The Mccaffertys: Matt. Lisa Jackson
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And not a minute too soon,” he added with a leer, “judging by the looks of her. Lucia’s got a bun in the oven.”
Maggie felt a sharp distaste for this overweight man with his narrow eyes and shiny red face. But he was clearly disposed to talk, and she needed information, so she forced herself to smile casually.
“Mrs. Whitley is a very lovely woman,” she said, examining a rack of grocery and food items that stood near the front desk.
“She’s the principal of the middle school, and her husband is one of the teachers on staff,” her informant said, as if this was a bit of juicy gossip.
Maggie glanced around at the drugstore, which looked and smelled like some vanished bit of childhood. She breathed in the scent of polished wooden floors, soap and lemon oil, dust and perfume and warmth. The place itself seemed ageless and comforting, even though its proprietor made her uneasy.
She found a couple of cans of ruinously expensive cat food and took them to the counter, rummaging in her bag. “So that woman’s the school principal,” she said, still thinking about the graceful blonde in the scarf. “I’d really like to meet her sometime.”
“Well, you better hurry, then, because Lucia won’t be around long,” he said with a wink. “The school’s probably shutting down.”
“Really?” Maggie offered a bill and stood looking at the man. “Why?”
He shrugged his fat shoulders and rang up the purchase. “Taxes are too high. Folks know we can’t afford that school anymore, and they want it closed. We’re voting on it next month.”
“Where will the students go?”
“On a bus,” the druggist said carelessly, “to the middle school over in the next town.”
“Is this common knowledge in town?” Maggie asked. “About the school closure?”
“Oh, sure. Everybody’s talking about it.” He leaned across the counter with a confiding look. “But me…well, I got kind of an inside track on things, you might say.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, because my wife is the chair of the school board.”
Maggie searched her memory, trying again to recall the careful notes she’d made.
Gloria Wall, she remembered. Chair of the Crystal Creek School Board, and wife of…
“So you would be Ralph Wall?” she asked with a polite smile.
“That’s right, I sure would.” The druggist gave her a gratified smile and squared his shoulders a little. “And your name is…?”
“Margaret Embree. I’m here in town for a while on business.”
“Movie business?” he suggested with an avid expression.
“I beg your pardon?” Maggie said, startled.
“We’ve all seen that big Mercedes you drive around in, with the California plates. Folks reckon you’re planning to shoot a movie here in Crystal Creek, the same way they did over in Wimberley last year, and make us all into big stars.”
Maggie considered his words, and decided that for the moment this was as good a cover as any.
“So would you like to be a movie star, Mr. Wall?” she asked.
“If it pays good enough.” His grin faded. He began to arrange the bright rows of gum and chocolate bars under the glass counter. “God knows, we could use some money around here.”
“How would you feel,” Maggie asked carefully, “if somebody who was making a movie in town should want to buy your drugstore?”
His close-set eyes sharpened with interest. “Why would he need to buy my store?”
“Well,” Maggie said, improvising rapidly, “you know, a lot of big production companies like to own the properties where they’re shooting, just to avoid possible legal complications.”
“But what would they do with my store after the movie was over?”
Maggie took a deep breath, a little appalled at herself for even broaching the topic. Hopefully the man would scoff at her suggestion, and then she could report to Natasha that the whole idea was impossible.
“I suppose,” she said with deliberate casualness, “the producer would buy out your property for cash. Then if you chose, he’d just hold on to it and rent it back to you. I think that’s how it works.”
His face took on a startled, cunning look. “You mean he’d give me cash for this place? Full market value? And then afterward he’d let me keep running my business like nothing ever happened?”
Maggie nodded. “And of course the new owner would be responsible for taxes and improvements to the property. Your only requirement would be the payment of a nominal rent.”
Ralph Wall’s cheeks glistened with excitement. Maggie could almost smell the scent of greed exuding from him, and had to force herself not to back away from the counter.
“So how many businesses would your movie producer want to be buying this way?” he asked. “Just my drugstore, or what?”
“I think it’s possible he might be interested in the entire downtown area,” Maggie said. “Possibly even a number of the residential properties.”
“But…” Ralph Wall stared at her, his hands gripping the edge of the counter. “But something like that…it’d have to cost thousands of dollars. Maybe…” His voice was hushed. “Maybe millions.”
“These days, even the smallest movies have multimillion-dollar budgets, Mr. Wall.”
She turned to go, but he reached out and clutched her arm.
Maggie paused, hating the feeling of his hand against her jacket.
“Look, Ms. Embree, is this on the level? This movie producer might really give me cash value for my drugstore, and then let me stay here and run it?”
“Does that really appeal to you?” Maggie asked with genuine curiosity. “I thought people always dream of owning their business themselves.”
“Not when they’re so strapped for cash they can hardly turn around, like most of us are in this town,” he said with a dark, bitter look. “Working for somebody else and having him take over the money worries sounds pretty damn good to me.”
There was no doubting his eagerness. If other people in Crystal Creek turned out to be this anxious to sell, Natasha’s ludicrous plan might actually be feasible.
“It’s not something I’m free to discuss at the moment, Mr. Wall.” Maggie dropped her voice, shook her arm free of his grasp and glanced toward the door. “And I’ll also have to ask you not to talk with anybody else about this, please.”
The fat man licked his lips, staring at her. “Not a word,” he breathed in a hoarse whisper. “I won’t say a word.”
“Thank you.”
Maggie headed for the door with her sack of cat food, glancing over her shoulder. The druggist already had his back to her and was dialing the phone, his body trembling with excitement.
Frowning, she strolled down the moonlit street toward the hotel, brooding over her first testing of the waters in Crystal Creek.
Ralph Wall had the look of an incorrigible gossip. Within a day or two, the story of the rich movie producer buying up real estate was probably going to be all over Crystal Creek, and then the discussion and argument would begin.
And judging by what Maggie now knew about the financial state of this town, maybe she wouldn’t even have to seek people out.
They would be coming to her, she thought, her stomach tightening with concern. All she had to do was wait a while, and