by Lyn Key
Peggy Sue made it a business rule to never let the customer leave the Brontë Bookshop without at least a half-dozen titles stuffed in their tote bag. If they didn’t come in with a tote bag, she tried to sell them one displaying the attractive Brontë Bookshop logo, a singing cardinal (state bird) perched on a flowering dogwood branch (state tree).
When Peggy Sue and Hope had been at the stage to set up the new bookshop’s furnishings, Travis suggested they use discarded milk crates stacked in tall columns in which to display their used books for sale. He knew a junk dealer through his job that had a surplus of the milk crates and would let them go for a song. However, Peggy Sue wasn’t thrilled with the Brontë Bookshop having the thrown-together look of a dorm room. After she gave Travis’ proposal to Hope, both partners agreed to nix using the milk crates to outfit the bookshop.
Hope caught a rumor while picking up dinner at the pizzeria about the high school library doing a total makeover and wanting to get rid of the old wooden bookshelves. She offered to take them off the high school librarian’s hands if the price was right as in free. The librarian gladly accepted Hope’s offer with the stipulation she had the responsibility to haul away the old wooden bookshelves from the back of the high school.
Hope rounded up Stacey and Peggy Sue who browbeat Travis and a couple of her brawny cousins into loading the old wooden bookshelves on the back of a borrowed flatbed truck. It went like clockwork, and they finished the task before the day ended. The Brontë Bookshop was that much closer to its grand opening day. They’d rested at the same picnic table in the town park where Hope and Stacey now sat eating their lunch.
“Murders aren’t supposed to occur in the small towns like ours,” Stacey said before she bit into her fake peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich. Her school had banned the use of real peanut butter since it’s one of the most common food allergies among the students. “Sweet Springs has turned into a macabre place.” She relished letting her tongue roll over the lyrical French word: macabre.
“Macabre or not, it happened, so we have no choice but to deal with the fallout coming from it,” Hope said. She’d made and packed both of their sandwiches and took the bread loaf heels since the finicky Stacey didn’t like them. “Are the kids at school still talking about the bookshop murder?”
“No, Mom, they’re discussing the Pythagorean Theorem when they’re not debating the profound meaning of life.” Stacey rolled her eyes in an exaggerated mannerism only the cheeky teenagers are able to nail. “Yes, the bookshop murder obsesses the kids who can’t seem to talk about it enough.”
“You must’ve achieved rock star status since your mother found the murder victim.”
“The boys like to ask me their questions. I don’t say much, just nod and smile at them. Even the star quarterback who’s a senior called me by my first name, and I almost fainted from blushing so hard.”
“I’d be willing to bet your envious girlfriends wish they had the same problem with the boys.”
Stacey smirked. “A few of them are a little jealous.” Then her smirk disappeared just as fast. “It’s creepy to be popular because your mother found a dead body in her bookshop.”
Hope nodded. “I can see how that might be the case. But take heart because it’ll soon blow over, and things will return to normal, and life will be sane once again on Bobwhite Court.”
“I can’t wait until it does. Then I’ll be boring Stace Jones again.” She twirled her index finger in the air as a “whoopee” gesture.
“Boring isn’t always so bad. Did you turn in your history paper to Mr. Stanhope?”
Stacey nodded she had.
“Did you get his pre-approval of the witch topic before you wrote it?”
“No, I forgot to ask him if it was okay or not.”
“How did he react to the controversial topic you selected?”
“He took one look at it, shrieked like a madman, and tore out what’s left of his hair.”
“Just like I suspected he’d do.”
“Actually, Mr. Stanhope had no reaction that I could see.”
“Please tell me you didn’t put in the hokum Nozy Cat gave us about our forbearers being the Salem Village witches.”
Stacey nodded. “It was the meaty part of my paper, so how could I leave it out?”
Hope sat there stunned.
“That was okay, right, Mom?” Stacey said, acting all innocent and prim in her lavender blouse, charm bracelet, and lip gloss (worn over Hope’s disapproval).
“Did you write Peggy Sue is a modern witch?” Hope asked while she cringed.
