by Carol A. Guy
The well-stocked pharmacy was laid out quite simply, with neat rows of products clearly labeled. Like many drug stores of the past, McBride’s had an old-fashioned soda fountain, located in the back left corner. The décor was reminiscent of the late 1950s. Local highs school students comprised the workforce. As had been the arrangement for over twenty-five years, half the proceeds went to the Crescent Falls High School Athletic Fund.
“I’ve put some very good people in charge of the displays, Anne. I’m looking forward to buying one of your pecan pies,” Adelaide told the woman.
“I’ll bake them tonight,” Anne Hinderman promised. “I thought I’d drop off three tomorrow, then three on Saturday.”
“Excellent,” Adelaide said as she continued toward the area of the store where the pharmacy was located.
As she approached the elevated counter, she spotted Vernon’s shiny balding pate. He was looking down, writing something on a pad of paper so he didn’t notice her at first. At the age of fifty-seven, he still had a youthful complexion. What was left of his hair was a smooth shade of sable brown. Even though he’d gotten a little pudgy over the past few years, he was still a nice looking man.
She, Vernon and Albert had been friends since grade school. She’d dated both of them in high school. In the end, her heart had gone to Albert. Although obviously disappointed, Vernon seemed to take it in stride. The three of them had remained good friends.
Albert’s father, Horace, who opened the pharmacy in 1939, was proud as could be when his son decided to become a pharmacist. Father and son worked together side by side until Horace succumbed to a stroke in 1989 at the age of sixty-three. It was then that Albert made a trip to Marietta, where his best friend Vernon Dexter was managing a franchised drug mart.
“It didn’t take much convincing, Addy,” Albert had told her upon his return that day. His big smile said it all. The next week Vernon began working at McBride’s. Albert loved telling the story of how he saved his best friend from wasting away in some “cookie cutter” drug store where the bottom line was more important than its customers’ needs. “To say nothing of the gas money he’s saving now that he doesn’t have to commute from Crescent Falls every day!”
In response, Vernon was fond of saying, “I just accepted his offer as a favor to an old friend. I mean, he looked so pitiful down on bended knee begging me to help him out.”
In spite of the good natured banter, Adelaide knew Vernon was as glad to be working in his hometown as Albert had been to finally have his best friend by his side.
Come on, Adelaide, you know there is more to it than that, at least where Vernon is concerned. He’s in love with you, always has been. I should be flattered to have such a fine man interested in me. But somehow I just can’t take that step. Not yet. Maybe never.
“Got everything under control at the church?” Vernon asked. His smile lit up an already cheerful face.
“We’re as ready as we’ll ever be,” she replied. She looked around. Although no customers were waiting in any of the six chairs lined up against the wall to her left, she could see he’d been busy that morning filling prescriptions, by the number of bags in the plastic bins behind him.
“You say that every year, and every year things go like clockwork. They always will as long as you’re in charge, Addy.”
“I’m saving you one of my lemon meringue pies,” she promised.
“I’m counting on that.”
Suddenly his expression sobered. “I just filled a prescription for one of our long-time customers whose insurance has run out.”
Adelaide felt her dander go up. “Another ex-employee of L&C?”
He nodded. “That brings the total to over thirty.”
Adelaide hated the way the town’s largest employer had closed up shop, leaving its employees with little notice and only thirty days’ worth of medical coverage. Many of those people couldn’t afford to continue their benefits through COBRA for very long, so they were now without insurance.
“You know our policy, Vern. We still only charge the customer the three-dollar co-pay if they have it. If not, they get the medicine free.”
“I know. I’m not complaining about that, Addy. It’s the right thing to do. I’m just worried we won’t be able to keep this up for much longer,” His brow furrowed in a frown.
“We’ll find a way. The Lord provides, Vern, remember that.” Even though she knew Vernon wasn’t particularly religious, she didn’t think it hurt to remind him once in a while that there was a higher power at work in the universe.
