”
He held up his palms. “Okay. I can see that you are all business. As a man of industry myself, I can appreciate that. He took out a checkbook. “How about a little business transaction between the two of us?”
There were two things in the world that I was certain about at that moment. The first was that I would never take a check from Percy, even if he forgot himself and wanted to buy books. The second was that there wasn’t a business transaction of any kind that I would be willing to enter into with him. “This is a bookstore. If you would like to buy books, I would be delighted to sell them to you. We don’t take checks.”
“Gotcha.” He winked and pointed his index finger at me. “I understand what you’re saying.” He left the desk, sidled up to Veronica, and said something that made her giggle.
Zsazsa and Professor Goldblum hurried into the store.
“We need to speak with you,” said Zsazsa.
“Privately,” added Goldblum.
“I’m almost finished here. I’ll meet you upstairs?” They nodded their agreement and stopped by the coffee to help themselves.
Percy returned with two books from the show window. He handed me a dark dystopian detective book and a mystery by a Swedish author written in the original Swedish.
“You read Swedish?” I inquired.
“Is that what that is?”
Had I been a meaner person, I would have rung them up. Instead, I set them aside. “Why don’t you just tell me what you want?”
Percy took a deep breath and for the first time, I thought the real guy was speaking to me. “Look, I sold The Florist at an estate sale by mistake.”
“I was there.”
“Funny, I don’t remember you.”
No kidding.
“The woman who bought it has died and no one can find the book. The woman who hired me to arrange the estate sale is going to sue me for the value of the book, which is apparently a small fortune. I don’t have that kind of money.” He pointed at me with his whole hand. “Since you’re the one who identified it as being old”—he flicked his pen on his checkbook—“I thought maybe we could enter into an arrangement that would change your recollection of the book?”
“You’re asking me to lie about it?”
“No!” His eyes blinked open wide. “I would never ask that. Perish the thought! I’m just saying that maybe for one hun . . .”
I shook my head.
“One thou . . .”
I shook my head again.
“What’s your price?”
I took a deep breath of air and shook my head.
“Oh, come on. I would do this for you.”
Now I couldn’t help laughing out loud. “No, you wouldn’t. You can put your checkbook and pen away. There is no amount of money that would bribe me to lie about this.”
His mouth twitched back and forth and for just a second, I thought I saw a flicker of tears coming on. He was very stressed about the lawsuit. Not that I could blame him.
“If I find the book and bring it in to show you, will you authenticate it for me?”
Did he have the book? Or know where it was? That didn’t compute. If he had it, he could hand it over to Ms. Dumont and solve his problem with the lawsuit. I didn’t think that would be legal, but if he had it, that was the least of his legal problems. “Sure,” I lied, hoping he still thought I was an authority even though I wasn’t. “If you bring the book in, I will tell you what I think.” I omitted mentioning that he would still have to have it properly authenticated. After all, if he brought it in, he would be the number one suspect in Dolly’s death.
He started to leave but turned back. “Where do you think it is?”
Was he pretending he didn’t know? I didn’t want to say something out of turn that could interfere with the police investigation. I told him the truth. “Dolly was holding it the last time I saw it.”
“And where exactly was that?”
“Here. In the bookstore.”
“So it’s probably in her apartment . . .”
I had no idea why he drew that conclusion, but I didn’t bother correcting him. If he didn’t have it or know where it was, maybe he would find it when he put Dolly’s possessions up for sale. But that still wouldn’t solve his problems, because as far as I knew, it still rightly belonged to the estate of Dolly Cavanaugh.
The second he left, Veronica rushed over to me. “What did he want?”
“He wants me to lie about The Florist. Apparently, he was engaged to Maisie at one time.”
“No kidding? I don’t know why I’m surprised, he’s so dreamy!”
“Veronica, he’s a worm.”
“You’re exaggerating. I think he’s sweet. How can you resist those deep brown eyes?”
“Eww. How is it possible for you to be attracted to someone like him? He has no brain.”
“You’d be interested in him if you didn’t have cute Sergeant Jonquille hanging around.”
As if mere mention of his name made him materialize, Eric walked into the bookstore.
“I can assure you 100 percent that I wouldn’t be attracted to Percy if he were the last hope for mankind to survive.”
“Let’s hope earth doesn’t devolve to that point! So these are the famous flowers,” said Eric. “Did this Percy person send them?”
“I very seriously doubt it.” I leaned across the checkout desk for a kiss.
Eric pecked me on the lips. “Impressive arrangement.”
Veronica did not help at all by gushing over them like they were the Hope diamond. “Florrie just won’t tell us who her admirer is.”
If she hadn’t been on the other side of the checkout counter, I would have bumped her in the shin to shut her up. “They’re probably from some nice old lady whom I helped in the store and don’t even remember.”
“Like we’d believe that,” Veronica teased.
The two of them gazed at me as though waiting for me to confess. “I don’t know who they’re from, and it doesn’t matter. Someone did something nice for me, and I appreciate it.”
“Jack Miller.” Eric, who always took everything in stride, said Jack’s name glumly.
“Who’s that?” asked Veronica.
Eric glanced at me before turning to Veronica. “You don’t know him?”
Ohhh. This was getting me into so much trouble. Hastily, I said, “Veronica was busy at the time Jack came in. And he was here very briefly. The fact that I didn’t mention him to Veronica should prove to you how insignificant his presence was.”
There. That should do it. I smiled at them.
I could see on Eric’s face that he wasn’t buying it. “A detective from homicide should be by today to question the two of you. Nothing to be worried about. Just tell him what happened the way you told me.”
“Should we have an attorney present?” asked Veronica.
“Not unless you were involved in Dolly’s death.”
Veronica play-punched him.
“He may ask for a list of the members of the coloring club.”
Veronica nodded. “I’ll get that ready for him. Are they suspects?”
“Probably not. But they might know something. In the meantime, I’d better get back on my beat.” He winked at me when he said, “Stay away from that Jack Miller.”
But before he made it out the door, Goldblum jogged down the stairs. “Are you coming, Florrie? Hey! I didn’t know Sergeant Jonquille was here. Bring him up here with you.”
“What’s that about?” Veronica gazed up the stairs at Goldblum.
“I have no idea.”
My sister grinned at me. “You seem to be pleading that to a lot of things. Like the man who sent the flowers.”
“You can stop that now. But stay away from Percy. He’s trouble.”
“Bad boys can be fun sometimes.”
Where did she get such crazy notions?
“We’ll be upstairs.” Eric and I rushed up to meet with Zsazsa and Professor Goldblum.
When we walked into the room, they simultaneously said, “Close the door.”