“Of course but I wrote how Peggy Sue is more accepting and open-minded about it than you are.”
“Stace, we are not twenty-first century witches. Did you mention Nozy Cat?”
“I had to cite my primary sources in the bibliography, and he was the one I interviewed for writing my paper.”
“By now, I can tell you’re only kidding me.”
Stacey batted her curly eyelashes. “Do you think so, Mom? For the most part, I am pulling your leg.”
“We’ll keep both of our fingers crossed your history paper will actually dazzle Mr. Stanhope enough to give you a B or even A.”
“I’ll be thrilled to nail a C. I don’t want to be seen as too smart, or my friends will think of me as a geek or nerd.”
“Their seeing you as a big dummy is cooler, and it’ll look impressive on your résumé when you move out of the house and get a job.”
“I’m only fifteen so don’t be pushing me out the door just yet.”
“Honey, you can stay for as long as you like, but you’ll have to either work or go to college full-time after you graduate from high school.”
“And here all I aspired to do was become a couch potato so I could sit and play on the internet all day.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble. Now finish your lunch. We don’t want you to be late for school, and I can’t wait to get back to the bookshop and see what new, exciting things Peggy Sue and Nozy Cat have got in store for me.”
“Do you think J.D. would like Nozy Cat if he were here with us?”
“J.D. is the one who named Nozy Cat before we got married and had you. The real Nozy Cat came later, but I already had his name picked out, thanks to J.D.”
“Sounds like a story. What happened?”
“I named my first cats after the characters from Wuthering Heights, so I was running out of names to use. I knew J.D. was clever with making up pet names like for his dog Hieronymus.”
“We keep the pictures of him posing with Hieronymus in the family photo album.”
“They’re among my favorite snapshots taken of J.D.—he looks so young and happy.” Hope paused to savor the poignant memory for a heartbeat. “I miss him so much. Anyway, I asked him one day to suggest a name for my next cat I’d be getting. He said cats are curious animals while they’re also cuddly. Riffing on that idea, he thought of Nozy Cat because it rhymes with cozy, and it uses the word nosy, only he spelled it with a zee instead of an es. J.D.’s name captivated me, so I suggested it when you picked out our Nozy Cat at the animal rescue shelter.”
“Nozy Cat is a grand name. Maybe the pace will slow down later, and you can tell me some more J.D. stories.”
“Nothing would bring me greater pleasure, but things are going a little nuts right now.”
“Nozy Cat told me solving the mystery will be a can of sardines, which his way of saying a piece of cake.”
“How did our talkative feline arrive at this amazing conclusion? It’s been anything but a can of sardines, so far. Just this morning Sergeant Trogg returned to the bookshop to growl again at Peggy Sue and me.”
“Nozy Cat said he doesn’t like or trust Sergeant Trogg who reminds him of an evil animal control officer.”
“There’s no love lost between them. Nozy Cat has made that clear from the get-go. I can’t say I blame him either. Sergeant Trogg has all the congeniality of a sabre-toothed tiger.”
“Even if, he’s n
o match for the likes of Peggy Sue and you, not to mention Nozy Cat.”
As Hope enjoyed smelling the freshly mowed grass, she took in the inviting cool shade of the umbrella-shaped chinaberry trees. It’d be a treat to kick off her sneakers and stroll barefoot as Stacey had threatened to do at school. Nevertheless, Hope would have to delay any leisure such as walking barefoot in the town park.
“We’ll never know another moment’s peace until Hugo’s murder mystery is solved, and the police put his killer behind bars,” Hope said.
“Maybe you should close the Brontë Bookshop and free up your time to work on it full time,” Stacey said. “What difference will it make in the big scheme of things if you don’t make any book sales for two or three days?”
“I’ll run your idea by Peggy Sue and see how she feels. She’s as antsy as we are to wrap up things.”
“Be careful of Sergeant Trogg. If I recall correctly from my science class, the sabre-toothed tigers were man-eaters.”
“You just said he’s no match for us.”
“When you stick together, yes, but what if he catches you alone without your sidekicks?” Stacey asked.
