Drizzled With Death (2 page)

“Well, don’t let me waste any more of your time.” I crossed to the door and yanked it open.

“I need to jot down a few notes to write up a report.” He pulled a small notebook from a pocket in his uniform jacket. “Do you have a pen?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be like a professional Boy Scout? I would have thought you’d always be prepared.” I shut the door, crossed to the workbench, and handed him a pen.

“Let’s say I never got all the badges. Since you seem to be in a hurry, I’ll just get a couple of particulars and fill out the rest later. Let’s start with your name.”

“Dani Greene.”

“Is Dani short for Danielle?”

“No, it is not.” I wasn’t about to tell him what it was short for either. The last man I’d shared that with got a splinter in his cheek from rolling around on a hardwood floor laughing.

“We’ll leave it at Dani then. Age?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Really?” I didn’t think he was trying to flatter me. Most people think I’m nineteen, maybe twenty. Sometimes I even get asked for my license when I try to get into an R-rated movie. If I wear a pleated skirt and Mary Janes, I can order off the children’s menu. You want directions to the fountain of youth? A hyperactive metabolism, short stature, and freckles. As far as I can tell, I’ll never be able to convince anyone to give me a senior citizen discount.

“Really. Any more questions?”

“Marital status?”

“Is that one of the questions?” Having a biological big brother, I tend to be wary of the governmental kind.

“Not officially, but another conservation officer and I are conducting an informal survey. We’ve documented a higher-than-normal call rate from unmarried women on Friday nights. Especially from those who’ve been drinking.” He grinned at me again and I felt my Barbie fists curl and land on my hips.

“I think we’re done here.” I scurried to the door as quickly as my short legs allowed and popped it open, hoping a hungry mountain lion would pounce into the sugarhouse and consume one of us. I was embarrassed enough that I didn’t even care which of us was eaten.

“It’s your call.” He pocketed the notebook and laid my pen and a business card on the bench next to the wine bottle. “Don’t hesitate to contact me if you see anything else. I’ll be working next Friday night, too.” He flashed me a condescending smirk.

I stood there stunned into angry silence while he backed down the driveway. I slammed the door then opened it so I could slam it again. As soon as his taillights started to fade, I remembered I was several hundred yards from the main house and there was a mountain lion prowling nearby. Fueled by fear and anger, I ran all the way to the house. Just in time, too, because as soon as I’d snuggled myself under my quilt, the heat of anger finally dissipated in the chilly air of the drafty farmhouse, I heard the crunch of gravel in the driveway and my family’s raised voices as they swarmed inside.

Thanks to the efforts of the Sap Bucket Brigade, the grange
hall looked festive and inviting when I arrived early the next morning hoping to make up for not helping the night before. Every table was decorated with a balloon bouquet and a maple leaf centerpiece. Each place setting at the contest table had a pint of Greener Pastures maple syrup centered on the plate. Members of the Brigade hurried around the hall, arguing over the number of expected attendees and when to start perking the coffee. As usual, Myra Phelps’s voice rasped out over the rest and took charge. When not fielding calls at the police station, she served as the president of the auxiliary. With the clout of the police department behind her, she got her way the majority of the time. Rumor had it she had spent a portion of her youth working as a lady wrestler, and watching her bully the treasurer, Connie Wilson, into starting the coffee, it was easy to imagine.

I had just poured myself a cup of coffee when the door to the hall creaked open, sending the balloon bouquets dancing on their ribbon tethers. I looked up wondering if some hungry guests were trying to sneak in early. There stood Graham Paterson, turning a wool cap around and around in his hands. We locked eyes and he made straight for me. I looked around for somewhere to go and then, realizing the auxiliary women were all watching, decided to minimize any scene that might make for a good story as soon as anyone showed up to tell it to.

“I owe you an apology,” Graham said, stopping in front of me.

“For what? Calling me drunk, calling me crazy, or for implying I was lonely and desperate enough to lie to get a man to my house?”

“All three. Some information has come my way that makes your call make a lot more sense and I should have taken it more seriously.” I looked at him over the paper rim of my coffee cup.

“You look like you could use some coffee yourself.” He nodded and followed me to the coffee station. I poured him a cup and watched as he carefully added cream but no sugar. No sweet tooth. After his attitude the night before, I should have known.

“I really am sorry. Could we sit for a minute? I’ve been up all night.” I looked at his face a little more closely. His eyes were shadowed underneath, and his shoulders weren’t quite as straight as they had been the night before. Even his dark curls seemed to have lost some of their spring. I nodded and was surprised when he pulled out a chair at a long table and pointed at it for me to take a seat.

