The Christmas Shoppe (2 page)

George turned away from the unpleasant scene in front of the Barton Building, but as he ducked into the newspaper office, he could still hear the two chirping females as they went into what should’ve been his building. He needed to do something and he needed to do it fast. He was ready to implement plan B—bending the ear of Tommy Thompson. After all, Tommy’s father, Tom Sr., had once been good friends with George. Tommy had been fresh out of college when he inherited the town’s weekly newspaper, the
Parrish Springs Spout
.

As he went inside, the councilman felt almost fatherly toward his old friend’s son. He felt certain that Tommy would be happy to get the scoop on such a juicy story, because he knew this was a ripe one.

“How you doing, Helen?” George grinned at the part-time receptionist. He’d known Helen Fremont since childhood. She’d been a few years behind him in school but appeared to be holding up fine for her age. Just fine. In fact, not for the first time, George wondered what was wrong with Rich Fremont for having left this stunning woman. Of course, looks could be deceiving, and he’d heard the rumor that Helen had borrowed money from her elderly mother to get some “work done” recently. George assumed that meant plastic surgery and such, but seeing her today, he figured it must’ve been well worth the price.

“I’m just fine, Councilman Snider.” Helen smiled brightly. “How about you?”

“Well, to be perfectly honest, I’ve had better days.”

She nodded. “I heard about the Barton Building.”

He shook his head. “That’s why I’m here. I want to talk to Tommy about the whole nasty business. I’m sure there’s a story behind it.”

“I think Tommy’s in his office, unless he’s still working on the press. You want me to buzz him for you?”

Her phone began jangling, and he waved his hand at her. “Nah, I’ll just go and hunt him down.”

She turned to answer the phone, and George headed on back through the dimly lit building. This place hadn’t changed much since the days Tom Sr. ran the
Spout
. Back then it seemed much more modern and efficient somehow. Now it just seemed dusty and old. Then again, no one had expected Tommy to stick with the paper this long. Tommy had been one of those kids who thought Parrish Springs was a backwater, one-horse town. He’d made it no secret that he was hankering after those big-city lights. The fact he was still here was a bit of a mystery to George. At least the boy knew how to write a good story, and for a small-town paper, Tommy kept it interesting.

“Hey, Councilman Snider.” Tommy emerged from the pressroom.

George greeted him and shook hands. With a serious expression, he informed Tommy that he was sitting on a real big story. “I think you’ll be interested in this one.”

“Come on back to my office,” Tommy said in a friendly tone. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“Nah, I’m all coffeed up already.” As they walked, George filled Tommy in about losing the bid on the Barton Building to Matilda Honeycutt.

“I heard about that,” Tommy admitted as he led the way into his cramped and cluttered office. “Too bad for you, Councilman.”

“Unless it’s not over yet . . .” George closed the door to the office, waiting for Tommy to sit down and get comfortable. “Because I’m telling it to you straight, Tommy, that woman is up to no good.”

Tommy listened to the familiar creak of his worn leather chair as he leaned back. Folding his arms across his front, he eyed the councilman carefully, finally deciding to wear his lackadaisical expression. After nearly two decades in the newspaper business, he’d learned a thing or two. In this case, he knew that the less he said, the more he could learn. Councilman Snider was usually long-winded, and if you gave him enough space, he would easily fill it in with words. It would be up to Tommy to separate the fact from the fantasy and decide whether or not it was fit to print.

“What makes you so sure?” Tommy finally asked in a flat tone.

“For starters, this strange broad sneaks into town with no friends, no connections, nothing. She doesn’t seem to know a single soul, doesn’t even have a residence here—”

“How do you know that?”

“I have my sources.” He grinned like that was supposed to be funny. “My housekeeper’s sister works at the Golden Door Motel. That’s where Matilda Honeycutt’s been staying. Not sure how long she’s been there, but according to Cathleen, that Matilda Honeycutt is one weird wacko.”

“Cathleen?”

“My housekeeper,” he answered a bit cantankerously. Like he wanted to know why Tommy wasn’t keeping up better.

“Why does your housekeeper think Ms. Honeycutt’s a weird wacko?”

“Probably because she is. At least that’s what Cathleen’s sister says. Now, I’m trying to remember what Cathleen called that woman. Sounded like a bad word at first, but it wasn’t. Oh yeah, she told me that Honeycutt lady is a hoarder. You know what that is, Tommy?”

“You mean like a pack rat? Someone who hoards a lot of stuff?”

“I reckon. Anyway, it sounds like she’s got a bunch of trash with her. Some of it’s in her car. A bunch is in her room. Nothing worth anything, according to Cathleen.”

“You mean Cathleen’s sister.”

“Yes, yes, Cathleen’s sister or whomever. Can you imagine why any sane person would haul a lot of garbage around with them? You have to admit it sounds a little crazy.”

Tommy shrugged. “Takes all kinds.”

“Maybe so . . . but here’s another thing. This woman looks about the closest thing to a homeless person I’ve seen. Yet here she is purchasing a very valuable piece of real estate—getting it for a song too.”

Tommy couldn’t help but smile. “So does that mean you were going to get it for half a song? Or maybe a chorus or just a ditty?”

“Never mind that.” The councilman thumped his forefinger on the one cleared space of Tommy’s desk. “Thing is, I
know
this woman’s not on the up-and-up. First of all, why’s she sneaking around like that? What brought her to Parrish Springs? How did she know about the sealed auction? Why is she staying in a hotel instead of with family or friends? Why does she go around town dressed like a bum? Especially when, according to my sources, she’s paying cash.”

“What sources would that be?”

