A Brush with Death: A Penny Brannigan Mystery - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,74
bag of painting materials she had collected from the laneway. She waited until Davies was finished with his call and then held the bag open so he could see inside it.
“Look at the mess they made of my case. And not only that,” she said, pulling a few pages of sketching paper from the bag, “they ruined my afternoon’s work. It took Alwynne and me hours to hike to that clearing and back, and I spent a couple of hours on those sketches. And wait until you see what those nasty little beggers did to it!”
She turned the sketch over, with a smile, and there, in all the red, blue, yellow, green, and black glory of Winsor & Newton paints, was a clear tire imprint.
Davies laughed.
“I hope you’ll let me buy you a new case and set of paints. The boys at the lab are going to love this.”
Nineteen
On Monday, Penny made the familiar journey to Llandudno, and this time she stopped at the beauty supply depot to pick up the candy-coloured nail polishes Eirlys wanted so badly. The yellows, turquoises, and bubble-gum pinks made Penny cringe, but if that’s what her young customers wanted, who was she to disagree? She didn’t mind about something as trivial as nail polish colours, but on the matter of the tanning bed she was holding firm. No tanning.
Holding an inexpensive bouquet of carnations under her arm, she climbed the stairs of the Sunset Villas Retirement and Nursing Home. The door was locked, but a receptionist looked up when she saw Penny and pressed the buzzer that unlocked the door.
Penny smiled her thanks as she entered the reception area. It was meant to be tastefully and reassuringly decorated in timeless floral prints, but the area looked outdated and horribly overdone. Farther down the hall that stretched in front of her she could see elderly people, some walking about aimlessly with empty, vacant looks, holding onto the rail that ran along the walls, others dozing in parked wheelchairs. Trying to assume a briskness that would convey she knew where she was going and what she was doing, she headed off in the direction of the seniors.
“Excuse me!” the receptionist demanded. “Who are you here to see?”
Penny shifted the flowers under her arm, turned around, and approached the desk.
“I’m here to see Millicent Mayhew.” She hoped she looked a little more confident than she felt.
“Just a minute while I check. Are you on today’s visitors list?”
“No, I’m not. I didn’t know I had to get on a list. I thought that as I was in the neighbourhood, I could just drop in.”
The receptionist softened. “Yes, of course you can. It’s just that if we know in advance, we can put you on our list. We like to know who’s coming and going. I expect you’ll find Miss Mayhew in the dayroom. First door on your right. Please sign in here and then go on through.”
“Thank you.”
Penny did as she was asked, then retraced her steps and headed back along the corridor. You never forget the smell of a nursing home, she thought. When she had first arrived in Llanelen all those years ago, she had earned a bit of extra money giving manicures to the ladies in the seniors’ home. Word spread, and the manicures became so popular that she was soon able to open her own business. She wondered if anyone ever came here to do manicures and made a mental note to suggest the idea to Victoria.
Admitting that her heart wasn’t really into weekday sleuthing because she felt anxious if she was too far away from the building site, Victoria had decided to stay behind in Llanelen. There were contractors to oversee, materials to monitor, invoices to prepare, and all the rest of it. She had also reminded Penny that they now had two businesses to run—one in development and one that needed to be generating income.
It wasn’t fair to dump all the work on Eirlys’s young shoulders, she said, adding that she hoped Penny would get her investigation wrapped up soon so she could focus on her work.
“I didn’t sign up for this, you know,” Victoria had warned her. Penny had apologized and promised to get down to business right away. Or at least on Tuesday, at the latest.
She entered the dayroom and hesitated. She had no idea what Millicent Mayhew looked like.
“You look lost, young lady,” said a man in a wheelchair near the door. “Who are you looking for?”