“So what’s this new information?” People would be arriving in just a few minutes and we needed the seats. The pancake breakfast always runs to capacity, and this year they were expecting a bigger than usual turnout since the auxiliary decided to add home fries to the menu.

“The state police spotted an abandoned, empty tractor trailer truck on the side of the highway. A few miles up they found the driver on foot.”

“So?”

“He’d been illegally transporting exotic animals for a friend who was selling them to another unauthorized collector.”

“Did you say the truck was empty?”

“That’s the heart of the matter. He pulled over and let all the animals loose.”

“Why?” The thought of letting exotic animals loose to roam around someone else’s town was completely unconscionable. And not just because of the danger to the people. Most exotic animals weren’t built for New Hampshire winters and ours was almost here.

“He blamed it on the parrots.”

“The parrots?”

“He ran out of room in the back so he strapped a cage with a pair of parrots into the passenger seat of the cab with him. At first he thought they were entertaining, the way they seemed like they were talking to each other.”

“Skip to the part where he lets the animals loose.”

“I’m getting there. As the miles wore on, he got better at piecing together what the birds were saying. By the time he got to Sugar Grove, they were repeating some choice bits of conversation between his wife and the friend he was helping.” Graham’s stubbly cheeks turned a bit red and he dropped his eyes to his coffee cup.

“What kind of choice bits?” Seeing him squirm was improving my morning.

“Endearments, passionate vocalizations, criticisms of the husband’s bedroom performance.” He picked at the rim of the paper cup with a rough thumbnail.

“So he decided to get back at the guy by turning the animals loose?”

“That’s the gist of it.”

“So what exactly did he let loose?” I could just feel the validation coming, could almost see it forming on his lips.

“Peacocks, a couple of cassowaries, several large snakes, a zebra, and a couple of kangaroos. A camel was mentioned along with lemurs, sloths, alligators, and a few squirrel monkeys.”

“But no big cats?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“There was a leopard tortoise.”

“Have you ever heard of a tortoise with teeth?”

“No, but I’ve never heard of a mountain lion actually being in New Hampshire either. Maybe you saw a capybara. There was one of those, too.”

“Aren’t they the world’s largest rodent? Those definitely don’t have a swishy tail as long as their bodies.” I could feel my anger rising again. “I really don’t have time for this. The breakfast is due to start in just a few minutes and there are still some things I need to do.” I shoved back my chair.

“I’m here not only to apologize but also to ask a favor.”

“Hold on, now you want a favor? I already gave you a cup of coffee and somewhere to sit, not to mention time I don’t really have to offer.”

“I understand. I just want to make an announcement sometime during the breakfast to appeal to residents not to be alarmed if they also see unusual animals in the area.”

“You’re going to want to ask them not to take it upon themselves to remedy the situation while you’re at it. Not everyone around here would think to call Fish and Game if there was an alligator in the backyard.”

“So the Gila monster might be in more danger from the residents than from the cold snap in the forecast?”

“I think that’s a safe bet. You can stick around and make your announcement but wait until after the pancake-eating contest. I don’t want talk about a zebra stealing the limelight, at least not until it’s necessary.”

“Thanks. I’m sure it will help if I get to talk to everyone.”

“Let’s just hope you make a better impression on the pancake enthusiasts than you have on me.” I stood up and lobbed my paper cup at the nearby trash can, making a neat basket, and then headed to the kitchen to see how I could help before the doors flew open and the crowds roared in.

“Who’s the fella?” Myra lifted her voice over the sizzle of sausage and the clang of grill scrapers.

“The guy from Fish and Game. He wants to make a public service announcement.”

“He’s pretty easy on the eyes.” She squinted through the smoke rising up off the griddle. A pair of ancient volunteers stood a couple of feet away beating pancake batter with a whisk. Several other women from the auxiliary raced to and fro with plates and pitchers of syrup. One carried a tray loaded with dishes of butter.

“I hadn’t noticed.” I kept my back deliberately turned on Graham, instead focusing on the river of fat leaking out of the sausage patties.

“Well, no wonder you’re getting to be an old maid. When I was your age, I had a line of men stretching out the door.” It was hard to imagine. Myra’s year-round wardrobe consisted of stretch knit shorts and tank tops. Not to mention whenever she flipped a sausage patty, it set her flabby triceps swinging like a hammock in a hurricane.

“I guess I’m just picky.”