Just then Adelaide heard an all-too-familiar voice, making her inwardly cringed a little. She couldn’t decipher exactly what the woman was saying, but she heard Anne’s cheery reply cut short. Momentarily, the sound of quick, snappy footfalls announced the arrival of Zelda Jackson. The petite woman came around one of the nearby shelves, the ever-present look of pent-up tension on her face. Her dark blue eyes darted between Adelaide and Vernon as her mouth turned down in disapproval. In her late fifties, Zelda had been a widow for many years and constantly referred to her late husband in a way that made it clear she viewed his untimely demise as a personal affront to her.
Although she’d been born in nearby Rosewood, Zelda liked to claim Crescent Falls as her hometown. Once a quality control manager for L&C Precision, she was extremely bitter about the way the company treated her when it shut its doors forever.
Zelda nodded a greeting at Adelaide, then laid a prescription up on the counter. “Can you get this right away, Vernon? I’m due at a Friends of the Library meeting in fifteen minutes. I need my allergy medicine.”
In Crescent Falls it was said that Zelda Jackson had her finger in every pie and her eye to every keyhole. She was president of the local Friends of the Library, vice president of the Crescent Falls United Methodist Women, tour coordinator for the local historical society, as well as secretary of the Church Coalition Board, the group in charge of running the local food pantry and thrift store.
Zelda took a ragged breath then turned to Adelaide. “I can barely breathe! That clerk in the front has so much perfume on it about choked me.”
Besides having many vague health problems, Zelda claimed to be allergic to all perfumes, all dairy foods, all seafood, all alcohol, all citrus, peanuts and pork. Her medications were varied, of course, which kept her coming into the pharmacy on a regular basis.
“I didn’t smell anything as I passed by,” Adelaide replied.
Zelda glared at her. “I’m very sensitive to such things, everyone knows that.”
Adelaide bit her tongue so she wouldn’t say anything unkind.
Zelda went to one of the chairs and sat down with a groan. “I thought you’d be at church all day. I was just over there. It looks like there is still plenty to do.”
“Everything is moving along just fine, Zelda. Thanks for your concern, though,” Adelaide said with a smile. “When are you scheduled to work?”
Zelda’s eyes narrowed a little. “Tomorrow in the kitchen, fixing the box lunches. I’ll also be there on Saturday all day wherever I’m needed.”
Adelaide knew from past experience that Zelda loved to over-extend herself so she could later complain about being overburdened.
Zelda folded her hands in her lap. “I just saw Harold Purcell headed this way, but he ducked into the diner first. I suppose he’s still making a fool of himself over Dora. Nancy hasn’t been dead a year and he’s already on the prowl.” Her eyes gleamed with malice as she curled her lips up in a disdainful sneer.
Harold’s wife of forty years had died of lung cancer nine months ago. Adelaide doubted very much if the stoic funeral home director was already looking for a replacement. More than likely he was just after some good home cooking, which was what Dora served at her diner.
Adelaide knew that Zelda’s scathing comment had less to do with Harold observing a proper period of mourning than it did with a personal vendetta. The animosity between the two was well known. When Zelda’s h
usband, Edward, died of a heart attack, she’d accused the funeral home of doing an inadequate job of embalming. She told anyone who would listen that the embalmer had used watered down solution, which made Edward’s remains turn dark before the service was even over. Later it was discovered that the fault lay with the manufacturer of the solution. Batches of that lot number had been recalled statewide. Regardless of that, Zelda continued to blame Harold. To this day she barely spoke to him in public.
“Maybe he was just hungry, Zelda. Today is Thursday, so meatloaf is the special. Harold loves meatloaf,” Adelaide suggested.
Zelda huffed. “I’ve seen the way he moons over Dora. Believe me, it has nothing to do with her cooking. I know what I’d tell him if he ever acted like that around me.”
“All set, Zelda. Here’s your prescription,” Vernon called. He caught Adelaide’s eye, giving her a wink. His expression seemed to say, Don’t lose your cool.
Turning to go, Adelaide almost ran into Harold Purcell as he approached the counter. His eyes flickered toward Zelda then away. He smiled down warmly at Adelaide. He was a tall, lanky man with neatly trimmed gray hair. His soft brown eyes were kind, his manner gentle.
