A Hard Bargain (12 page)

I laughed. Prill’s far from starving. He lives in a beautiful house and collects Art Nouveau furniture and jewelry. “If it had been my money, I would’ve given you some. The money belongs to Kirby Willet.”

Prill made a dismissive sound. “Willet. The consummate loser. He can’t have amassed thousands of dollars. He must have robbed a bank.”

“If I could find him, I’d ask him. Do you have any idea where he could be?”

“Not I. I never associated with the likes of Kirby Willet.” He flipped back his cape and leaned one elbow on the counter. “My dear Jerry, whatever do you want with the
Farmer’s
Almanac
? You’re not going rural, are you? I just can’t see you in overalls and a straw hat.”

“A little research for one of my clients.”

“Ah, your paranormal nonsense. And Madeline, can’t you do something about the proliferation of pageants in these parts? Everywhere I look, a queen is springing up. Those wretched friends of yours! They must be stopped. What do you call them? Pageantitis? Pageantniks? Idiots, I say, idiots!”

As usual, Prill didn’t wait for a reply, but plowed on to the next subject. “I do, however, wish to hear of your latest exploits.”

“Can you help any of my cases?”

“Name them, and we shall see.”

“The Mystery of the Missing Umbrella.”

“I have no desire to track down someone’s misplaced parasol.”

“The Mystery of the Overdue Library Books.”

“Tantalizing, but no.”

“The only case left is the Mystery of the Missing Inventor, and you’ve already said you don’t know where Willet is.”

“Well, I don’t, my dear, but should I hear anything, I will alert you posthaste.”

“There’s the Mystery of the Haunted Bookstore,” Hayden said.

Prill rounded on him. “For heaven’s sake, don’t start that again! You’re cured, do you hear? No more ghosts! Do I have to come back there and smack you around the head and shoulders?”

Hayden held his ground. “No.”

“Then shut up.” He smiled at me. “Is there something I should know?”

“I’m investigating some strange noises here in the store,” I said.

“That would be the cries of long-suffering poets such as myself who wish to be displayed in the front window. What do you think it is, Hayden?”

“Jerry and I think it’s a poltergeist.”

Prill gave Jerry a scornful look. “What have I told you about leading him on? Do I have to smack you, as well?”

Like Hayden, Jerry wasn’t intimidated by Prill’s overbearing manner. “Prill, what do you know about Mantis Man?”

“A blatant attempt to frighten the feeble-minded.”

“Don’t look at me,” Hayden said.

“You’re the very one to look at. I’m surprised you aren’t cowering under your bed at the thought of some giant insect knocking at your door. This ridiculous movie should put an end to the mantis myth.”

“Do you know Josh Gaskins?” I asked. Prill was older than Twenty; I wasn’t sure when he’d been in high school.

“I’ve never met him, but I applaud him for working to his strengths. The movie will go straight to video, and we can go on about our lives.” He brushed his sleeves and readjusted his diamond tie clasp. “I merely stepped in to tell you of my success. I have spent enough time here amongst you.” He gave Hayden a warning glance. “Hayden.”

“It’s under control, I promise.”

“You need to quit this job and devote more time to your work. We’ve discussed this. I expect you to give the matter serious thought. Madeline, you look ravishing, as always. Georgia, my dear, and Jerry, farewell.”

Without waiting for an answer, he swept out.

Georgia shook her head. “A day without Prill—”

Hayden finished her sentence. “—is really, really quiet.”

Georgia picked up a stack of magazines from the counter. “So what is the real story about the money, Madeline? Did you really find thousands of dollars?”

“About ten thousand dollars.”

“I can’t imagine Kirby Willet having that amount of cash.”

“Maybe he sold one of his inventions.”

“But they never worked.”

“I guess we won’t know the answer until I find him,” I said.

She started toward the shelves and turned back. “Jerry, I put that ‘Music Man’ poster in the front window next to the one about the gospel sing at First Methodist.”

“Thank you.”

“How’s the show coming along?”

“Very well.”

“I was a little surprised to see that Donna Sanchez was in it. I didn’t know she could sing.”

“She’s doing a good job.”

“And you like playing the piano? You know, Light of Heaven Evangelical is looking for an organist, but I bet they’d take someone who plays piano.”

