Holly Banks Full of Angst (Village of Primm, #1)(61)
“Jack, I feel horrible,” Holly breathed into the phone, leaning her head against the steering wheel of the rental car.
“Then come home.”
“I can’t. I have to at least make an appearance.”
“That’s crazy. Come home.”
Holly took another swig of her Gatorade. “Don’t say that. I’m not crazy.” Pa-leez don’t tell me I’m crazy. Holly paused a moment. Should I tell him? Oh, what the heck. He dropped a bomb on me today. Offshore shell companies? That’s crazy. “I think I’m being targeted.”
“Targeted?” He sounded concerned. This “research” he was brought to Primm to investigate wasn’t dangerous, was it? Because Holly expected a different reaction than the one she got. “Targeted by whom?”
“Whom? You sound so formal. The president of the PTA. I think she’s out to get me. I know she is.”
“Hold on.” Holly could hear him walking away from the TV. He must have been going to a quieter place in the house, away from Ella. “What do you mean she’s targeting you?”
“She’s targeting me. But don’t worry. I’m starting to learn how she works. You have to know your enemy to defeat your enemy.”
FADE IN:
EXT. DARK ALLEY BEHIND SCHOOL — NIGHT
Shot of MARY-MARGARET emerging from shadows, stepping into the dim light cast by an exterior lamp above an empty soccer field. HOLLY readies for battle.
MARY-MARGARET
(holding a plate of cookies, heat rising from them like a smoking gun)
Cookies?
HOLLY
(sinister laughing)
Who do you think I am? Cookie Monster?
“What happened?” Jack asked.
“She planted that bogus school supply list in Ella’s backpack thinking it’ll break me.”
“School supply list.”
“Yes,” Holly told him. “It’s an awful list. You saw it.”
“O-kaaaaay.”
“Why’d you say it like that? I’m sure I’m not the only mom that’s ever felt a school supply list would do her in.” Her forehead felt hot, but Holly refused to let it get the best of her. She could see the side doors to Primm Academy, the doors that led to the cafeteria, where she’d confront Mary-Margaret about the supply list and stage her last stand, telling Mary-Margaret she wouldn’t be her secretary.
Leaning her chin against the top of the steering wheel, Holly gazed out at the school. It was breathtaking. Truly. “Primm Academy is so perfect. It’s like la-la land. The grounds are manicured; the moms are manicured. They served tilapia in the cafeteria today. Do kids eat tilapia? Ella doesn’t eat tilapia. She can’t even pronounce it.”
“Holly, come home. I’ll run a bath. You can unwind.”
“I’ll stay for ten minutes,” Holly told him. “I’m curious about scrapbooking, and I had such a horrible day; I kinda want to redeem myself.”
Out her car window, a few Scrapbooking Moms were unloading their supplies. At least Holly wasn’t the only one who was late. She wouldn’t mind being a Scrapbooking Mom. She’d always wanted to make a scrapbook for Ella but didn’t know where to start. “Jack? You said you were brought here to investigate three clients in Primm. Can you tell me who they are?”
“We’re on phones, Holly.”
“So? Who am I going to tell?”
“I could get in a lot of trouble.”
“Jack. We’re still using our Boulder City phone numbers. Our phones aren’t tapped. You’re paranoid.”
There was a long pause. And then he said, “Fine. But you have to keep this under wraps.” He drew in a long, slow breath and then exhaled. “Okay. There’s Edward T. Olive. Antiquities dealer. He’s British but has offices in Germany. Deals in maps, books, typewriters. That sort of thing. Owes large amounts of money to the wrong kind of people but always seems to squeak by because he has valuables from antiquity he can sell. Mostly black market stuff. Bethanny is handling his account. I do very little with him.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Didn’t think you would. And then there’s Merchant Meek Hopscotch the Third. Goes by ‘Meek.’ Has this huge dog. A Great Dane.”
“I’ve seen him,” Holly said. “On the way to the Topiary Park, the day Ella and I picked up Anna Wintour. Beautiful dog. Wow. I didn’t know that was Meek. But yeah, he took the trolley to the Topiary Park. And I think he had a typewriter with him.”
“That makes sense because Edward’s in town. When Edward needs money, he sells to Meek. When Meek needs money . . .”
“He launders—”
“Hollystop! Jeez-us. We’re on mobile phones.”
“Well, don’t yell at me. I’m sorry.” Holly’s stomach gurgled. She took another swig of Gatorade.
“The dog is interesting,” Jack said. “The whole family is interesting. Meek’s great-great-grandfather was one of the original planners of the Village of Primm—he designed the clock tower, the compass, and the town square—similar to what James Oglethorpe did for Savannah. Anyway, Meek is the sole heir to the Hopscotch fortune. He owns half the buildings in Primm, especially those that border the town square. First wife is dead; second wife hasn’t been heard from in years; third wife’s name is Bedelia. She’s a piece of work. But I’m fairly certain he’s either in love with the owner of the bookstore or thinks of her as his daughter because she’s half his age, and he’s always granting her special allowances. She buys all the books she wants and never pays rent, so I’m not sure what’s happening there. We’re having him followed.”