“Peggy Sue and I do everything as partners, and we’ll be sure to have Nozy Cat along for good measure,” Hope replied.
Chapter 14
Hope returned from lunch to the Brontë Bookshop and discovered, much to her pleasant surprise, Peggy Sue had found a burst of energy and finished processing the used books packed away in the boxes. She’d set out the books worth placing on the sales shelves and recycled the others. Before Hope could feel too guilty, Peggy Sue said what they should do next.
“I phoned Mrs. Spangler and told her who we are,” Peggy Sue said. “She’s agreed to meet us at her place early this afternoon when things are slow here.”
“How is she holding up?” Hope asked.
“She’s a tough old gal, but I know she’s got to be hurting on the inside.”
“Was Hugo close to his mom?”
“They stayed in regular touch, although she said he kept his personal life fairly private, and he didn’t go into his breakup with Cammie.”
Hope wasn’t sure about doing what Peggy Sue had in mind. “I found his dead body and reported it to the police. Mrs. Spangler must wonder why you contacted her and want to discuss her son’s murder with her.”
We don’t have a choice, Hope.
Hope looked at Nozy Cat. “We always have a choice we can make.”
Not this time, we don’t. Our options are limited to this one. Peggy Sue and I discussed it at length before you returned from lunch.
Peggy Sue nodded. “The way I look at it is we have to be willing to take a few calculated risks. We realize going in our visit with Mrs. Spangler might not be a friendly or productive one. We’ll be respectful of her grief. At the same time, we also want to learn any information she knows that may help us identify who took Hugo’s life.”
Hope gave a resigned shrug. “Are we going together to see her?”
That’s how we roll now.
***
Mrs. Spangler lived in a tidy rustic cottage featuring shamrock green shingles and a brick-red tin roof. She’d had the shutters and doors painted crisp white to offset the shamrock green shingles. She’d been a widow for going on a decade, but the manicured grass and trimmed azalea hedges demonstrated she still kept up with the yard work. The purple martin house suggested she was a birdwatcher.
Hope flipped on her signal and turned into Mrs. Spangler’s short paved driveway. She resided a hop, skip, and jump outside the town limits. Hope knew they’d never seen Mrs. Spangler darken their doorway even though they sold the cozy mysteries appealing to women readers, including Hope, Peggy Sue, and even young Stacey.
I notice the dreaded Beware of Dog sign staked by the porch steps. I’d better sharpen my claws on the back of the seat and prepare to do battle.
“No tiffs will break out between the cat and dog,” Peggy Sue said. “We come in peace to pick Mrs. Spangler’s brain but in a nice way.”
Hey, if Fido even so much as gives me a dirty look, then it’s go time because I don’t take any guff off a dog, I don’t care how big and bad he is.
Hope looked at Peggy Sue.
“I knew I should’ve taken the female cat from the animal rescue shelter,” Hope said. “The lady told me they act nicer and mellower than the tomcats. It’s all Stacey’s fault. She swooned over Nozy Cat the instant she set eyes on him, so I just went along with her and look what it has brought me.”
“I can tell you’re only joshing me,” Peggy Sue said. “You’d never stop crying if anything should happen to Nozy Cat. You’re both nuts about each other.”
I couldn’t have put it more eloquently. Just the same, you’d better go in first and let me know if the coast is clear of canines. There’s no reason to stir up any trouble if we can avoid it.
“Is Mrs. Spangler at home?” Hope asked. “I don’t see her car parked in the driveway or out on the streetside.”
“She said she doesn’t like to drive anymore,” Peggy Sue replied. “She uses taxis and rides from her neighbors and church friends if her feet can’t get her where she wants to go.”
“Did Hugo grow up here?” Hope asked. “The cottage seems small for raising a family in it.”
“The Spanglers operated a family dairy farm before Mr. Spangler died in a work accident while he was out in the fields making silage.”
“I’d forgotten the tragic story.”
“Mrs. Spangler decided she’d had enough of the agriculture life and sold the dairy farm. She bought this cottage as a fixer upper.”
I like what she’s done with the place except for bringing in the dog.