“Well, I suppose with your youthful looks, you’ve got a little more time than most. Although if you go around telling eligible men you’ve seen a mountain lion, you’ll die a spinster for sure. Wait ’til Mitch hears what you’ve been saying. He’ll be glad you dumped him.” Mitch, the police officer I’d been dating, had dumped me, but I wasn’t about to correct her. “Do me a favor and open the doors.” She pointed her spatula toward the entrance. Connie Wilson, the Sap Bucket Brigade’s treasurer, hurried after me and stationed herself at the ticket table just inside the doorway. I heard the crowd and felt the tremors beneath my feet as I approached the threshold. A news report about a man killed in a Black Friday sale stampede flashed through my mind as I grabbed the door handle.

Within moments, tables were filled with people munching pancakes and sausage drenched in Greener Pastures syrup. My family entered with the rest of the guests and spread out to sit with friends at tables all around the hall. All except my grandparents, who headed for the contest table at the front like they had for more than fifty years. I poured them each a cup of coffee and picked my way through the throng to the front table. They both put on a good show, but their age was starting to creep up and I liked to make things easy on them whenever I could.

“So you’re feeling better then?” Grandma asked. She used the same tone of voice she always had when asking if anyone knew who had been at the cookie jar. There was nothing left to do but confess.

“It was the sort of thing cured easily enough by a couple of hours left on your own.”

“I find that particular virus gives me a bad bout of food poisoning. Your grandfather always has wondered how I’m the only one to get it.” A smile spread over her ruby red lips. Grandma comes from a generation of women that always dress to go to town and she had outdone herself this morning. From her wool tweed skirt to her cashmere twin set and pearls, she was every inch a lady. Even in her seventies she favored strappy heels despite dire warnings from her physician about hip replacements.

“I won’t be the one to tell him.” I stretched up on tiptoe and planted a kiss on her papery cheek. “Doesn’t Grampa look like he’s in fine form this morning?” Grampa is as disheveled as Grandma is elegant. His long salt-and-pepper beard always drags in his soup and his socks never match. Making things even worse, he’s colorblind but insists he isn’t and won’t ever ask for help. He caught us watching him and waggled his gnarled fingers flirtatiously in Grandma’s direction. Despite their surface differences, they go together like pancakes and syrup. If I was picky about men, it was only because I knew what kind of marriage was possible after having them as an example all these years.

“He does love to be the center of attention.” Grandma looked up and down the contest table. “Who’s vying for the pewter syrup pitcher this year? Besides your grandfather, I mean.”

“Roland Chick, Jill Hayes, Alanza Speedwell, and a couple of boys from the junior firefighters.”

“That woman ought to know better than to show her face at a town function after the way she’s ruined the property Lewis left her.” Grandma scowled like she’d just found a gnat in her dentures. “And to imagine sitting at the table with Roland, outrageous.”

“I’ve never noticed Alanza having a sensitive side. Besides, she is the secretary of the Sap Bucket Brigade. She’s got to put in an appearance at their main fund-raiser.” I looked out at the sea of people, wondering when Alanza would arrive. I expected to hear a rumble go through the crowd when she did show.

Alanza inherited a valuable parcel of land covered in sugar bush three years earlier. The previous owner, Lewis Bett, had allowed townsfolk to tap the trees without a thought to charging them. The local snowmobile club was encouraged to establish trails through the property, and one of the area’s best fishing holes could be accessed by cutting through the south corner of the eighty-acre spread. When Alanza first took ownership, she gave her blessing to all the activities the community was accustomed to, and Sugar Grove heaved a collective sigh of relief. She was welcomed with open arms into many town committees and clubs, including the Sap Bucket Brigade, despite her unorthodox appearance and flamboyant behavior. Things had cooled for her socially over the last year, once she decided to clear-cut pristine acreage in order to open a self-storage facility.

Suddenly, the happy rippling of a contented crowd vanished. A general sucking in of breath made it sound like the room had fallen into a hurricane. Roland Chick was on his bunion-burdened feet before Alanza could cross the room. His face was changing color as if his mother had been an octopus. First green then gray, then almost purple. Even the babies stopped crying. Alanza Speedwell headed toward us, her wispy eggplant-colored hair streaming behind her as she moved. Clacking from her thigh-high boots was the only sound echoing through the hall as she mounted the stage and found her place card at the contest table. She tugged at her zebra-striped miniskirt, which had migrated so far north it was threatening to become a cummerbund.

“Well, don’t all stop eating on account of me,” she said, dragging her chair back and settling herself, crossing one plump thigh over the other. Most women in New Hampshire don’t wear skirts on a daily basis. They certainly don’t once the temperature at night drops below freezing. Just looking at hers dropped the temperature in the room by several degrees. Alanza was like a portable air-conditioning unit. I only wished it were July instead of November.

“I think your arrival has caused most people to lose their appetites,” Roland said from the other end of the table. At least someone had enough sense not to seat them together.