Authors: Donna Andrews
I wasn’t thrilled that Rob was setting such a bad example—had he completely missed Dad’s annual lectures about the perils of fireworks?—but at least he appeared to be keeping the sparklers well away from the boys.
Downstairs, I noticed that the door to the dining room was closed. I continued past it into the kitchen.
“I see the chief’s using our dining room,” I said.
“I thought you were going to sleep in.” Michael was working busily. Clearing up the remains of a toddler meal and, I was pleased to see, working on some grown-up coffee, bacon, and eggs.
“I was,” I said. “But Rob had other ideas.”
“Sorry,” Michael said. “He started setting off something noisy while I was letting the chief in. I chewed him out and told him to stick to sparklers until noon. Rob, that is.”
I nodded and began gulping down the coffee he set in front of me.
“Good morning, Meg.” I looked up to see the chief walking in, followed by Denton. The PI was already in the gorilla suit, although he was carrying the head under his arm rather than wearing it.
“Morning, Chief,” I said. “I trust you were as relieved as I was to see Mr. Denton still among the living.”
“Indeed,” he said. “I’m assuming you would have no problem if Mr. Denton continued to wear Horace’s gorilla suit for the time being?”
“As a disguise, it’s a pretty useless one except in Yorktown and here in Caerphilly,” I said to Denton. “Does this mean you’re staying in town?”
“If someone from FPF took a shot at me, they know where to find me in Staunton,” he said. “And besides, I want to search the courthouse.”
“I thought it already had been searched,” I said, glancing at the chief.
“Very thoroughly,” the chief said.
“Yes—but by police officers looking for evidence in the murder,” Denton went on. “This would be different—I want to look for evidence that will help sort out precisely what’s going on within First Progressive Financial. Evidence of corporate skullduggery. Which may or may not have anything to do with the murder, but will definitely have a bearing on Caerphilly’s various legal battles.”
“Mr. Denton suggests, not unreasonably, that his knowledge of the inner workings of FPF might enable him to spot useful evidence,” the chief said. “I’m inclined to consider his suggestion.”
“And if he goes into the courthouse wearing the gorilla suit,” I said, “no one will pay any attention, because they’ll all assume it’s Horace.”
“Precisely,” the chief said. “So I see no reason not to continue the rather ingenious masquerade you used to spirit him safely out of town. However,” he added, fixing Denton with a stern look, “I am not comfortable with having him wandering around town by himself in it or sending him solo into the courthouse. So if you don’t mind lending us the suit for a little while longer, I’ll take Mr. Denton with me into town. He, and the suit, will be in the mayor’s office. When I can free up a deputy to accompany him, I’ll let him do his search of the courthouse, and after that we can return the suit.”
“It’s Horace’s suit, and I’m sure he’d consider this a good cause,” I said.
“And should the occasion arise,” the chief added, “you might mention to a few people that Horace is back, just for a few hours, and working so frantically on a few forensic items that it would be a kindness not to disturb him.”
I nodded.
“Of course, if you deputized Meg to go along and babysit me,” Denton said, “you wouldn’t have to pull any of your deputies off their regular duties.”
“I’ve already told you I’d rather try to free up a deputy,” the chief said. “Meg has her hands full already.”
“You mean you’d actually consider deputizing me again?” I asked.
The chief winced.
“For the sole and specific purpose of supervising Mr. Denton’s inspection of the courthouse,” he said. And then, in a more conversational tone, he added, “But it shouldn’t be necessary. Right now, the roads around the town square are bumper to bumper. If I had to pull another deputy off traffic control this morning, we might just achieve total gridlock. But things should get better this afternoon.”
“By this afternoon you’ll be neck deep in lost children, heat prostrations, teenagers mishandling fireworks, belligerent drunks, and people who think ‘no parking’ signs don’t apply to them,” Denton said. “And another day will go by without our finding critical evidence. Not to mention that every day increases the chance that any evidence will be lost or compromised.”
“If it hasn’t been compromised yet, a few more hours won’t hurt,” the chief said. “And if the day goes to hell in a handbasket the way you’re expecting, I’ll reconsider deputizing Meg. If she’s willing.”
I glanced at Michael.
