Sitting on a Fortune

by Becki Willis

  “Right. Here, you sign it and add your phone number. After I sign, I’ll take a picture, so I’ll have it on digital file.”

  Satisfied with her suggestion, Monte took the pen into his chubby fingers and carefully wrote his name.

  “Don’t forget to add a number so I can call you when I have news,” Madison reminded him.

  After doing so, Monte pushed to his feet. “I hope you find him soon.”

  “Me, too.”

  Looking more hopeful than when he first came in, Monte shook both their hands and promised, “I’ll leave the last three dollars here with Miss Genny, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Didn’t I mention the cash discount? Your bill is completely covered, just as I wrote on that receipt. There’s also a money-back guarantee. If you find the dog before I do, I’ll refund your money. Fair enough?”

  A hint of a smile touched his lips, the first she had seen since his solemn arrival. “Fair enough.”

  Once the boy was gone, Granny Bert proudly beamed across the table at her granddaughter. “Well done. You treated him with dignity and respect, acting as if his money was as important as anyone else’s.”

  “I remember receiving similar treatment about a year ago. Someone offered to sell me a house that was ridiculously out of my price range but made it sound perfectly legit, right down to the one-hundred-dollar monthly installments.”

  “That sale was legit! I sold you the Big House fair and square.”

  “There was nothing fair about selling me a historical mansion for the paltry sum of five thousand dollars, and you know it. But you made me feel like I was pulling my own weight and actually providing for my family, and for that, I will be eternally grateful.”

  “You did provide for your family. You own a gorgeous home you can all be proud of.”

  “You provided the house, and we all know it. But it was a good lesson, and one I try to emulate. Never treat other people as being lesser, just because they have less money than someone else.”

  “That’s the kind of lesson that is invaluable,” Granny Bert reminded her. She wasn’t prone to flowery speeches of endearment, but she made an exception as she lifted her tea glass in salute. “And one you learned well. You do me proud, girl.”

  Though few and far between, praise like that from her grandmother always made her eyes leak.

  Three

  After leaving the café, Madison took the long route home. Normally, it was a three-minute drive. All she had to do was cross the railroad track that separated the towns of Naomi and Juliet, go two blocks, and pull into her driveway on the prominent corner lot of Second and Main.

  Instead, she turned right out of the parking lot and drove a handful of blocks through Naomi to get to the town’s outskirts. Taking Sawyer Road out of town, she was surprised to see a new house going up. Last year, the same plot of land was home to a watermelon patch. Since she seldom walked Glitter Thompson’s dogs these days, she had no reason to come out this way.

  Thinking of the former Vegas showgirl and her beloved poodles, Madison wondered why she never called anymore. Was she no longer traveling, or did she think Madison would turn down such a meager job, now that In a Pinch was more established? Madison made a mental note to drop a few lines to the other woman, perhaps with a coupon. Though the job never paid more than a few dollars, those were dollars she had depended on when first coming back to The Sisters. Despite her new title as Mrs. Brash deCordova, Madison wasn’t too good now to remember the people who had helped her when she was down.

  None of her first jobs had been glamorous, but they had been important. Driving Leroy Huddleston back and forth to the doctor, walking dogs, running errands for Miss Sybil, and a handful of other small jobs had kept gas in the car and service for the cell phones. She slowly worked her way up to bigger and better-paying jobs, most at locally owned businesses. On the police chief’s recommendation, she had landed a recurring gig with a Houston-based private investigator who now kept her on a small retainer.

  In a Pinch Professional Services would never show up in Forbes Magazine, but it was finally solvent, thanks in large part to the people who hired her for the more ‘interesting’ jobs. Jobs like proving a man innocent of murder, proving the fidelity of a spouse, locating a stolen item, and similar cases best suited for a private detective. Those bigger jobs had helped her get back on her feet, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t squeeze in a few entry-level jobs now and then.

