could claim that once Iâm on a case, I work it one hundred percent of the time. I could say it, but it wouldnât be true.
The visit to the store was necessary because I was out of coffee. And MacNaughtonâs. And the state liquor store is right across the street from Baileyâs parking lot.
So much for dedication.
To my credit, I did have my mind on the case. In fact, I was mentally going back over Bob Paysonâs interview, word for word, trying to see if there were any additional bits and pieces that could be pulled from what he had told me. I was so lost in thought, that I almost ran over the poor kid.
âWould you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?â
The girl standing in front of two cartons of cookies was around eleven or twelve years old. She had a mop of bright red curls that could have come straight from Little Orphan Annie. She also had an award-winning smile. Iâm a sucker for a smile. I stopped and reached for my wallet.
âHow much are they?â
âTwo fifty a box.â
âAnd what kinds do you have?â
She gave me the complete rundown. I took two boxes of Mints and handed her a twenty. She rummaged in a ragged manila envelope for change.
âDo you sell here often?â I asked.
âIâm here every day after school. My mom brings me over. I earn my way to camp by selling cookies.â
I felt my heartbeat quicken. Adrenaline does that. Itâs got nothing to do with heart disease. âWere you here last week?â
Handing me my change, she nodded. âAll last week and all this week. Itâs a good place.â
âYouâre serious about this, arenât you?â
âIâve signed up to sell one thousand boxes. That way my mom doesnât have to pay to send me to camp.â
She finished speaking and turned away from me to ask someone else. I had alreadybought. She couldnât afford to waste time with me at the expense of other potential paying customers. She homed in on a little old lady coming out of the store, carrying a cloth shopping bag filled with groceries.
âDid you save me some?â the woman asked, handing over the correct change.
âRight here,â the girl replied, picking up an orange box and tucking it inside the womanâs shopping bag. With the transaction complete, she turned back to me.
I took a wild stab in the dark. âWhatâs the most youâve ever sold at one time?â
She never batted an eyelash. âFifteen boxes.â
My heart did another little flip. I donât believe in coincidences. Itâs an occupational hazard. âNo kidding. When?â
âLast week. A man and a woman bought fifteen boxes. They wrote a check.â
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a woman emerge from a parked car and walk in our direction. Her total focus was on me, but she spoke to the girl. âDo you need anything, Jenny?â she asked.
âMore Mints and some Carmel Delights,â the girl answered. âAnd would you take this twenty?â Jenny handed over the twenty I had just given her and the woman returned to her car.
âIs that your mother?â I asked.
Jenny nodded. âShe stays with me every day while I sell cookies.â
The mother returned with four boxes of cookies cradled in her arms. She eyed me warily as she put them in the cartons at Jennyâs feet.
âWhat are you, the hidden supply line?â
The woman gave me a half smile and nodded. âIt works better if people donât realize we have a full carload of cookies right here. That way they think theyâre buying the last Mint.â
âThis is quite a little entrepreneur you have here,â I said.
âJennyâs a good kid, and she has a lot of spunk. I donât mind helping her. Sheâs willing to help herself.â
Jenny was no lightweight salesperson. She had just finished nailing a woman with a baby in her grocery cart for four packages of