I nudged Jerry. “A job.”

“Thank you, Georgia,” he said. “I’ll check into that.”

We said good-by to Georgia and Hayden and went out. Jerry was shaking his head. “I’m not going to get tied down to playing for church every Sunday.”

“You could at least call them and see what they want.”

“Nope. I’m holding out for an executive position.”

“You may have to work your way up.”

We’d reached the car when an unwelcome voice called, “J!” and Rick Rialto came up the sidewalk.

“Whoo, glad I caught you,” he said. “Gotta talk to you about something. Excuse us, Mac.”

He pulled Jerry over by the shoe store and spoke in a low excited whisper. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but from the way Jerry brightened, I knew Rick had some scheme going. Then Jerry said, “Are you sure?” Rick grinned and nodded and whispered some more.

“I don’t know,” Jerry said. “I don’t think there’s enough money in Celosia to pull that off.”

Rick shrugged. “Won’t know till we try. Is it worth a shot?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’ll set things up. Talk to you later.”

Jerry came back to the car. When he saw my expression, he slowed his steps. “Just a little business with Rick.”

“A little illegal business.”

“Not exactly.”

“Jerry, it’s either illegal or it isn’t.”

“It’s nothing,” he said. “It won’t work here, anyway.”

I opened my door. “Whatever it is, it better not.”

He got in the passenger side. “You told me to get a job.”

“A job, not a con. If you don’t get a real job, then I don’t have to paint real pictures.”

He grinned. “Does that mean you’ll paint clown pictures?”

Despite being very annoyed with him, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “No.”

“Clown pictures on velvet? Dogs playing poker? Bug-eyed children clutching flowers?”

“Shut up.”

He gave me examples of bad art all the way to the theater.

“When are you going to be useful? What are your job prospects so far?”

He gazed up as if thinking hard. “Hmm, sheepherder? No. Health inspector? Too risky. Trapeze artist? Too dull. How about a possum farmer?”

I laughed. “Possum farmer?”

“You just round them up and keep them away from the major highways.”

“That would be perfect for you.”

We parked in the theater lot and got out into the sticky heat of early evening. It was a relief to step into the cool theater. The foyer walls were covered with framed photographs from past productions. I’d never paid too much attention to the photographs. Pictures of children remind me of Bill’s photos. He’d hung them all over our house as if to inspire me.

“What are you looking for?” Jerry asked.

“Kenna said I could take whatever I needed. Find some kids in cute costumes.”

“I’ll start over here.”

Jerry looked along the right wall. I took the left. I found a good picture of several children in animal costumes and one of some little girls all dressed as Dorothy from “The Wizard of Oz.” Jerry handed me a picture of a little boy dressed as Tom Sawyer and one of an older boy and girl in a production of “Our Town.”

“Yes, these are good,” I said. “I think one or two more ought to do it.”

On the back wall was a large framed set of plaques indicating donor contributions to the theater. Next to this was another framed document listing recipients of theater grants. A name caught my eye.

Kirby Willet.

Also listed was a Josh Gaskins. Gaskins had won the grant. Willet was runner-up.

“Jerry, look at this.”

He came over, and I pointed to the names.“Willet and Gaskins both tried out for the Samuel Baker Scholarship.”

“What’s it for?”

“We’ll have to ask Kenna or Evan.”

Evan was upstairs in his office. As we entered, he looked up and smiled. “Madeline, I was just thinking about you. We have finalized nearly all the details for the Miss Celosia Summertime Pageant. I’d love for you to look over them for us.”

“I’d be glad to,” I said, “if you’ll answer a question for me. Josh Gaskins won the Samuel Baker Scholarship. What’s that for?”

“We award that every year to the most promising young director. They submit a theater or film project. I believe Gaskins won when he was a senior in high school.”

“Over Kirby Willet.”

“Yes. As I recall, it was a very close vote.”

“Do you have copies of these projects they submitted?”

“They should be on file in the library. Does this have something to do with Willet’s disappearance?”

“I’m not sure. It may help, though.”

“Good.” He handed me a fat folder. “Here are the plans for the new pageant. I’d appreciate any and all suggestions. And Madeline, later on, would you mind coming and saying a few words to the girls? Just encourage them and maybe give them some helpful tips? It would mean a great deal to them and to me.”