They heard a fingernail tapping on the glass window and looked at the sixtyish lady with silvery pin curls. She stood tall and angular with sinewy muscles hardened by her long years of toil at running a dairy farm. Her garb was clean denim jeans and a faded blue, short-sleeved blouse. She smiled in a congenial way, but she had a sharp-featured face that served notice she didn’t suffer fools gladly. Hope thought they’d get along great with Mrs. Spangler.
Hope put down her car window. “Are you Mrs. Spangler?” she asked.
“Just call me Shirley, please,” Mrs. Spangler replied. “Mrs. Spangler is still my late mother-in-law. You must be Hope Jones and Peggy Sue Roswell. I know I’ve seen your faces while I shopped on Main Street.”
“I’m Hope and she’s Peggy Sue who spoke to you on the phone. We run the bookshop you’ve probably seen, Shirley.”
“Yes, and sooner than later I aim to visit it,” Mrs. Spangler said. “Now here you are with your tuxie cat in tow.”
“Is your dog cat-friendly?” Hope asked.
Mrs. Spangler laughed. “Just between us and the purple martins, there is no dog. I put up the Beware of Dog sign to deter the local burglars.”
“I expect a local burglar would have to get up pretty early in the morning to put one over on Shirley Spangler,” Hope said.
“You know it, too,” Mrs. Spangler said. “Who’s your cat?”
“Shirley, I’d like for you to meet Nozy Cat,” Hope said. “He’s so named for his curious bent of mind when he’s not snoring away at the bookshop.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Nozy Cat,” Mrs. Spangler said.
Charmed, I’m sure.
Hope frowned at him.
What? That’s how they always say it in the old movies.
Mrs. Spangler winked at Hope and Peggy Sue. “This handsome devil is a sassy handful, isn’t he? I took care of the barn cats, and I learned about their bedevilment.”
“He’s a bit much sometimes,” Hope replied. “But we love him just the same.”
All right, let’s get this party started.
“The reason we came to see you is about Hugo’s murder,” Hope said. “His dead body lay on the back aisle of our bookshop. I don’t know what you’ve heard about us, but I’m here to give you the straight trut
h as I know it.”
Mrs. Spangler nodded once. “Did you kill my only child Hugo?”
“We’d nothing to do with his murder,” Hope replied.
“You have to believe us,” Peggy Sue said.
“Relax because I trust you both,” Mrs. Spangler said. “I don’t think you have a good reason to drive out to my house and then lie straight to my face.”
“That’s a relief to hear coming from you,” Hope said.
Peggy Sue nodded in agreement.
“I expect it is,” Mrs. Spangler said. “That leaves us with the thorny question of how my dead son got where you discovered him. Have you got any opinion accounting for that?”
“We’re as baffled as you are about it,” Hope replied. “Sergeant Trogg is investigating it for the police.”
“Sergeant Trogg is a horse’s south end,” Mrs. Spangler said. “Pardon my frank opinion, but I’ve seen enough of them on the farm to know one when I see it.”
“Did he do something bad or wrong to you?” Hope asked.
“I know his family, so we go back a ways,” Mrs. Spangler replied.
“He’s almost made it his life mission to arrest Peggy Sue and me as Hugo’s murderers,” Hope said. “So, we’ve taken it upon ourselves to look into Hugo’s murder and smoke out the real killer before Sergeant Trogg can toss us into jail.”
“Then I can well understand your need for urgency,” Mrs. Spangler said. “I’d love to do whatever I can to help you.”
“Have you got any suspicion of who’d want to bump off Hugo?” Hope asked.
“I don’t as I told Sergeant Trogg,” Mrs. Spangler replied. “Hugo and I chatted once a week, usually on Wednesday nights, over the phone. Chat is a lot different from talk, mind you. He didn’t get into his personal affairs, and I knew better than to probe too much.”
“Why not?” Hope asked. “I’m also a mother. We naturally like to know what’s going on in our kids’ lives.”
“Hugo wasn’t so easygoing if you ever made him angry,” Mrs. Spangler replied. “His surliness once in the while got the best of him, and it got him into trouble.”
“Did he get into trouble with the law?” Hope asked.