  That was exactly why she was out here now, searching for a boy’s lost dog, down a road that brought back unpleasant memories of illegal cockfights and a race for her life through a darkened pasture. Not all jobs were about money.

  After a quick search on the internet, Madison easily located Monte Applegate’s house. The search had taken just seconds, a scary reminder of how much information was out there for public consumption, often pinpointed on a map.

  She noted the chain-link fence with the standard drop-latch closing. She couldn’t see the entire backyard, but what she could see was in good repair. No gaping holes to facilitate a curious dog’s escape.

  Lamont Andrew’s humble abode was little over a mile down the road, an easy jaunt for a pup with an adventurous spirit. With no other cars on the road, Madison rolled to a stop for visual perusal. The older frame home had seen better years, but the pier and beam foundation looked solid, and the roof appeared in good condition. Fifties-era pink paint was chipped and fading, a perfect match for once-black doors and shutters in similar condition. A newly constructed deck extended from the back of the house, where Madison caught a glimpse of a huge stainless-steel grill and a colorful umbrella-topped picnic table. An abundance of glass and chrome winked in the bright Texas sun. The deck and its accessories were easily worth more than the large old shed at the back of the property, but she couldn’t help but notice the thick chain and padlock wrapped around its doors.

  Odd, that a two-thousand-dollar grill sat in plain sight, but an old shed was locked up tight.

  “Maybe that’s where he keeps his extra stock,” Madison mused aloud. “Not sure I would trust that shed in a strong wind, but it looks safe from trespassers. The question is, what would a dog find so intriguing about this place?”

  She saw no obvious signs of the owner having a pet, but a girlfriend for Pup was always a possibility. Madison scribbled herself a note.

  “If I were a puppy,” she continued to think aloud, “I might want to explore the crawl space under the house. Or maybe the shed. As a person—and a rather squeamish one at that—the thought of spiders and snakes and a random skunk or two doesn’t appeal to me in the least, but maybe it’s just the human coming out in me. Pup, no doubt, finds all of that fascinating.”

  She peered around for a few more moments, noting the remote location of the house. She saw no other houses in sight, and two sides of the property backed up to a high-game fence. Spotting a herd of white-tail deer on the other side of the fence, including two bucks with impressive racks of horns, she knew the owner of the game ranch wouldn’t allow his fence to fall in disrepair, not with the high price of genetic breeding and commercial hunts.

  No, Pup wasn’t slipping under the fence to run with the deer, and he wasn’t cutting through the Andrews property on his way to the neighbors’. Something here held his interest.

  “Could be a rabbit,” she reasoned.

  She lingered for another moment before deciding to turn around and head back to town. A quick glance at her watch told her that if she hurried, she could still make The Gold and Silver Exchange before closing.

  Madison was ashamed to admit it, but this was the first time she had been inside the establishment. Particularly after last year’s fiasco with the Community Angel Tree, when many of the presents were stolen under her watch, she knew the importance of shopping local. The generous merchants of both towns had rallied to replace the gifts, often with bigger and better offerings. Eager to repay their gesture, Madison now made a point to shop local whenever she cou
ld.

  True, she planned to go to Bryan-College Station this weekend, but the girls needed craft paints and those little pom-pom doodads for one of their cheerleading projects. Her Uncle Jubal’s Five and Dime did a fair job of keeping up with the times, but they wanted a certain paint they could only find at Hobby Lobby. The sly duo had also wrangled the promise of a new shirt out of her, and the selections here in The Sisters were limited. The Vintage Closet in Naomi and Good as New in Juliet offered clothing in a variety of styles and sizes, but it was anyone’s guess what the current selection might be, as all were secondhand. The florist and the local gift shop both carried a few cute t-shirts, and Hadley’s Feed Store carried a decent selection of western wear, including some from the Sticker Pierce line. But to find the best selection and the best price, the girls insisted they needed to go to the larger city.