“Your call,” he said softly. And I knew that, like me, he was probably thinking about what could happen if the Evil Lender got its way. The threat to our house, Dad’s farm, and our working farmer neighbors—all of us whose land FPF was hoping to seize and hand over to a developer. I imagined condos covering the pastures where Rose Noire grew her herbs and a sleek but soulless clubhouse swallowing up the house we’d worked so hard to get in shape and the yard where even now our sons were playing so happily. And no doubt strip malls, parking lots, and fast-food joints after that.
“I’m in,” I said. “Chief, consider me deputized, and if you decide you want to use me, just call me. Until then, I’ll be in the tent.”
Before the chief left with Denton, I pulled out the spare forensic kit Horace kept at our house and carefully transferred its contents into a box.
“Horace would never go out on a case without this,” I said.
“Any objection if I put my clothes in there?” he asked. “I’m just wearing my shorts under this outfit.”
“Good idea,” I said. “No need to risk a fur-induced heatstroke. And remember,” I added, probably for the tenth time, “if anyone tries to talk to you, just nod or shrug or shake your head. Horace often gets pretty preoccupied when he’s on a case, and he hates talking in the suit. Spoils the effect.”
Denton nodded, took a deep breath, and slid the headpiece on. Then he followed the chief out to his car.
“So you’re going to be helping the chief with his investigations?” Michael asked.
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” I said. “He only said that to placate Denton.”
“We’ll see,” he said. “Help me load the llamas into the trailer, will you? I promised Caroline I’d bring them in for her petting zoo.”
“Petting zoo? She brought hyenas and wolves. Who’s going to want to pet them?”
“I think she’s borrowing some sheep and goats for the petting zoo,” Michael replied. “Plus the usual assortment of cute animals from the shelter.”
“That’s more like it,” I said. “Just make sure they know to keep the fans going so none of the animals get overheated.” Caerphilly Days had been a boon for the county’s new animal shelter, thanks to an innovation Caroline had introduced. In addition to displaying the adoptable animals from the shelter on one weekend a month, we also had several large, clearly marked donation boxes for guilt offerings from people who saw the cute animals but couldn’t take one home. For the moment, the county shelter was almost self-sustaining.
It took both Michael’s truck and my van to haul the llamas, Eric and the boys, Rob, and Caroline. Eric and Rob were telling Josh and Jamie all about the upcoming fireworks. I wasn’t sure how much the boys understood, and I knew it wasn’t wise, working them up to a fever pitch of excitement about something that wasn’t going to happen for hours. But keeping them happy till things went boom would be Eric’s problem. Well, mostly Eric’s problem.
I unloaded everyone else at the petting zoo and parked the truck. I could see what the chief meant—traffic was already bad.
But that was good for the festival. All three of the churches were selling coffee as fast as they could brew it and they’d all come up with a breakfast menu. Tourists were lining up for Baptist ham biscuits, Episcopal coffee cake and fruit smoothies, and Catholic doughnuts still warm from the fryer.
Apparently Rose Noire had anticipated the traffic and arrived even earlier than usual. I found her standing in front of the tent, broom in hand, staring up at the sky.
“Good morning,” I said. “Planning to take a ride before things get busy?”
“Look!” She pointed up at the sky. “There’s a huge bird circling overhead. Is it the hawk or the vulture?”
I studied the bird’s silhouette for a few moments.
“The vulture, I think.”
“How horrible!”
“Actually, I think it’s rather reassuring.” I shaded my eyes as I watched the buzzard’s slow, stately flight. “She’s not circling tightly over a particular area. She just seems to be looking.”
“And she’ll find something sooner or later.”
“Yes, but so far today she hasn’t. No dead bodies, animal or human, anywhere nearby. I like that thought.”
Once the first act, a country music group, took the stage, Shiffleys arrived with discreet shipments of parts and tools for the trapdoor construction. Since Rose Noire had everything under control, I spent a happy hour at the petting zoo with Eric and the boys. I arrived back in time for my 11
A.M.
blacksmithing demonstration. While I hammered madly, the Shiffleys started the final stage of demolition work on the old trapdoor and continued it while a fife and drum corps marched and played overhead. The cousin who was selling my ironwork and Rose Noire’s herbs texted me to say that she was running low on everything, so I recruited a couple of burly cousins to go with Rose Noire to load the truck and resupply her.
