The Feed Store Floozy (The Penelope Pembroke Cozy Mystery Series) by Judy Nickles

of people mad. There’s a better way to get information than suggesting their ancestors worked in a—uh…you know.”
    “I know. I tried to tell him that.”
    “And then you did do Hal Greene a dirty turn, promising him the story and not carrying through.”
    “What is this, Penelope, Sunday School hour?”
    “Nothing like that. I just came by to tell you I’m sorry about what happened and wish you well.”
    “Thanks.”
    “I mean it, Brice. This town has had enough trouble.”
    “And I suppose I’ve just added to it.”
    “I didn’t mean—I better go.” Penelope had her hand on the door when a voice, dripping with southern honey, drifted in from the back. “Where do these go, darlin’?”
    Jill Jerome wafted through the door and froze when she saw Penelope. Brice’s face took on the color of the crimson velvet cloth on which he was displaying the antique clocks. “Oh, hello there.” The honey droplets turned to icicles.
    “Hello,” Penelope said. “I was just leaving.”
    “Not on my account, I hope.” A tawny mane of hair set off small, exquisitely made-up features of a face that looked younger than it had any right to look.
    “I just dropped in to wish Brice luck with his opening.”
    “Thanks, Penelope. See you around.”
    “Penelope? The lady with the B&B?”
    “Guilty.”
    “And your son is Detective Brad Pembroke.”
    “That’s right.”
    “He’s such a gentleman.” The dripping honey thawed and became a gush. “He was so thoughtful after that terrible thing that happened to poor Wally.”
    “It’s his job,” Penelope said. “I’ve got to go. Nice meeting you.”
    “We weren’t introduced. I’m Jill Jerome. I came to take pictures for Wally and stayed to help Brice put his shop in order. We were all college buddies.”
    “That’s nice.” You sure as heck weren’t a fraternity buddy. Maybe a shack-up, but— Penelope cut off her thoughts. “Bye now.” She tried not to sprint through the door.
    ****
    At the library, she almost collided with Miss Maude Pendleton in a navy blue dress buttoned at the neck and wrists despite the August heat.  I think she wore that same dress every day she taught school. And that knot of hair on top of her head makes her look ten feet tall even if she’s shorter than I am. “Good morning, Miss Maude.”
    “Penelope Kelley. I hope your choice of reading matter is better than it was in high school.”
    “I try to remember what you taught me, Miss Maude.”
    The woman shifted her book bag from one bony arm to the other. “Your son remembered his manners when he came to speak with me on Friday about that disgraceful matter at the feed store. Fulghum’s Feed Store.”
    The disgraceful matter is a murder, but whatever floats your boat. “I’m glad to hear it, Miss Maude.”
    “He heard Mr. Powers had paid a call on me. A brief call.”
    “I see.” I can just see you beating him with that old skeleton umbrella, too. Penelope bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing at the mental picture.
    “I asked him—your son, not Mr. Powers—if he believed I was involved in the matter. He assured me he did not.”
    “Of course not, Miss Maude.”
    “As I explained to him, Mr. Powers quite forgot himself and inquired into my background, something a gentleman should never do.”
    “I doubt he was a gentleman.”
    “He was not. He refused to leave on request, so I had to employ another method to persuade him to go.”
    That blessed bony umbrella. You’re magnificent, Miss Maude! “That’s understandable.”
    “I explained all that to Bradley. He quite understood.”
    “I’m sure he did.”
    “I’ll be on my way now. My niece is waiting for me in the car.”
    “It was nice seeing you, Miss Maude.”
    The woman inclined her head, a queen acknowledging her loyal subject, and moved on, back straight, head erect.
    I hope I age as well as Miss Maude Pendleton. Penelope covered her mouth to stifle her laughter as she thought again of