“I was going to call you later, Harold. The men are going to start setting up the tables in the social hall at five this afternoon,” Adelaide told him.
“I’ll be there,” he vowed. He watched as Zelda hurried away, heading toward the cashier’s counter in the front. He sighed heavily, shaking his head. “That woman certainly knows how to bear a grudge, doesn’t she?”
Adelaide watched until Zelda was out of sight then said, “Everyone knows it wasn’t your fault, Harold. How was the meatloaf?”
Harold smiled. “Delicious, as always. Dora wasn’t there, though. Seems she had a dentist appointment.”
Adelaide didn’t miss the disappointment in his tone, or the sadness in his eyes. Harold was a precise man who’d turned the funeral home his grandfather opened in 1914 into an extremely profitable business. Harold had also been town mayor from 1994 to 1998. He remained on town council and almost every citizen in Crescent Falls held him in high esteem.
“How is James doing?” Adelaide asked referring to Harold’s son who lived in Columbus. She knew that one of the great disappointments in his life was when his son told him he would not be returning to Crescent Falls to help run the family business. Instead, James opted to become a doctor. On the bright side, however, Harold’s daughter, Ruth, now worked with her father.
“He’s expanding his practice, which means he has little time for anything else. I’ll tell you, Adelaide, I don’t think I’m ever going to have grandchildren. James is still unmarried. Ruth won’t even date.” He sighed again.
“Just hold good thoughts, Harold. All things come about in their own time.”
Harold nodded. “I hope so. By the way, since you’re here, let me give you this.” He dug into his coat pocket, taking out a folded piece of paper, which he handed to her.
Adelaide nearly gasped when she realized it was a very generous check. “I don’t understand, Harold.” She held up the check for Vernon to see.
“I know what you’ve been doing—letting people who have no insurance have their medicine for free or for the co-pay. I want you to put this toward the fund.”
Adelaide felt a lump form in her throat. “I don’t know what to say, Harold.”
Vernon chuckled. “That will be the day.”
Harold put a prescription on the counter. “Just don’t tell anyone I gave that check to you. I don’t want it spread around, all right?”
Adelaide nodded. Vernon nodded. Harold said, “I’ll be back for my pills later.”
As Adelaide left the pharmacy moments later with the check in her purse, she thought the funeral home business must be very profitable indeed if the amount of Harold’s donation was any indication.
Chapter Four
On Thursday afternoon, Chief of Police Daniel McBride was cloistered in his office just off the squad room, hoping to catch up on some paperwork he’d been putting off for about a week. Upstairs, the two jail cells were empty. Courtroom A was reserved for Mayor’s Court, which was held each Wednesday evening to handle traffic violations and other misdemeanors. Common Pleas/criminal cases were heard by a circuit court judge in Courtroom B or transferred to Marietta. Crime always seemed to increase during the holidays.
In the six months he’d been the town’s chief of police, he’d encountered his share of controversy. Many citizens expressed the opinion that he was too young for the job. I’m thirty-two, how is that too young? I have nine years on the force. Small town politics. I’ll never get used to it.
The city council vote had been close. He could still recall that night, as they sat in the town council chambers right across the hall. In his mind, Daniel ticked off who’d been for him and who’d been against him during that heated meeting. He knew for a fact that Harold Purcell, Vernon Dexter and local insurance agency owner Jerry Hatfield had voted to hire him. All three men were friends with his mother, so that explained their vote, he supposed.
On the other side of the aisle, so to speak, Marty Castro, proprietor of the local pub, Dora Carmody, the owner of the diner, and Lloyd Fletcher, a local real estate broker had voted nay. That had left the deciding vote up to the mayor, Carl Henshaw. “So, did you vote to hire me because of your friendship with my mother?” Daniel had asked Carl after the meeting in the mayor’s office, which was tucked in the back corner of the building. Carl had just patted him on the shoulder and smiled, but made no comment. On his way out that evening, Daniel noticed a small group of people cloistered in the public meeting room next to the council chambers. Unfortunately he was too far away to hear what they were saying.
