Dead to Begin With. Vivian Conroy
to the challenge.
Claire continued, “Danning printed false allegations before, you know, forcing Gwenda Gill out of business.”
Vicky frowned. “Gwenda Gill? The lady who ran the beauty parlor on Main Street? But… You wrote to me that she lost customers because of another beauty center or spa thing opening nearby.”
“Yes, that’s right. It has a Greek name that I can’t pronounce. It took away all Gwenda’s customers, in just a few months. But the allegations in the Gazette were the final blow. Saying something like her revitalizing spray really being tap water.”
“That’s a serious allegation. I mean, if it were true, it would amount to product doctoring. Defrauding her customers who believed they were buying a quality product.”
Claire nodded. “It ruined Gwenda’s reputation. People even came to the parlor with half-used bottles asking for their money back. And someone wrote ‘cheat’ on her window. All because of that article in the Gazette based on an anonymous source.” Claire grimaced. “It showed off Danning’s character to perfection. He’s a predator.”
Vicky stared ahead. This news was a different kind of blow. She planned on renting the former beauty parlor. It seemed like a perfect place for her store concept. But if there had been some sort of campaign to ruin the parlor and its owner—allegations of fraud, threats left on the window—she might be the next target. That only made her more nervous about her business plans.
To steer conversation away from the unfortunate Gwenda Gill, Vicky glanced at her mother. “How does Sheriff Perkins feel now that Michael is back in town pursuing the old case? He never could accept he hadn’t solved it.”
Claire sighed. “Sure, it still stung, he did mention that once in a while, but he had to accept it. No officer can ever solve all of his cases, right? And this is but a small town. He had never dealt with something so big before, nor did he have to afterward. I doubt he will let Danning look at his old files. Diane’s appearance won’t change that.”
“What old files?” Vicky pressed. Her reporter blood was positively churning now.
“On the disappearance case of course.” Claire sighed in impatience. “Seems that when Perkins retired as sheriff, he took some old cases with him. Things that were still puzzling him, or frustrating him—who can tell? Keeps them in his barn. For his own personal use of course, not to have people snooping around in them. Least of all Michael Danning, the prime suspect at the time.” Claire shook her head.
Vicky queried, “How do you mean ‘when he retired’? Perkins is no longer sheriff? You didn’t tell me that either.”
“Well, our new sheriff is not competent. That’s all I’m going to say about it.” Claire gave a determined nod. “Hopefully he’ll shoot himself in the leg soon enough and he will be forced to step down. End of discussion.”
Vicky’s mind was scrambling to make sense of it all. A new sheriff, Michael in charge of the local paper, running a story about Diane and the old disappearance case.
Just as she was back, full of plans and hopes, this whole thing had resurfaced, filling her head with questions and feelings she didn’t want to feel. Back then Celine had vanished without a trace. Some people wanted to believe it had been the work of an outsider, the mystery man who had supposedly been dating Celine. But what if the perpetrator had been a local? What if he or she was still living here?
Had Vicky actually returned to a town where a murderer lived among them, smiling at people, acting like a normal person? While in reality…
What if Michael suspected that and had started this campaign with Diane to…
Smoke out this killer of old?
That could be pretty risky.
They had to be desperate to know the truth. And bring this person to justice.
Claire kept her eyes on Vicky as she asked, “You’re not going to work for Michael Danning, are you?”
Vicky saw real anxiety in her mother’s eyes—deep concern. Had Claire drawn the same conclusion as she herself had, about the dangers involved in rekindling the old case?
Was she worried Vicky would somehow end up entangled in the investigation and run a risk of getting hurt?Feeling a little milder about her mother’s never-ending meddling, Vicky reached out and squeezed her mother’s hand. “No, not at all. If you have to know the truth, I’m meeting Everett to discuss a special plan. I want to open a store, to make myself a living.”
She cringed in expectation of an earful about the financial risks, but the mention of Everett cheered Claire up at once. She smiled and clutched the dogs’ leashes tighter. “Wonderful. You must ask Everett to come to dinner later this week.”
Vicky’s jaw dropped that her mother wasn’t fuming about the disasters looming when one wanted to open a store in Glen Cove. Quickly she said, “Sure, I’ll ask him, but I doubt that he has the time for it.”
“He needs a decent meal once in a while,” Claire said. “Since his mother died, I doubt he cooks for himself. Must all be microwave food.” She made a face. “It’s just the neighborly thing to invite him over.”
Of course. Vicky suppressed a cynical laugh. Claire would study them all during dinner to see if sparks flew. She had always liked Everett Baker because he was a chess champion like Vicky’s dad had been and because his real estate business was expanding all the time. Such a man could support a family, unlike the drifter type that Michael Danning was supposed to be in her mother’s opinion.
Vicky would rather avoid Everett’s lectures about his latest sales, but Claire would be excited about the dinner and might not mind the whole store idea so much. Maybe Vicky could even ask Everett to put in a good word for her. If he told Claire that a new store concept was just what Glen Cove needed, Claire would believe him right away. It would make things much easier.
Deep in thought Vicky bumped into a blackboard on the sidewalk. It advertised honey, wax candles and a special Keep the Bees Buzzzy bread.
“Our new baker is also a beekeeper,” Claire explained. “The bread is sold to support his hobby. I have no idea if anybody ever buys it. Every store in this town is struggling, you know.”
She cast Vicky a sharp look. “Especially in the winter months when the tourists aren’t showing themselves here. Lots of people have started a new initiative during the summer and things looked bright, only to find they couldn’t make it through November. I don’t want you to make a fool of yourself.”
“The Joneses are still here,” Vicky said in defense, nodding at the general store on the other side of the street.
“Of course they are. All the locals feel obliged to buy from them. They’re an institution around here. I’m talking about newcomers. Like Gwenda and her beauty parlor.”
Vicky clenched her jaw. With Gwenda’s bankruptcy fresh in people’s minds, the scrutiny would be intense. Was she entirely sure that she wanted to try this? It would be terrible to see it go awry in front of all the people who knew her.
In front of Michael Danning even.
Claire said, “Gwenda still does her dog shows, you know. I wonder if that makes her money. She’s always complaining her no good ex-husband is paying her nothing for alimony. Mortimer is a handyman so I suppose he can’t afford much. But Gwenda keeps insisting he has some secret stash of money somewhere. Now I’m asking you: where would he have got money? I do hear he overcharges but that’s hardly a crime. People should negotiate before they accept a price, right?”
Vicky nodded vaguely, looking ahead to where the parlor had sat. The parking spaces on the other side of the street were ideal for customers. It really was a first-rate location.
Which probably came at a matching price, and Everett Baker would squeeze her for every dime he could get.
Vicky looked out for the tall, slightly stooping