“Mrs. Peaselee, your nephew here has admitted responsibility for all the acts of vandalism at the post office,” Frank said. “He has broken several laws, state and federal.”
“What acts?” Lucinda asked, her voice unsteady.
Frank named them off, finishing with “obstructing a public walkway, endangering public safety, interfering with the United States Postal Service.”
Apparently Lucinda hadn’t known about Davie’s nighttime activities. Her face got quite pale.
Davie looked up. “I was only trying to help, Aunt Lucy.”
“Be quiet,” she snapped. She raised her chin and glared at Frank, hoping the Peaselee money and position would solve the problem. “Well then, I’ll pay his fine.”
Frank was ready for that. “It’s more serious than that, Mrs. Peaselee. Davie may have to go to jail.”
Now family disgrace was staring her in the face. The haughty expression disappeared, and she sat down in the nearest chair. “To jail? Davie in jail?”
“It depends on whether Mrs. Otis here and the Postal Service want to press charges.”
I found a little room off the kitchen that might have been a butler’s pantry in the old days. Now it served as an office where Lucinda kept the records of her tenants and her rents. On the desk was a Smith Corona 600 typewriter.
I went back to the parlor and took a seat. I nodded at Thelma to let her know it was her turn at bat.
“Lucinda,” she said, “you’ve been playing a dirty little game. You’ve been trying to get my post office pulled out of Fountain so you can rent the building to somebody else.” Thelma was out of her chair and standing in front of Lucinda. She handed her some of the postcards. “And if these didn’t work, you were going to ask Uncle Sam for more money when the lease comes up next month. You can’t play both ends against the middle, Lucy. You try it and you’ll get your tits caught in a wringer!”
Lucinda Peaselee was speechless. Nobody ever used her first name, and nobody ever talked to her that way.
In a moment she found her voice.
“I never wrote those cards! I never did any such thing!”
I was looking at Bonnie Mae, at that monstrous head of yellow hair and the lavish makeup. Nancy’s words came back: “Bonnie Mae wants to open her own beauty shop.”
I stood up.
“Bonnie Mae, you typed those cards, didn’t you?” I asked casually. “And you had Davie mail them from out of town, didn’t you?”
A hand went up to pat her hair, and she looked at me defiantly. “What if I did?”
Lucinda tried to regain a little control. “Child, I will not tolerate that tone of voice in my...”
Her niece turned to her. “You said you wanted the post office out of there, Aunt Lucy. You said so yourself.”
“That was just business, child, you wouldn’t understand.”
“I think she does understand, Mrs. Peaselee,” I said. “But you never told her what you really have in mind for the building. As Mrs. Otis says, you’ve been playing both ends against the middle.
“You knew you would never get the convenience store. Your building isn’t on Main Street, and there isn’t room for gas pumps. You have been dickering with Harvest Bank to put a branch in Fountain. You’ve offered them the post office building. To sweeten the pot, you’ve offered them the lot next door so they can have a drive-up window or something.”
I lobbed the grenade Frank had found yesterday. “We know you paid two thousand dollars for a sixty-day option on that lot.”
Nobody said anything. The look on Lucinda’s face told me I had put it all together. “If the bank goes for your deal, you’ll cut the post office loose. If not, you’ll try to hold Albany up for more rent.”
Thelma made an impolite sound. “That’s be the day pigs fly and hell freezes,” she said.
I wasn’t quite finished. “But, Lucinda, Bonnie Mae did a good job with those postcards, and she saved you money on the postage. She’s a smart young lady, and she’s got her own reasons for wanting to see the post office out of that building.” Everybody except Davie looked at the girl. “Tell your aunt what you want to do with it.” I sat down to let her have the floor.
Bonnie Mae stood up and faced her aunt. She gave me a brief smile for my introduction. The big moment was here; her bid for independence.
“I was fixin’ to tell you, Aunt Lucy. I need that building for my new beauty shop. It’s going to be Bonnie’s Beauty Boutique. Don’t you like the name?”
“I know where I can get my ’quipment on time, and I’ll pay you rent just as soon as I get ’stablished. That’s a good location, easy for folks to get to. They taught us lots of good ideas in school, and I’ll give little Miss Irene Townsend a run for her money. I might even start givin’ men’s haircuts. It’s just old fuds go to that Charlie Pike’s place — no offense, sir — and I bet I can beat his price. Oh yeah, Davie did them things at night just to help us git the post office out of there, Aunt Lucy. Weren’t his fault, really.”
She paused and looked around at her audience.
“So,” she finished, “the sooner the post office is out of there, the sooner I kin get started.”
At first Lucinda had looked shocked — this was mutiny — but now there was something like pride on her face. Her nephew Davie would never hope for more than a blue ribbon for his rabbits at the country fair, but her niece was aiming higher. Bonnie Mae wanted to leave the nest, try her wings, take her chance.
I suppose in every generation a young Peaselee has wanted to strike out on his own. Each one has been asked the same question: “What are you going to use for money?”
I suspect that each budding businessman has given the same answer. Bonnie Mae lifted her chin and faced her aunt. “You got plenty, Aunt Lucy. You kin lend me some.”
In my book ambition always wins over elocution. I decided it was time to wind things up here and leave the Peaselees to what would be a long and private family talk.
“Mrs. Otis, do you want to press charges against Davie?” I asked.
Thelma shook her head.
“Davie,” I said, “tell Mrs. Otis you’re sorry.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Otis,” he said meekly. “Do I still have my job?”
“I’ll think about it,” Thelma said. “Be sure to clean up that straw.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Frank removed the handcuffs, and our little group was ready to leave. But I was still in my oratorical mode; I had two last thoughts to deliver.
“All right, Mrs. Peaselee, here’s what I think you should do. If the Postal Service offers you a satisfactory lease, take it. Then go to the bank and offer to build them a building on that vacant lot; built to their specifications.
“They’ll be happy with a modular type building like they have over in Ray Brook. That shouldn’t be too much of an investment for a woman like yourself, and you can be sure of a very long lease.”
Lucinda nodded slowly; the wheels were turning under that grey hair.
“Look, Bonnie Mae,” I said, “there’s a nice little house for rent right down on Willow Street. That’s a good location, and you could put your shop downstairs. I bet you and your aunt could get it real cheap.”
There was a smart kid under that king-size beehive. She gave me a wink and a nod.
That was all; Thelma and Frank and I moved towards the door. A voice from the other side of the room stopped us. “Just a minute, please.”
We turned around.
Lucinda Peaselee stood up. “I’m truly sorry for all this, Mrs. Otis,” she said formally.
Thelma gave a little wave. “No real harm done,” she said. She took a step toward the door but turned back. “Look, Lucy, if you really want more rent for that building, don’t beat around the goddamn bush. Go down to Albany and see the real estate section. Tell ’em I sent you.”