I shook my head. “What?”
He gestured impatiently toward a five-gallon glass jar in the corner. It was almost full. “That’s what ah’ve collected walking around town. A penny here, a dime there. It adds up. You need to keep yer eyes open for the things that most people miss.”
Cyril, the born scavenger. But he had a point. How many people bothered to stop and pick up a penny these days?
“Ah’ll go make the bloody tea.” He stomped off into the back room.
I stared at the jar of change, which must have been worth a few hundred dollars. What would a scavenger notice that other people wouldn’t?
Things on the ground, things out of place, things hidden from the casual observer.
I wandered over to the wall with the license plates. It seemed as though he had one from every state. The rolling motion beer clock was mesmerizing, and I watched the sun set over the lake scene a few times before I finally sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. There was a rectangular tin with a picture of Queen Elizabeth II on the lid.
I lifted it an inch and gasped. Chocolate toffee bars. My most favorite of Martha’s treats.
I jumped as Cyril suddenly reappeared. “Um—I was admiring your biscuit tin here. Don’t suppose you’d consider selling it?”
He slammed a mug down on the desk in front of me.
I gritted my teeth. If anyone had the right to an attitude, it was me. Those were my favorite treats after all. “What’s the problem, Cyril? You seem out of sorts today.”
He didn’t answer, but glanced at his crossword puzzle. I grinned as realization sunk in. He was crabby because he hadn’t been able to finish it before I arrived. There was even a thesaurus sitting next to the newspaper. I took a sip of the tea. It was as full-bodied and sweet as I remembered. “Thanks. This is delicious.”
His lips turned up slightly. “It’s what we call builder’s grade tea in England. Strong enough to put hair on yer chest.”
A black shadow flew past my shoulder and landed on the desk.
“Hey!” I ducked too late and liquid splashed over the side of my mug. I shook the drips off my hand onto the floor. “What the—”
“This is His Nibs, or Nibs for short.” Cyril had a real smile now as he petted the cat that nudged up against its owner and regarded me with dark yellow eyes.
Somehow I’d never pictured Cyril taking care of anything or anyone else.
There you go, jumping to conclusions again, Daisy Buchanan. A real detective would look at all the facts . . .
With that, my thoughts spun back to Angus. “Damn, I just wish I could figure this whole murder thing out and get Angus off the hook. I have the feeling that the answer is right in front of me, but I can’t see it.”
“If wishes were hosses, beggars ’ud ride.” Cyril gave the cat a rub between its ears. “Now, whatever happened with that narky woman with the bee in her bonnet?”
“Who? Oh, you mean Fiona Adams. She’s not so bad. She taught me a lot about the pens. I got an inkling of why they’re so valuable.” I realized what I’d just said and snickered. “Inkling. Pardon the pun.”
Cyril shook his head mournfully as if doubting my ability to size up people. “If I were you, I’d go back to the scene of the crime. Where Jimmy popped his clogs. Keep yer eyes open, but more importantly, your mind.”
“Okay. Want some help with that puzzle?”
He shoved the newspaper toward me so violently that the paper smushed together like a concertina.
I smiled, smoothed out the pages, and selected the largest chocolate toffee bar I could find out of the tin.
*
“It was a busy day at the store, and I did a lot of prep for the open house, which was quite a feat with a head that felt about three times its size and equally heavy. Determination was another good quality for a teacher, in a profession that was not for the weak of spirit. God knows teachers didn’t do it for the accolades—or the money.
During a break in the action, I called Betty and asked her if she’d be willing to let us use the auction grounds for the country fair.
“Of course, Daisy. There’s no auction scheduled for July Fourth weekend, so you could hold it then if you like.”
“Sounds great. And that would be a month before the 4-H fair, so it’s perfect. Thanks so much, Betty. Hey, I’m going to visit Angus tomorrow. Do you want me to pick you up?”
“Oh, no, that’s okay. You go on without me.”
“How about a ride to the hearing on Thursday? You are going to that, aren’t you?”
There was a slight pause while I felt my blood pressure ratcheting up. She’d better damn well be going.