Floozy?
Sometimes I wondered what century Vera lived in. No doubt the town’s crier century.
Vera wasn’t finished giving her strong opinion. “Thomas could do so much better. Though not with Amy. Beau is perfect for her and Amy better not be foolish enough to mess up their relations?—”
“What banks?” I asked, interrupting her.
“Why should I tell you? You’ll run off and report to your dad or that FBI agent who has the hots for you.”
I rolled my eyes and wondered how Amy survived living next to the woman or how Bill could date her, for that matter.
Bill came to my rescue. “That’s no new news for Pepper to report to her dad or FBI Agent Stone. They already have a list of box holders. How else would they know who to interview?”
Vera glared at him, her nose pinching tight.
“What’s the harm in telling Pepper which banks? She is good at solving mysteries and just might solve this one before another bank gets hit if you tell her.”
“It could be just the pieces I need,” I said, backing Bill up.
“I saw her at Milton and Chesterfield,” Vera spit out as if it pained her to do so. “And Willow Lake as well. Lola makes a point of speaking with the Regional Bank Inspector, Henry Walker—fiftyish, receding hairline, slim.” She shook her head. She’s always flirtatious with him; smiling, laughing, standingclose to him, and Walker eats it up, the fool. P.T. Barnum was right. There is a sucker born every minute.”
A centuries-old quote. How old was Vera?
I assumed that a Regional Bank Inspector would have access to all the banks in the area, but I’d have to make sure of that. That was confirmed sooner than I expected.
“Lola also just happens to show up at the other banks when Walker visits for state inspections,” Vera said and glanced at her watch.
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“I watch and listen,” Vera said, then turned to Bill. “I’ve got to get going. See you for supper?”
“Blueberry pie for dessert?” he asked as if his mouth watered for it.
“Three different ones I need your honest opinion on,” Vera said.
“And you’ll get it from me,” Bill assured her with a wide smile.
Vera might be a cantankerous, old woman, but she made the best, award-winning blueberry pie anyone has ever tasted. She has won the pie-baking contest every year for years now for the best pie contest at the Labor Day Festival.
I went to see if she needed another tester, but she shut me up before I could ask.
“No, you cannot test my pies,” were her parting words as she walked out the door.
Afraid she’d be able to hear him when she was already halfway down the street, Bill whispered, “She made a blueberry pie for Beau. I’ll make sure to tell him to share it with you.”
I intended to make sure he did since he owed me for helping to settle the problem between him and Amy,
“Anything you can tell me that might help, Bill?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I can’t see anyone being interested in Vera’s notebooks. They just contain the everyday comings and goings of people and incidents that happen mostly in Willow Lake.” He chuckled. “She’s got several notebooks just on you, Pepper.”
“So, she’s told me. With so many notebooks, how did you ever get a big enough safe to keep them in?”
Bill cast a quick glance out the window as if worried Vera might show up, then turned to me.
“Vera is only worried about certain notebooks, ones she doesn’t even let me read. Don’t get me wrong, she wouldn’t want any stolen, but these particular ones—” He shook his head. “She’d really be upset if she lost them.”
Okay, now that got me curious. What was Vera hiding?