I started to say no, but I couldn’t. Evan was back to his old self, confident and excited about a new pageant. I just couldn’t refuse to help.

“Maybe for just a few minutes, Evan.”

“Thank you so much.”

I thought Jerry and I could make a clean getaway, but when we came back downstairs, the Pageantoids were lurking in the foyer. They were bursting with news.

Cathy spoke first. “We saw your car. Have you been talking with Evan? Did he give you the information? I hope we have everything in order.”

I patted the folder. “I’m sure you haven’t missed a thing.”

They exchanged a look. “Well, we have another project we think is even more spectacular,” Mitch said.

“More spectacular than Miss Celosia Summertime?”

“What do you think about this? Miss Mantis!”

Somewhere behind me, Jerry choked on a laugh.

“It would be the very thing for Celosia!”

Cathy spread her hands wide, as if indicating open curtains. “Can’t you just see the opening number? We’ll have a huge backdrop of flowers. The girls could all be dressed as butterflies and other attractive insects.”

“Just the attractive insects,” I said.

“Oh, yes, no earwigs or anything like that.”

Jerry’s voice behind me said, “Watch out for insectivores.”

“Cathy,” I said, “this might not be the best idea. You have heard that a lot of people in town oppose anything with Mantis Man?”

“This will change their minds,” Cathy said. “The movie’s the best thing that could have happened for the pageant.”

Mitch agreed. “You should be in the movie, Madeline. Vivian Montrose only came in second in the Miss California Pageant.”

“Can we come out and watch the filming?” Cathy asked.

“They’ve finished except for a few more exterior shots.”

“We’d love to see the movie crew in action.”

“Yes, it might inspire us,” Mitch said.

Not that they needed any more encouragement. I started to say that would be all right when Cathy grasped my arm.

“You know there’s been another sighting.”

Now Jerry was interested. “Of Mantis Man?”

“Three people saw him last night. We heard them talking about it in that hamburger place.”

“Where and when?”

“Down by the covered bridge around midnight.”

I could almost see Jerry’s mind at work, planning a way to trap the mantis. “Okay, thanks,” he said. He didn’t say anything else until we were in the car. “Mac, if we could get a picture of this thing, or better yet, catch it, it would be the best
Galaxy
story ever.”

“You can stay out all night if you want to.”

“Don’t you want to come with me?”

“Jerry, it’s nothing. You know how these rumors get started and grow.”

“But what if it’s real? It could be worth a lot of money.”

“This wasn’t what I had in mind when I said get a job.”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t be a mantis catcher.”

I sighed and drove to the Celosia Public Library. We found Joan in the back, knee deep in books. Torn and bulging cardboard boxes sat on the tables and floor. Slippery stacks of magazines, dusty rolls of posters and maps, and ancient sets of encyclopedias filled the corner.

Joan laughed as she pulled an old sneaker out of a box. “People forget what they have in these boxes. They see books on top and haul the boxes over here without checking.”

“Looks like someone cleaned out their attic,” I said.

“Stuff for our used book sale,” she said.

Jerry grinned. “Have we got a collection for you.”

“Really?” she said.

“Val’s bat books. You want them?”

“Sure. If we can’t use them in the library, we’ll put them in the sale. We usually make a lot of money.” She wiped her hands on her jeans. “You have good news, I hope.”

Jerry bumped into a stack of paperbacks and managed to catch them before they crashed. “Hope these weren’t in any sort of order.”

“Just set them on the floor.”

I helped Jerry find a space to put the paperbacks. “I haven’t tracked down any more books, Joan. I’d like to see the student films, the ones that won the Baker Scholarship. Can they be checked out?”

“Yes. Which ones?”

“The ones Josh Gaskins and Kirby Willet submitted.”

“All right. I’ll be just a moment.”

Jerry nudged me. “Who’s the dragon?”

His gaze indicated Bernice Coleman, who radiated hostility from her computer station. “That’s Bernice. She thinks I’m up to no good.”

“Wonder how she stands on the Mantis Man issue?”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“Okay.”

He strolled over to the main desk.

Joan returned with two videotapes. “Here you are. They’ll need to be back in two days.”