Pearls and Poison (A Consignment Shop Mystery)

by Brown, Duffy

  Swagger guy went to a recycle bin and pulled it out.

  • • •

  BY FIVE O’CLOCK I WAS ON PINS AND NEEDLES WAITING TO hear from ross. Did the taillight pieces fit? Did they find the employee with the pickup? A lot was riding on that taillight. I wrote up a sale for a yellow jacket and charged the woman the wrong amount; my brain was total mush.

  “Did you hear anything?” KiKi asked, wringing her hands as she bustled in the back kitchen door.

  “Nothing. Where’s Mamma?”

  “I got her teaching the teens. She’s taking her frustration out on them. Maybe they’ll learn something.”

  The Fox was empty, customers home doing the Dolly Domestic thing. As I tagged the clothes I took in for consignment that day, KiKi hung them up, BW following her around the shop to make sure she did it right. I had just handed KiKi a cute polka-dot jacket for a display when Honey Seymour barged through the front door. Her eyes were wild, hair on end, and there was a big gun in her hand.

  “You!” she scowled, looking right at me. “You little good-for-nothing troublemaker. I didn’t recognize you at my house with that stupid haircut and bad dye job.” Honey waved the gun. “You and your crazy aunt and mother have the police out looking for me all over a stupid broken taillight and sawdust on the bottom of some gasoline cans in my carriage house.”

  She aimed the gun at me. “Get out from behind that counter. You all have ruined me, and I’m going to ruin you both, then I’m going after that holier-then-thou judge Gloria Summerside. I was winning this election by a landslide. I was going to be the next alderman and then mayor and then who knows how high I’d go. The barmaid makes good. I was on my way to sitting on Savannah’s city council and running this here city.”

  Money-Honey aimed the gun and pulled the trigger, the blast echoing off the walls and the bullet zinging by my left ear and hitting the stairs. Holy crap!

  “That’s just a little sample of what’s coming. I’m finished, and it’s not my fault. I didn’t do that fire at the lumberyard,” she sobbed. “You’re setting me up for that, and killing Kip was nothing but an accident. I didn’t kill him on purpose. He was having an attack, and I gave him one of his pills thinking it would help, but it just made things worse, and then he stopped breathing, and I slapped him around a few times, but it didn’t do any good. It never did any good the other times either. Blast that man!”

  “And since he was already dead,” I said, playing for time, “you put the pills in the honey bourbon bottle so you could frame Mamma and take your husband’s place and win the election.” Lord have mercy, where were nosy neighbors when you needed them? Where were the sirens? The police? They were there fast enough when I was at Dozer’s.

  “Framing Gloria was Delray’s idea, all Delray,” Honey said. “And maybe a little mine. We put so much work and effort into the campaign, and Kip was just ruining everything with his fooling around and poking anything in a skirt. I swear that man never did know how to keep his pants zipped.”

  “You had every right to be upset,” I said to keep Honey focused on me and not KiKi. I hoped the police would get here soon; anytime now would be good.

  I caught some movement by the kitchen door. The police? No! It was Mamma charging into the hall like the marines and yelling, “No one holds a gun on my daughter and sister!”

  Money-Honey spun around, fired another shot that hit the ceiling as Mamma whacked her over the head with a campaign sign, knocking her to the floor. KiKi kicked the gun under the checkout door, Mamma and I pounced on top of Money-Honey, and I tied her hands roughly behind her back with her very own cream-colored Chanel scarf that matched her suit perfectly.

  • • •

  “YOU’RE REALLY NOT GOING TO RUN FOR ALDERMAN?” I SAID to mamma the next morning over coffee at her house, Auntie KiKi off picking Uncle Putter up at the airport.

  Mamma took a sip and shook her head. “I couldn’t win. Even though Honey’s confessed to killing Kip and there’s overwhelming evidence she and Delray knocked off Butler and set the fire at the lumberyard, there’s too much that’s gone on. A hint of scandal is all it takes to kill a campaign, and this time it was a lot more than a hint. Besides, I like being a fulltime judge, and I think Archie Lee is going to do a pretty fair job on city council. I ordered a big bouquet of flowers from Flora’s Flowers, and I was going to drop them off in person to wish him luck.”

