Killing Weeds by Jim Lavene, Joyce

with the engine, trying to convert it to hydrogen, but she’d given up before the task was finished.
    Paul had surprised her and had the original engine restored and the rest of the car cleaned so it could be driven. He’d borrowed it once or twice to impress Mai and her family. Otherwise the Rolls-Royce slept covered in a tarp in the garage.
    Peggy removed the soft tarp and folded it neatly before putting it in the trunk.
    Ranson ran his hand appreciatively across the car’s shiny finish. “You’re right. Nothing tops this. I’d forgotten how beautiful it is.”
    “Let’s get in. Steve’s meeting might not last very long. I want to be in and out of Stewart’s before he knows we’re there.”
    “Okay, Honey Bunny.”
    “Don’t call me that, and don’t pretend to be my sugar daddy. Can’t you just be my wealthy father buying me a mink for my birthday?”
    “I can do that, but it won’t be as much fun,” he grumbled.
    Stewart’s Furs was a hole in the wall shop in Myer’s Park. It was hard to tell that so many expensive furs were sold here every year. It was a very popular place for local bankers—and their wives and mistresses.
    Peggy was opposed to wearing fur and had never owned a fur coat in her life. But she parked the Rolls outside the shop and pretended like she belonged there. Ranson came around and opened the door for her. She thanked him regally, and they proceeded into the place together.
    The shop was shabby, which probably added to its popularity. Stewart Purl saw their entrance and the car. He immediately pushed aside his only sales clerk to wait on them himself.
    He was a small man, barely five feet, with tiny hands and feet. He was dressed in a perfect gray suit and white shirt. His white hair and mustache were well-groomed.
    Smiling, he presented himself to Peggy and Ranson. “Good morning. May I help you?”
    Ranson nodded. “Yes, my good man. I would like to buy a beautiful new coat for my beautiful daughter.”
    Peggy sighed with relief. She hadn’t thought he could pull off the sugar daddy routine convincingly, and he was her father— eww .
    Stewart kissed her hand. “You are a lovely young woman. I’m sure we can find something equally as beautiful for you to wear.”
    “Equally?” Ranson thundered. “Are you saying you have a coat as beautiful as my daughter?”
    Stewart backed down from his statement. “No. Of course not. I meant a coat that will show off your beautiful daughter. Of course there is nothing more beautiful than she.”
    Peggy narrowed her eyes at her father, giving him an unspoken request to get on with it. “I’m looking for the same coat that a friend of mine purchased here. It was full-length brown mink.”
    “Oh yes? We have many of those. If you will step this way, madam.”
    Peggy started to follow him and then hung back. “I want exactly the same coat, you understand.”
    He paused. “Surely. We have many such requests. What is your friend’s name?”
    “Her name is Mary Hood. Do you know the coat I mean?”
    “I don’t recall the name, but I can check my files.” He snapped his fingers.
    His sales clerk, a plain little woman with her brown hair rolled up in a bun on the back of her head, was standing close by. She wore large, black-rimmed glasses that did nothing to make her face attractive, and a shapeless dress. Even her nametag was blank, as though Mr. Purl didn’t want her to be noticed at all.
    “I can take the name of your friend and look her up,” she told Peggy.
    “Mary Hood. She and I have been friends forever,” Peggy gushed, wondering if she had overplayed herself when the woman looked at her like she had a loose screw.
    “I’ll check on that, ma’am.”
    Stewart, Ranson, and Peggy waited for her to return, making small talk.
    The inside of the shop was in no better condition that the outside. The upholstery on the green chairs near the dressing room was threadbare. The carpet needed to be replaced. Even the dark green