Children Lost on The Darkest Of Nights:
The Legend of Peg Powler
(A Sewing Box Mystery)
Chapter 1: Friday, November 1, 1991, 1:51 am
Chapter 2: Saturday October 29, 2011, 11:37 am
Chapter 3: Sunday October 30, 2011, 10:30 am
Chapter 4, Monday, October 31, 2012, 8:01 am, Halloween
Passing beneath the heavy wrought iron gateway designating the entrance to Main Street, Dorie again asked, “Where are you taking me?” Only this time, she sounded a tad scared. The gateway reminded Missy of the entrance to an old cemetery, so she could definitely understand her mother’s trepidation. Winding their way into town, Missy spied the yellow brick of the antique store, and just beyond it, the sign for Dale’s Diner. It was early, but Dorie, having rejected Jeanette’s offer of Cheetos, was still complaining that she was hungry. Missy figured Dale’s Diner was where they should stop first. It would serve as a good test, to see if Dorie could suppress her need for constant attention and blend in with the locals.
But Jeanette had other ideas. “Pull in here,” she ordered. Her aunt tugged at the steering wheel, causing the car to cross the lane of traffic and veer to the right.
“Hands off the wheel, woman!” Missy slammed on the breaks as the tires bit into the gravel parking lot of Ma and Pa’s gas station with a crunch. “What are you doing?”
“You were going right past Sam’s place. We need to stop in.”
“But I don’t need any gas,” Missy reasoned.
“Doesn’t matter. When we come to St. Petersburg, we stop at Sam’s place first. Remember how helpful he was last time?”
Missy considered this. Her aunt had a point. “You’re right. Let’s fill ‘er up.” Missy drove until the tires met with the black hose on the ground which set off a bell inside the store, alerting Sam of their arrival. Every time she saw the building’s vintage storefront, it made her think of Little House on the Prairie. Within seconds, the familiar twang of the rusted screen door spring sounded, and Sam, looking like an 1890’s prospector in his soiled Osh Kosh B’Gosh’s, appeared. Recognizing the vehicle, he stopped dead in his tracks as his mouth transformed into a sly, knowing smile.
“Well, I’ll be. Look who’s come back to town,” he shouted, before approaching the car.
Jeanette flew out of the car and met the old man halfway with a hug. “How you doing, Sam. Did you think we’d forgotten you?”
“Hell, no. And mark my words, the rest of this town ain’t forgot you either. What kind of trouble are you up to this time, young lady?”
Jeanette giggled.
‘Really?’ thought Missy, as she rose from her seat and peered at the pair from over the roof of the car. Sam looked every year his age, which Missy guessed was somewhere in the mid-eighties. Of course, her aunt was a woman in her mid-fifties. Is that what it took to bring out the girl in Jeanette? An older man? Maybe it was the beard. Or the overhauls.
“Missy, come over here and say ‘hi’ to Sam,” insisted Jeanette.
Missy hesitated. Dorie did not. She shot out of the car and was at her sister’s side in no time, her hand extended. Maybe the whole appreciation-for-older-men thing had skipped a generation. Missy joined them and shook Sam’s hand. “Good to see you, Sam. How have you been?”
“Can’t complain. Oh, I could, but won’t get me nothing.” With a wink of his eye he added, “Now, you, you look pretty as a picture.” Missy’s brow furled. She very much doubted that. Still, it was nice to hear.
“Missy, take the compliment.” It was her mother.
What? Was Missy suddenly thirteen years old, or something? She smiled politely and thanked Sam, before glaring meaningfully at Dorie.
Dorie met her head-on. “It pays to be cordial, Missy,” she purred. “Okay, I’m heading in to see what the locals have to offer.”
As she trounced off, Sam turned to Jeanette and advised, “She might not want to do that. Hedda’s behind the counter, and she don’t cotton much to strangers.”
“That’s okay,” said Jeanette, “A little taste of rural hospitality might be good for what ails that gal.”
“She your sister?”
“Only in the sense that we share the same mother and father.”
Sam failed to catch the humor. “Huh. I was sitting by the door when I saw you pull up. I high-tailed it out here so’s Hedda wouldn’t find out yer here. If she knew, she’d be on the phone in no time.” Sam made this sound like a bad thing.
“Who would she tell?” Missy was curious as to who would object to their presence in town.
“Probably just the gals down at Pearl’s.”
The name didn’t ring a bell. “Pearl’s?”
“Pearl’s House of Curls. Avoid that place if you can. Nothing but a den of viperous gossips. Got no men, so they got nothing better to do.” He then made a move toward the car. “Fill ‘er up for ya?”
“Sure thing.” While the feminist in Missy wanted to make a point of Sam’s casual chauvinism, she decided to let it slide. He was an old man; a different generation. Also, she was a guest in this town and needed to keep that in mind, especially if she hoped to learn more about this Peg Powler character.
“Step on over to the pump so we can talk while I take care of your car.” The ladies complied. Missy wondered if this was Sam’s way of ensuring they didn’t have a run in with Hedda.
Jeanette must have been of the same mind, for as she moseyed over to the pumps, she asked, “Sam, if you don’t mind me asking, you don’t seem to care much for Hedda, so why do you keep her on?”