  I put down my coffee. “You’re kidding?”

  “I want to make peace with him, Reagan. If he has problems, I want him to feel free to ask me for help. It’s what’s best for Savannah; that’s why I was running for alderman in the first place. I love this city. I want to take care of it and keep it strong and vibrant.”

  Mamma checked her watch. “I have a meeting down at the courthouse to get my chambers in order and my cases rescheduled.” She beamed. “Guillotine Gloria is back.”

  I wished Mamma luck then headed off to talk to Mavis Lee Hornback who planned to redecorate and wanted to consign furniture at the Fox. Her lovely late-Federal clapboard two-story faced Crawford Square, taking me past Colonial Park Cemetery and the Cemetery. My steps slowed the closer I got to the bar.

  If Mamma was big enough to make amends with Archie Lee, so was I. Right? He might just toss me out on my behind, but it wouldn’t be the first time, and I’d survive. If I made peace too, maybe Archie Lee would bury the hatchet and contact Mamma if he needed something. I had to do what was best for the city.

  “Hi,” I said, moseying up to the bar stacked with boxes. The Cemetery was quiet this early in the morning, lights on to clean the place up but no one around except Archie Lee clearing out a big crate.

  Archie Lee looked up, a snide grin on his face. “Go away.”

  “I came to wish you luck in the election,” I said all cheery and sweet and trying my best to be sincere.

  He stopped working and swiped his forehead. “Well, ain’t that special. The thing is, I don’t need your luck or anyone else’s. I’ve got this election wrapped up. I’ve got everything under control. I’m the new alderman, and I’m going to do it up right. I’m getting new clothes and a new car and maybe a new house if I get the urge. Here, let me show you something.”

  Archie Lee took a white box from the bar and pulled off the lid. He set aside the bill from Spanish Moss Printers and took out a lovely embossed invitation. “Feast your eyes on this little gem. I’m having myself a celebration party the night of the election over at the Old Pink House. Archie Lee, the big man in town for a change. Guess no one will be snubbing me anymore, will they?”

  He handed me the bill. “Just the invitations cost a lot of money. I’m a man who knows how to get what he wants.”

  “Those are expensive,” I said, using up every bit of nice I had in me. I smiled and handed back the bill, then stopped. I took another look, a closer look at the bill this time. The date the invitations were ordered was the very day after Money-Honey declared her candidacy. There was no way Archie Lee could have known he was going to win the election then. Fact is Money-Honey had the lead, a really big lead.

  “You know, don’t you?” Archie Lee said in a too-sweet voice, making every hair on my head stand straight up.

  “I don’t know anything,” I said, tossing the bill in the box and backing toward the door.

  Archie Lee reached under the bar, brought out a shotgun, and pointed it right at my middle. “You and your buddy in the back are just too darn smart for your own good, you know that?”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “WHAT buddy?”

  Archie Lee laughed and hitched his head toward the back. “Move it and don’t try anything funny. This is my pappy’s shotgun, and it don’t miss.”

  Mamma? Did Archie have her in the back? Did she beat me here and figure it all out, too? Oh, please, not Mamma. But I didn’t see her flowers. KiKi was with Uncle Putter. Mercedes? It must be Mercedes; maybe she’d figured it all out.

  I wound my way through the tables headin
g toward the hall; the kitchen door was closed. “Open it,” Archie Lee ordered.

  The big cauldron sat cooking on the old black stove, the fragrant aroma of Old Bay Seasoning and Guinness filling the room, and Walker Boone was tied to a chair in the corner. He looked at me and sighed. “Great. What the heck are you doing here?”

  “You knew about the dates on the invitations, too?”

  “Butler’s books. He sold lumber to Archie Lee, and the delivery was to the house on Blair. I figured there was a connection.”