For the first few hours Lad showed up occasionally with a lost child, but eventually Seth’s retraining program took effect, and we’d see Lad trotting by, driving his charges before him, en route to the police tent.
Since the banks were closed, every hour or two Caroline would send someone over with money from the petting zoo’s donation box. I set a sturdy box in the pen where Tink and Spike could guard it and we poured the cash and coins into that. We’d probably need another box before the end of the day.
At lunchtime, I called Mother’s cell phone and asked her if she could gather some provisions for me to pick up.
“Of course, dear,” she said. “And while you’re here, there’s someone you should talk to.”
Chapter 36
The someone turned out to be Shannon, the pretty blond teenager who either was or wasn’t dating one of the Flying Monkeys. Mother whisked us into a back corner of the kitchen area.
“Now just tell Meg and see what she thinks,” she said.
Shannon turned to me with an anxious look on her face.
“I don’t know whether I should tell the chief something I saw.”
“When in doubt, tell,” I said. “That’s my policy.”
Of course, whether this was a good day to tell him was another question. I knew I’d hesitate to bother him today unless I was pretty darn sure my information was important.
“Shannon and her young man were over in Clay County last night,” Mother said. “I am allowed to call him that now that he’s quit his job—right?”
“Yeah.” Shannon’s sunny smiled returned. “Andy got hired at the hunting goods store over in Clay County. He doesn’t want to do that forever, but he’s going to go back to school in the fall if he can transfer his credits to Caerphilly.”
“Excellent,” I said. “So what did you and the former Flying Monkey see?”
“I took Andy over for his second interview yesterday, and after they said he was hired, we went across the street to the diner for a little lunch, to celebrate. And as we were coming in, you know who was coming out?”
I shook my head.
“Ex-Mayor Pruitt!”
“You’re sure?” I asked.
“I know everyone thinks he’s in Cancún, but he’s not,” she said. “And Andy said ‘Afternoon, Mr. Mayor,’ and Mr. Pruitt just grunted, and I asked Andy why he called him that, and how he even knew him. Andy thought he was still mayor. He’s seen him hanging around over at the courthouse a lot lately, talking to Mr. Fisher.”
I glanced at Mother, who wore the same pleased expression our family cat used to wear when bringing us a particularly large and succulent mouse.
“Definitely tell the chief,” I said. “He will be very pleased with you for reporting this.”
Shannon looked anxious again.
“Or if you’d rather, I’ll tell him,” I offered. Her smile returned, and she nodded vigorously. “Is Andy around today?” I added.
“Helping your father in the first aid tent,” Mother said. “Dr. Smoot wasn’t working out—too unsettling for the tourists. But Andy volunteered, and he’s had EMT training. Such a nice young man!”
Clearly Andy had been forgiven for his brief sojourn on the dark side and was being welcomed into the Caerphillian fold. Mother would probably soon be asking if Michael could put in a good word for him at the college admissions office.
“Good work,” I said to Shannon. “I’ll take it from here.”
If Andy was available for interrogation, the chief might not even need to talk to Shannon.
When I got back to the tent with my food, I called the chief. He sounded harried.
“I’m only calling because if you found out later I knew this and didn’t tell you, you’d be mad,” I said. Once I’d relayed what I’d learned from Shannon—well, he didn’t sound any less harried, but he did sound a little more cheerful.
I did more blacksmithing at two. When I showed up at the tent at three, Randall looked jubilant.
“We’re making great progress,” he said. “We’re going to take a break during all this quiet stuff, and then pick up again during the high school band concert. We might even finish while the history pageant is on.”
I glanced at the program to remind myself what the “quiet stuff” was.
“Oh, right—the politicians.” Randall had extended an open invitation to all our state and national representatives to speak during today’s festivities, and to my surprise, most of them had accepted. So the next two hours would be devoted to what Randall called “the speechifying.”
“Probably the only time on record I’ve complained about politicians being too quiet,” he said. “Plenty of hot air, but not nearly enough noise. And after that there’s the ballet.”