  Since none of the local stores carried printer ink or her favorite scent of air freshener, Madison needed to run by one of the chain discount stores. While she was there, she knew she would stock up on household staples. Even though The Sisters had a small grocery store on either side of the tracks, when feeding a walking and talking stomach like sixteen-year-old Blake, she needed to buy in quantity. The larger supermarkets were always her best option for feeding her son.

  Even to her ears, they sounded like excuses. The idea of shopping local was noble, even when it didn’t always make sense. Yet whenever possible, she did stop in at a different store in the community, if for no other reason than to show her support.

  This, however, was one business she had missed.

  In truth, it wasn’t what she had expected. It looked more like a pawnshop. Rows of glass cases lined the walls, filled with jewelry, coins, and shiny baubles displayed beneath brilliant lighting. A few random items were on display in the middle of the room, everything from musical instruments and small electronics to a motorized scooter and an iron bistro set. A slight haze hung in the air, emitted from a large incense burner featuring an intricate golden design and displayed in a prominent location.

  Not a fan of patchouli, Madison immediately sneezed.

  “Oh, hello. I didn’t hear the bell when you came in,” the man behind the counter apologized. “May I help you with something?”

  “Just browsing. You’re still open, aren’t you?”

  “For a pretty lady, the store never closes,” he assured her with a wide smile.

  Madison bit back a smile. At best, “Ol’ Man Andrews” was all of thirty-five. She knew it was the owner from her Granny Bert’s description. Lamont Andrews was a towering six feet, seven inches tall, with broad shoulders and long legs, both of which had earned him a basketball scholarship to Howard University. That may have been over a decade ago, but he still looked every bit the athlete, even in business attire. She didn’t see a single gray hair amid the dark, making her wonder why Monte referred to him as ‘Old Man Andrews.’

  “I won’t stay long,” she promised.

  “Take your time. I’m running reports, so I’ll be here for a while.”

  “Still, I’ll try not to keep you.”

  “I love numbers,” he assured her. “I can get lost in them for hours.”

  Madison glanced around. “I see you offer much more than just precious metal.”

  He flashed her another bright smile. “Diversifying is the key to staying in business, particularly in a small town.”

  A sparkling, circular item caught her eye from within one of the cases. “Is that a dog collar? With jewels?”

  The smile turned slightly apologetic. “What can I say? Some people adore their pets.”

  It gave her the opening she needed. “What about you? Don’t you have a dog at home who’d like to wear this gorgeous collar?”

  “Even if I did,” he hooted, “I wouldn’t trust it to carry a thousand dollars’ worth of jewels around its neck!”

  Madison stole a peek at the price tag, which was more than twice that amount. Okay, so Lamont Andrews was obviously a businessman. He was here to make money, after all.

  “I agree. At least, not without a tracker and a hefty insurance policy.” Her expression was skeptical.

  “No tracker, I’m afraid. And the insurance policy is the buyer’s prerogative.”

  “So that price is for the collar, itself?”

  “Certified cubic zirconia,” he assured her, “and genuine sapphires and rubies. A very exquisite piece, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Oh, it’s gorgeous, but I don’t even have a dog. And I doubt my nephew would want that for his precious Pup. I can’t really see that around the neck of a long-haired brown and white dog that’s part terrier, part Bassett hound, can you?” She watched for a reaction to the description of Monte’s dog.

  It was brief, but a flash of irritation crossed his face.

  “Probably not,” he agreed.

  Madison affected a sad face. “Apparently, I’m too late, anyway. I think his dog ran away or was run over. He’s been missing for days,” she said, adding a worried fret to her voice.

  She thought he muttered ‘good riddance’ beneath his breath, but he looked sympathetic. “That’s too bad,” he murmured. “In that case, I take it you don’t need me to unlock the display?”

  “Not yet. But if the dog comes back—and if I win the lottery—I may change my mind.”

  “No problem. Can I assist you with something else?”

  She tried to think of another line of questioning, something that would help explain Pup’s fascination with his property. She tried to think of what a gold and silver exchange and a curious dog might have in common.