“I can’t give it all away, son. You’re the newspaperman. I expect you to do some of the sniffing around for yourself. Just take my word for it, that woman’s got something to hide. The sooner you get to the bottom of it, the better off our town will be.”

“Something to hide?” Tommy pressed his lips together and nodded slowly, trying to act like he was taking this all in. In actuality he was thinking about lunch, wondering if today’s blue-plate special was a meatball sandwich or mac and cheese. He was hoping for the meatballs, but Belinda at the diner kept switching it around. “What do you think she’s up to?”

“Like I already told you—no good! Why, you can tell just by looking at her that she doesn’t belong in a town like Parrish Springs.”

“How so?”

“For starters, she wears these offbeat, ratty-tatty clothes. Sort of like the hippies used to wear, with beads and strange shawls and these long, weird dresses. Oh yeah, she’s got long hair too.”

“Long hair?” Tommy suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and laugh. “That’s something to get in an uproar about, Councilman. Maybe I should write an op-ed piece about long hair and how you can tell so much about a person just from the length. You think?”

“It’s long
gray
hair. Stringy, you know, like a witch.” The councilman pointed a crooked forefinger in the air. “That’s it! That’s exactly what she reminds me of, Tommy—a witch.”

Tommy glanced at his desk calendar, which was still open to October. He sighed and flipped the page over. “Halloween was just a few days ago. Maybe Ms. Honeycutt is still in her costume.”

“You can joke all you want, Tommy, but I’m telling you there’s something weird about this lady. I can feel it in my bones. I’ve got a good sense about people, and this Matilda Honeycutt, if that
is
her real name, is up to something. Mark my words, boy. She’s dangerous.”

“So that’s all you have?” Tommy asked. “A stranger in weird clothes, a few half-hatched hunches, some innuendo, and small-town suspicion?”

“I’d say that’s enough. Besides, you’re the newspaperman.” The councilman slowly pushed himself to his feet. “You’re supposed to be out looking for the news—
you
get the story.”

“It seems obvious you’re miffed that this woman outbid you for the Barton Building.” Tommy stood too, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. “If she really did get it for a song, why don’t you simply offer her a fair price? For all you know, she might be happy to make a few extra bucks and head off on her happy way.”

“Hmm . . .” The councilman rubbed his chin as if seriously considering this option. “I suppose I could try to offer her a bit more. If nothing else, it might be interesting to see her reaction.”

“By the way, Councilman, I’m curious what you planned to do with the building if you’d gotten it.” Tommy walked his visitor through the building toward the front door. “Was it for investment purposes? Or did you have a particular business in mind?”

“I had a prospective client.” He coughed then cleared his throat. “Someone who’s wanted a prime piece of downtown real estate for quite some time.”

“You’re not talking about that big chain discount outfit that got turned down by the planning commission for a development over on—”

“Business is business, Tommy. And times are hard. I expect that some folks in town might’ve appreciated a store where your dollar stretches a ways further.”

“Even if that particular discount chain ran some of our respected and longtime businessmen and retailers right into the poorhouse?”

The councilman shrugged as they reached the door. “Whether or not you plan to do any investigative reporting on Ms. Honeycutt, I will continue my pursuit for the truth, Tommy. I will get to the bottom of this.”

“If I see there’s a real story in it—other than an intro paragraph in
Business Beat
—I’ll be sure to cover it. It’s not like I’d intentionally overlook an actual news story. Not in a sleepy town like this anyway. Don’t you worry.” Tommy smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Good to know. I’ll be sure to keep you apprised if I learn anything of interest.”

“Appreciate it.” Tommy watched Councilman Snider’s eyes light up as he told Helen goodbye. He wouldn’t be surprised if old George was thinking about asking her for a date, but he would be shocked if Helen said yes. Helen was a fairly sensible woman and like an aunt to Tommy. He’d known her all his life and was thankful when she came to work at the paper when his mom got too sick to come in.

Fortunately, the councilman just politely tipped his head to Helen and quietly exited.

“Is George bent out of shape over losing that Barton Building?” Helen asked as they watched the councilman look both ways before he crossed the street.

“Oh yeah. You could say that.”

“Are you really going to write a story?”

Tommy chuckled. “There’s no story, Helen. Not unless I finally decide to take up fiction. As much as I’ve always wanted to pen that great American novel, I don’t see George Snider as the protagonist type.”

She shook her finger at him. “You should write a novel, Tommy. For years I’ve been telling you that very thing.”

“One of these days,” he called over his shoulder as he returned to his office. He went inside and just sat there for several minutes. Staring blankly at the clutter on his desk, he wondered what it would feel like to actually attempt a novel. He’d dreamed of it for years, but the tyranny of the urgent always kept him back. Like today. He still had several articles to edit and an editorial to finish, and he hadn’t even begun the piece on Coach Harper’s last year of football at PSHS.

Just like he did every day, Tommy opened his laptop and told himself it was time to get to work. Although he still doubted there was much of a story regarding this Honeycutt woman, he did make a note to look into it later—after this week’s
Spout
went to press tomorrow evening.

He made a note to first verify that the sale was firm and had actually cleared with the city, and then he’d find out what kind of business, if any, this woman planned to open up. If nothing else, he might run a human interest story on her next week—as filler and to appease Councilman Snider. Besides, Tommy actually was curious. What could possibly motivate an outsider to relocate to a hick town like Parrish Springs? And why would an old woman want to buy a decrepit building? He did feel relieved that the councilman had been outbid. It was no secret that this economy had been tough on local businesses. Many were fighting for their lives and livelihoods already, and the cheap goods at a discount chain store would’ve only made things worse. What had Councilman Snider been thinking about anyway? Probably the almighty dollar—in his own pocket!