Nightingale's Nightmare (Cassadaga Book 4 (2 page)

“That
Alex is a bitch. I don’t want her on the board,” Helen remarked, fluffing up the permed curls circling her face. “You coming to pick me up for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, at five
. Okay?”

“I’ll be ready.” Helen smiled up at the beanpole of a man. She herself was short and of normal weight. Helen had always taken good care of her body and face. “See you later, lover.”

Ralph watched Helen walk back down the street to her house. He smiled to himself as he began raking again. He had certainly made the correct decision to move into Cassadaga four months ago. His beliefs blended comfortably with those presented here in the community and with those belonging to Helen. She was a good woman and he was fortunate to have found her at this stage in life. Both of them were widowed and lonely, so it was a perfect match, he thought.

“Don’t
work too hard, Ralph.” Sheila Chambers was coming toward him. “I might need your vote to get elected.”

Ralph laughed, figuring he wasn’t ever going to get the front yard raked at the rate he was going with all the interruptions.

“Hi, Sheila,” he greeted her. “You look nice in your yellow dress.”

“Thank you, Ralph.”

Sheila was a divorcee in her late thirties, raising an adopted child. She’d had some rough patches in the last year with her husband being sent to prison, but eventually she had managed to pull herself together, seek a divorce and return to her maiden name. Her thirteen year old son, Peter, could be credited with being the catalyst that spurred Sheila onto making the positive move forward.

“How is Peter doing?”

“Oh, the love of my life, well, he’s just perfect, Ralph.” Sheila beamed when she spoke about Peter. “He’s the perfect child, you know.”

And that wasn’t maternal love talking. Peter
really was the perfect child. Well mannered, smart and genuinely considerate. However, it was his birth mother who was responsible for his behavior, not Sheila. After her murder, Sheila adopted Peter because she had fallen in love with the child, often buying him clothes for school and other gifts before the demise of his mother. Peter loved Sheila as well, so everything had worked out perfectly for both of them, even considering the heartache each had experienced. 

Alex
was driving by in her Cadillac and stopped when she saw Sheila and Ralph chatting.

“Hi! How are your guys?” She was demonstrating the effervescent side of her personality.

“Fine,” Sheila said.

“Ok
ie dokie,” Ralph responded.

“Wonderful! I’m heading to TJ
Maxx to shop. Want to come, Sheila?”

“No, I have to get back home soon. Peter will be coming back from school.”

“Ah, such a great kid!”

“You don’t want to ask me to go shopping?” Ralph
teased.

Alex
laughed heartily. “Oh Ralph, you’re such a comedian!”

Ralph spread his lips in a toothy smile that was missing a couple essential teeth.

“Okay, I’m off to buyout the Maxx!” Alex said.

Sheila and Ralph said goodbye as
Alex peeled away in her fancy car.

“I’m not voting for her,” Sheila said.

“Me neither,” Ralph said.

“Me neither, too,” Poppy said, coming up from behind Sheila. “She too nasty and then she go sweet.”

“That’s right,” Ralph said. “You’ve got her number.”

“What’s up?” Sheila asked.

“Oh, nothing special. Michael busy painting in studio. I hear him walk around at times when I below in gallery.” Poppy shifted her weight from one foot to the other, rocking her hips. “Chloe shopping at book convention in New York, buying for her bookstore.”

“So you have the gallery all to yourself,” Sheila observed.

“
Si,
Michael not come down often when working. But tourists come in and keep me busy.” Poppy smiled a lovely smile at Ralph. “You looking well, Mr. Ralph.”

“Thank you, Poppy.”

“I go now. Just wanted to say
hola.
”

“
Hola
, Poppy,” Ralph and Sheila said in unison.

After Poppy walked away, Sheila was the first to speak. “Stephano and Poppy are such a cute couple. I wonder if they will get married?”

“Give them time. No sense rushing things when they’re doing so well as they are,” Ralph said, positioning his rake to begin his work again, hoping Sheila took the hint.

“Okay, Ralph, it was nice talking with you. I’d better run now.”

“Bye, Sheila. Nice talking with you, too.”

Ralph returned to his raking, hoping no one else
in the neighborhood would be in a chatty mood.

Three

Nightingale sat in the audience, listening to the campaign speeches the candidates had prepared. Each was allotted five minutes to give their pitch why they were the best person for the position of trustee. They all
had delivered good speeches, she thought, but some of them had personality issues or history with the members that would be a turnoff for many in the audience, no matter how wonderful the contents of the speech. Especially Alex.

She was a likeable woman,
an attractive blond of average height and weight, but possessed a temper that frequently got her into trouble. Alex had a mouth and wasn’t afraid to use it to voice her many opinions. She had come to Cassadaga after a divorce from an attorney practicing in Boston. Everyone assumed she received a generous settlement since she drove an expensive car, wore nice clothes and never seemed to lack for money.

“I know I can bring this community back to solvency with my knowledge of the law,” she said emphatically. “If you elect me, I will protect your assets.”

The audience applauded as Alex stepped down from the platform to make room for the next speaker, Joe Schmidt.

“You all know me and know you can trust me,” Joe said.

Yes, everyone knew Joe. He had lived in the community since childhood, raised by a noted medium during that time. He went onto become an accountant and worked nearby in DeLand, but stilled lived in the house he was raised in long after his mother had passed away. Everyone liked and respected Joe, which made Nightingale think he had the best shot at being elected to one of the two vacancies on the board. Who would win the other seat was yet to be determined.

Sheila spoke next, appearing very sincere and authentic. Nightingale
really wanted to see her win.