  “Uhm, I don’t suppose you sell live traps, do you?” The metal was shiny, much like coins and jewels, and the first thing to pop into her mind.

  “Excuse me?” The look on his face was priceless, but she had already begun. Too late to back out now.

  “You know, for catching pesky critters like rabbits, or possums, or… or mice.”

  “You want a live trap to catch mice?” Clearly, he thought she had an intelligence threshold. A very low one.

  “Maybe not mice,” she corrected, scrambling to say something that made sense. “Something’s been getting into my garden, and I don’t want to kill it. I just want to scare it away. Or catch it, so that my son can take it down a country road and release it. That’s why people live in the country, right? To enjoy the wildlife and the furry critters.”

  “That’s not why I live in the country,” he told her, his expression only slightly less than horrified by her assumptions. “I don’t like furry critters.”

  “Oh. So, you don’t have a lot of rabbits or possums or gophers out where you live?”

  “Not really.”

  Madison was clearly striking out. No dog, no infestation of furry critters, nothing of apparent interest to lure a dog a mile down the road. Unless…

  “I guess your wife and children are glad about that.”

  Lamont shook his head. “No wife. No kids.” He dropped his head down and peered at her practically through his eyebrows. “You flirting with me? Because if you are—”

  “I’m not!” she cried, fully aghast.

  “No offense, but I’m just not into white chicks. Especially ones that are newly married to the chief of police.”

  “You—You know who I am?”

  “Lady, everyone knows who you are. If they happened to miss your reality TV show last year, there was that business at your wedding, where your famous football player husband’s All-Pro buddy was accused of killing one of your guests. And then there was the thing with your husband without his shirt o—”

  Mortified, Madison held up her hand to stop him. She hardly needed a reminder of recent events.

  Before she could apologize, he asked, “Do you want to tell me what this is really about?”

  “My… nephew’s dog.” Monte Applegate may have been just a child, but he was still her client, and she valued her confidentiality policy. “It really is missing, and he thi
nks you may have had something to do with it.”

  “Are you talking about that chubby little redhead kid that keeps bugging me?”

  “Probably.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That’s probably what your nephew looks like? You don’t even know?”

  “I mean he’s probably been bugging you. He’s really attached to his dog.”

  “I’ll tell you the same thing I told the kid’s father. I’ve seen the dog a time or two, and I always run it off.” An unpleasant look crossed his face. Madison would best describe it as chilling. He leaned across the glass case to make certain she heard his threat.

  “I don’t have a dog, I don’t want a dog, I don’t even like a dog. And the next time I catch it digging up my property, I’m either calling the law or getting out my shotgun. So, tell your nephew or whoever the kid is to keep his furry little mutt off my property, or I’ll take care of it myself, once and for all.” He stood up to his full height, towering over her with his menacing glare. “And by the way,” he snapped. “We’re. Closed.”

  Madison stormed from the store, vowing to never darken its door again. She remembered, now, what else Granny Bert had said about Lamont Andrews. He was kicked out of the basketball program for fighting with another player. He was known to have a violent temper, and there was a rumor he had done jail time, but no one could confirm that fact. Upon his return to The Sisters several years later, he became manager of The Gold and Silver Exchange and was in the process of buying it before Gerald Adams ever went to prison. Maturity, Granny Bert claimed, seemed to have mellowed him.

  After today, Madison begged to differ.

  Four

  The next afternoon, Madison called her grandmother outside to her garage. With a rolling hand gesture, she made the presentation. “I present to you—” stepping aside, she revealed the item behind her “—the chair.”

  Granny Bert examined the red throne with a critical eye. Bending at the waist, she stepped in to get a closer view. She circled the antique twice, viewing it from all angles. Kicked at the ornate wooden legs. Rattled the curved back with a veined hand, listening for a telltale creak. Trailed a finger over the faded velvet fabric.