  “You bet there’s a connection,” Archie Lee said. “That there was my granny’s house. I bought the wood and fixed her steps for her, and she fell straight through and broke her hip and her back. That fall put her in a wheelchair. Haber burned down her house to get rid of the evidence, but I knew what happened, and I wasn’t about to let him get away with it. Seymour Construction was doing the same thing, hurting innocent people by using bad lumber, and they were going to get away with it, too.”

  “So you took care of them both,” Boone said, giving me a weird look. “With Honey Seymour accused of murdering Butler, it would all get front-page attention. Otherwise, it would be buried in the courts forever.” This time Boone gave me a piercing look. Either he had gas or something was up. I gave him a what look back, and he rolled his eyes.

  “And it was easy enough to pull off,” Archie Lee continued in a smug voice. “The night Honey had her rally I slipped in like a delivery guy and snatched one of her fancy scarves. My rally didn’t start till six so I had plenty of time.”

  “And then you planted the scarf at the lumberyard when you knocked off Butler and set the place on fire,” I said, seeing it all fall into place. “Why the taillight?”

  “Brother said I needed more to connect Honey than just a scarf, so he busted the light out late last night and planted it at the fire. With all the commotion going on no one noticed him there. He even put sawdust from the lumberyard on the bottom of the gas cans in Honey’s garage.”

  “Nice touch.”

  “Now I get to be Savannah’s new alderman.” Archie Lee grinned ear to ear. “Not bad, if I do say so myself. I’m a lot smarter than people think I am.”

  “Wait a minute, back up,” I said, things starting to sink in. I glared at Boone. “Why are you here?”

  “Bad timing?”

  I parked my hands on my hips. “When the lumberyard went up in flames, you knew it wasn’t Honey who set the fire all along. You knew it was Archie Lee?”

  “I suspected.”

  “What happened to looks like a duck and quacks like a duck?”

  “I didn’t want you to wind up exactly where you are now, but in true form you wound up here anyway.”

  “You wanted to handle it.”

  “Something like that.”

  “And look where it got you. You are a rotten, no-good, two-faced—”

  “Archie Lee,” came Popeye’s voice from an open door in the corner. “I almost got that hole dug down here like you wanted.”

  Keeping the shotgun on me, Archie Lee backed to the doorway. “We’re needing another hole. We got more company.”

  “What company?”

  “That Summerside girl.”

  A sinister laugh floated up the stairs, sending chills clear through my body.

  Archie Lee stood on one foot, a sly smile on his face. “We’re going to bury you two in the basement with those Yankee soldiers everyone’s always talking about around here. I got one crate cleared out front, and I’ll get another, or maybe I’ll just jam you both in the one and save time. What do you think about that?”

  “I think it sucks,” I said to Archie Lee. “I think all this sucks.” I glared at Boone. “I’m so pissed off at you. And I’m fed up with having guns pointed at me, and I absolutely, positively refuse to be buried with a bunch of damn Yankees.”

  I kicked the two-by-four out from under the stove, the boiling caldron flipping over, scalding water and peanuts sailing right for Archie Lee and the open door.

  Archie Lee jumped out of the way, dropping the shotgun, and Boone decked him with a solid left hook as I whacked Archie Lee in the gut with the oar and slammed the door to the basement closed, Boone flipping the lock.

  “Nice going, Blondie.” Boone grinned. “Glad you got my message.”

  “What message? There was no message. I thought you were having an attack of something, and don’t you Blondie me you double-dealing piece of crud. You lied to me; you always lie to me. I never know what to believe.”

  “How about believing this?” Boone picked me up and kissed me, and for a second I forgot about being mad. Okay, maybe for a lot of seconds I forgot about being mad. I couldn’t breathe, my heart raced, and I really did see stars, lots of ’em. He let me go, setting me back on the floor.

  “You . . . You think that makes up for the duck thing?”

  The grin grew. “Maybe a little.”

  “It doesn’t, not one bit.”

  This time Boone laughed. “Worth a try, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” And then he kissed me again.