He wouldn’t look Jeanette in the eye as he spoke, but replied with a mischievous smile on his face, “Oh, let’s just say she might know a thing or two that makes her worth her keep. You know, she wasn’t always such a sour heifer. I think it was losing her youngest boy that turned her.”
This surprised both women. From what Missy recalled of the lumbering Hedda, she didn’t exactly seem the nurturing type. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Was he ill?”
Sam fixed Missy with a discerning gaze, as if trying to decide whether or not to confide in her. He must have found her trustworthy because he answered, “Nope, disappeared. Nine years ago, now. She’s given up hope. As has the whole town. No idea what happened to him and nobody talks about it no more.” This last point was delivered with more than a hint of a suggestion. Jeanette and Missy exchanged glances. Did this have anything to do with Abe Longren and that whole child porn ring? Jeanette shook her head slightly, and Missy knew better than to ask any questions. It was also clear Sam was taking his own advice, for he was already on to a new topic. “So’s what brings you to town today? More business with the Sherriff about that Arneson kid?”
Ah, Sheriff Paul Muntz. Missy hoped to get through this entire visit without saying so much as ‘hello’ to that man. “No. Actually, today we’re here to do a little research about someone else. Sam, have you ever heard of a woman named Peg Powler?”
Sam froze. Without a word, he replaced the pump’s handle, put the gas cap back on. Moving between the women, as he began walking toward the station, over his shoulder he said, “You can pay Hedda inside. Have a good day now.”
Not the reaction either woman had expected. Missy felt chastised, but Jeanette was not about to let the topic go. “Sam! What’s wrong? We just asked…”
And with that, the old man turned on his heel with a quickness that belied his age before steamrolling his way right up into Jeanette’s face. He was clearly upset. “Now what do you want to know about Peg Powler for? Huh?” he demanded. “Aren’t you both a little old for fairy tales?”
“Whoa. Sam! Calm down. We’re curious, that’s all. We know about the old legend, but people around here? They talk about her like she’s a real person.”
Sam took a moment, and with a sideways glance toward the store's front door, he put his emotions in check. “And, to some, I suppose she is. But it’s nonsense; their way of trying to explain away things they don’t understand and make excuses for the things they do.” He was silent for a moment and then seemed to do a total about-face. “Know what?” he stealthily asked. “I guess it won’t do no harm to look into it. Start at the Oswig Museum in the town hall. Then try city hall. 1931 would be a good year to start.”
Missy's head snapped to; she was having trouble keeping up. “What’s so special about 1931?”
In a muted tone, Sam confided, “If you have it in your heart to solve something, that might be a good year to start. I can’t say more.”
Missy was about to press the old man for more information, but her aunt stepped in and put an end to the conversation, “Well, we appreciate your help, Sam. We always do. What do we owe you?”
Sam was about to answer, when Dorie reappeared, the screen door slamming behind her with a bang. “Missy,” she sang. “I need some money. That woman in there won’t take my credit card.”
Without thinking, Missy moved to the car to get her purse. Dorie was soon at her side, and since there was the car separating them from Jeanette and Sam, Missy risked asking, “What’s wrong with your credit card?”
Dorie batted her eyelashes and waved her hand dismissively, “Not important… just... something wrong, I suppose. You know... technology. Right? Can I have some money?”
“How much do you need?”
Dorie’s eyes were busy scanning the interior of Missy’s bag. She smiled widely. “Oh, a twenty will do.”
Sam, who was watching all this quite intently, inquired, “Is there something wrong with the machine?”
Before Missy could answer, Dorie replied, “No, no… it’s just... Well, the name on the card doesn’t match my I.D., so she won’t take it. No problem. My daughter’s got cash.” Missy held a twenty-dollar bill in hand. Dorie snatched it up and said, “Thank you!” before turning on her heels and racing back toward the store.
But Jeanette was not about to let her sister get away that easily. “Dorie!” she barked. “What name is on the card?”
Dorie stopped in her tracks. With a smile as big as Texas, she demurely turned around to address her sister. “Does it matter? Now, excuse me, Jeanette, the lady’s waiting.”
Jeanette repeated, “Whose name is on the card?”
Exasperated and cornered, like a 12 year-old who’s broken curfew, Dorie crumbled, “Oh, all right, it’s Paulo’s card. He gave it to me to use. So, in that sense, it’s my card. I’m not trying to pull a fast one, or anything.” And with that, she was back in the store.
Missy felt her stomach clench. Oh, well, so much for that new-found respect. She took note of the amount on the pump and pulled the cash from her billfold. Handing it to Sam, she said, “Here Sam, that ought to cover it. Thanks for the great service.”
Sam, who was still looking in the direction Dorie had gone, turned and looked Missy straight in the eye before saying, “Thank you. One more word of advice? While you’re in town? Make sure to keep an eye on that one.”
Missy felt herself flush. She didn’t have a response. But, of course, Jeanette did...
“Don’t worry, Sam. Where that one’s concerned, we’re way ahead of you.”
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1 comment:
Paulo?
Really? Oh the drama in the family....!
XOXO
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