“I believe we can attract young people here with children
, which would secure our footprint in history. We need youth to keep our community alive and thriving for the long term.” Everyone started to applaud that remark before she was finished speaking.

After Sheila stepped down, a surprise candidate walked up to the podium. It was the Reverend Zachariah Taylor, pastor to the Cassadaga Church. He was a large presence, standing over six foot with a huge physique
, and he always wore black. Zach’s appearance was intimidating, yet his snow white hair spiked out on top of his head also lent a touch of humor.

“As a religious leader, I believe I can lend
some spirituality to the decisions made by the trustees,” Zach said, nervously rolling from one foot to the other.

Zach was not without history in the community. He had terrorized Chloe Peebles when she first came to town
after inheriting the bookstore her uncle left her in his will. There had also been some suspicions about his involvement when a series of rapes and murders of women occurred who attended his church. The reverend certainly was not pure in reputation.

When the speeches ended
, everyone had the opportunity to speak individually with any candidate they wished while enjoying punch and cookies. Over all, Nightingale thought the event had gone well.

“How did I do?” Sheila asked Nightingale, grabbing at her elbow.

“Fine, you were just fine. Everyone did well.”

“What about Zach stepping in?”

“Now, that was a surprise,” Nightingale said, munching on a cookie.

“I was surprised, too. Now there are four of us running for two seats,” Sheila said, looking worried.

“Don’t worry, Sheila, it will be as it should.”

“Okay, I’ll try to remember that. But I really want to win.”

“You will.”

“Really? Is that a prediction?” Sheila’s eyes were as round as the moon outside shining
through the hall window.

“Yes, it is. You’re going to win.”

Sheila’s face glowed. “I hope you’re right.”

“I usually am.”

And that was a true statement. Nightingale was extremely accurate when she made statements like that. Sheila remembered how Nightingale had said several times that when Chloe married Michael, it would make for an interesting wedding, and that certainly had turned out to be the case. Helen, having officiated the wedding last September by the lake, had made quite a drippy spectacle of herself. During the reception, Peter had returned home after being abducted. Yes, it had been quite an interesting wedding.

“Oh, here comes Latisha,” Sheila said, noticing the plump woman walking toward them.

Latisha had a genuine smile dancing over her cocoa complexion as her merry brown eyes caught sight of the two women. “Hi, girlfriends! Wasn’t this fun?”

“I thought so,” Nightingale responded, hugging Latisha. “Do you know who you’re voting for now?”

“I sure do.” Latisha grabbed Sheila into her soft arms for a hug. “Miss Sheila here has my vote.”

“Oh, thank you!”

Latisha Johnson lived on the second floor in Brigham Hall, directly over Poppy’s apartment. She was a new arrival in the community and had been accepted with open arms by everyone who met her, and understandably so. The young woman’s personality was bubbly and happy whenever she volunteered for activities. All the chairpeople wanted Latisha on their committees.

“I don’t think I’ll be voting for Zach, though,” Latisha said.

“Why is that?” Sheila asked.

“Because he scares me.”

“Latisha, Zach is basically harmless,” Nightingale said. “He used to be a menace, but he has shown signs of calming down, perhaps growing into his age.”

“How old is the dude?”

“Near sixty, I believe. He was in Viet Nam,” Nightingale said. “He’s mellowing with age.”

“Humph, we’ll see. I’d rather have mellowed wine than a mellowed Zach.” Latisha laughed at her own joke.

“Ladies, ladies,” a male voice said from behind them. “Such frivolity during a serious meeting.”

All three turned around to see Joe Schmidt.
  His brown hair puffed out on either side of his head, leaving  the center bare from temple to temple. He was dressed in one of his accounting suits, looking proper and dignified. His wife, Jorie, was over talking with other people.

“Hi, Joe,” Nightingale said. “Good luck in the race. I’m voting for you and Sheila.”

“Thank you, Nightingale,” he replied, “I appreciate every vote I receive.”

“Me, too, I’m voting for you,” Sheila said quickly.

“Why thank you for your confidence. You know, I believe you and I can really make a difference in the community if we get elected.”

“I do, too,” Sheila said.
“They need us, don’t they?”

“Yes, they certainly do,” Joe said.

“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” Latisha said. “But I am voting for my girl here, Sheila.”

“Well, Latisha, why don’t you and I have a private chat? Maybe I can convince you to vote for me.”

Joe and Latisha walked away, arm in arm, to discuss the attributes that Joe possessed.

“Don’t worry, Sheila. You are going to win.” Nightingale looked at her friend, placing
an arm around her waist.

Sheila was a tall woman with bobbed brown hair cut to chin length.
Her hazel eyes had softened after becoming a mother to Peter, and that had been the very best thing that could have happened in Sheila’s life. Her devastation over her husband being in prison had been so intense, Nightingale had been concerned she wouldn’t pull out of her depression. But here she was, running for a trustee position on the community’s board. Life was really looking great for Sheila.

F
our

“Nightingale, you were in The Tavern prior to it burning, correct?” Detective Martinez asked as the two sat at a table across from each other at the Sheriff’s Office.

“Yes, I was there with Sheila, Chloe and Poppy,” Nightingale replied. “We were celebrating Chloe’s bachelorette party.”

“Okay. Do you know how the fire started?”

“Not really. We were watching the band on stage, drinking our drinks, and suddenly a bunch of smoke came down over the stage. We thought it was part of the act.”

“Part of the act?”

“Yes, you know how bands have pyrotechnical effects, so we thought that’s what the smoke was. Then flames shot out from the ceiling and the ceiling tiles fell on the stage.” Nightingale recited the events from that night. It was something she would never forget. “The band ran off the stage after that. Oh, and one guy caught on fire, so he rolled off the stage.”