Looking up from the files in front of him, Daniel stared out the large picture window that served as part of his office wall. In the squad room, Sergeant Ray Butler, a tall man with finely chiseled features, was just settling behind his gunmetal gray desk. Of all his officers, he trusted Ray the most. In truth, he’d assumed when the job of police chief became vacant, Ray would be hired. He had one more year on the force than Daniel, along with an exemplary record.
Daniel’s mind went to a conversation he’d overheard between Ray and Officer Ed Lucas. At twenty-nine years old, Ed had been on the force for four years. Daniel didn’t care for Ed’s caustic attitude. He’d been brought up on charges more than once for using excessive force. On that particular afternoon, about a month after Daniel was promoted to chief, he happened to hear Ray and Ed arguing in the smaller, downstairs break room…
“I don’t like his laid back attitude. He needs to grow a set,” Ed said in a tone riddled with scorn.
“Like you, you mean? How many complaints are in your folder?” Ray retorted.
“I do what it takes to get the job done, Butler. Let’s see if McBride has the stones to do the same!”
Daniel shoved some papers into a folder, then sat back in his swivel chair, which squeaked in protest. Out in the squad room, Lieutenant Luke Fagan, who had come to them five years ago from the Columbus PD, strode to his desk, shoving a scruffy looking teenager down in a straight back chair. The skinny kid seemed high on something.
Daniel liked Luke, who had just made lieutenant last month after a major arrest involving a drug ring trying to get a foothold in Crescent Falls. He was a tall, bulky African-American man who’d recently turned forty but didn’t look a day over thirty. He and Daniel weren’t good friends, but he knew the man always had his back on the job. He also had training in crime scene investigative techniques, so that made him a very valuable asset to the department.
While Luke questioned the disgruntled youth, Daniel turned his thoughts to Judy Hess, a petite redheaded officer whose small stature hid the proficient Tai Kwan Do expert beneath. She’d been a star athlete on the high school gymnastic team. He’d seen her bring more than one belligerent drunk down with an expert move. He smiled as he thought about how her green eyes flashed
like emeralds when she had to subdue a perp. Her marksmanship with a gun was also legendary. They’d partnered up several times while he was still a patrolman. He found her so easy to talk to, often thinking that if he wasn’t involved with Brenda Collier…
Forget it. It would never work out. She’s a cop under my command and such things are strictly forbidden.
Daniel’s thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Lloyd Fletcher entering the squad room. A ball of cold clay settled in his stomach as he watched the short, stocky realtor strut past the other officers. The only one he acknowledged was Ed Lucas. No big surprise, since they were united in their disapproval of the way Daniel was running the police department.
Without knocking, Lloyd came into Daniel’s office, shutting the door soundly behind him. Daniel assessed the man from head to toe. His hair formed a light brown fringe around a shiny bald head. A pronounced pot belly struggled to remain hidden behind a starched white shirt. The man’s dark green eyes flashed angrily.
In Daniel’s opinion, the word huckster had been invented for men like Lloyd. A native of Zanesville, he’d moved to Crescent Falls in the late 1990s and purchased two parcels of land. He’d developed the large acreage on the west end of town into a gated condo complex called Creekside Village, where Daniel now lived. Off State Route 550, Lloyd also purchased a smaller tract where he erected a less exclusive apartment complex called Mulberry Manor. Daniel guessed that Lloyd was probably a millionaire by now, since he seemed to own property all over the state, including two-hundred wooded acres he’d purchased about a year ago north of town. Coincidentally, that was just about the time Lloyd began pressuring council to allow a casino to be built in order to bolster Crescent Falls’ sagging economy.
“What can I do for you, Lloyd?” Daniel asked in a voice he hoped didn’t reveal his aggravation at being interrupted.
Lloyd glared down at Daniel from the other side of the desk. “You can catch the juvenile delinquents who have once again spray painted the lions at my gate. This time they are bright, neon green!”