Shelley Freydont - Celebration Bay 03 - Independence Slay (6 page)

She pulled out a pink T-shirt. She’d meant to recycle some pink and red from the strawberry festival. Unfortunately the T-shirt, as well as other garments, were hopelessly stained, as the berries had been sweet, juicy, and detergent-proof.

She pulled on a pair of jeans. Not exactly the blue of the flag, but they would have to do. The only other blue she had were dark-wash jean shorts, and they were way too short for the public, according to her landladies.

She selected a white T-shirt, ran a scarf through the belt loops, and carefully twisted the Hermès pattern to accent the red. Hopefully the purple swirls would look like blue.

But one glance in the mirror made her cringe. Not only did she look like she’d seen a body and spent most of the night at the police station, she seriously needed a wardrobe upgrade.

Next month. August would be fairly easy. She would organize her coming year and purchase accordingly while she had the chance. She never had time for shopping once the holiday season began.

She brushed her hair back into a ponytail and pulled it through the opening of the blue cap she’d bought on the street the day before. Hopefully she would look official enough to be authoritative if the need arose and patriotic enough to pass local opinion.

Sensing adventure—and breakfast—ahead, Whiskey rolled out of bed, shook vigorously, and trotted down the hall to the back door.

She let him out and put out a bowl of food, which he scarfed down immediately when he came back inside.

“And now your favorite part,” she told him. She leaned down to tie on a stars-and-stripes kerchief that she’d bought at the Woofery for the occasion. Sharise, the groomer, tried to talk her into a top hat with red and white stripes, but Liv had put her foot down.

After years of Liv buying cute little doggie outfits and having Whiskey refuse to wear them, he’d suddenly become a Westie fashionista. He and Ted even had matching bow ties at Christmas.

Liv shuddered to think what Ted would be wearing today.

She clipped on Whiskey’s leash and they headed out. It was still early, but already Liv could tell it was going to be hot and humid again.

Whiskey trotted ahead of her down the driveway, ready to show off his bandanna and get a tiny treat. He was much more enthusiastic than his barely-put-together mistress.

But neither Miss Edna nor Miss Ida was out yet. Probably still picking out their outfits for the parade. And then she remembered… they were
in
the parade.

Liv felt a rush of pride and excitement. She’d only been here a little less than a year—so she’d be considered an outsider for the next fifteen years at least. She might never be asked to ride on a float in the parade or host the Winter Ball. But she was home.

They walked the two blocks to the square, where the sun was just coming up over the eastern mountains and cast a shimmer of gold over the lake. Already vendors were setting up in the green. Food and souvenirs, charities selling raffle tickets for prizes that would be announced later that day.

BeBe and Dolly both had tables out on the sidewalk that crisscrossed the park. Miriam Krause and her quilting club would be selling patriotic quilts and donating the proceeds to rehabilitate wounded soldiers. There were voting-registration tables and free blood-pressure check stations. Petitions to sign, though Ted and Liv had carefully scrutinized each group that registered to set up a booth.

This was a day to celebrate and appreciate freedom, not to engage in political debate of any kind. There was plenty of grumbling and threats to sue the town when certain extremist groups were turned away, but not even the mayor backed down. Evidently there had been some pretty nasty encounters in the years before, and he didn’t want a return of that, and Liv wholeheartedly agreed. No politics on the Fourth of July.

Security would be doubled for the parade. Between the county police and Bayside Security, Bill Gunnison had a full force of officers and patrolmen.

Liv had been told that the parade drew mainly local families and tourists who were traveling with small children. But Liv knew quite well that, while the reenactment could be more carefully controlled by limiting the entrances, the parade-goers would be free to roam the town.

She’d been the event planner to the rich and the sometimes infamous, but except for a few angry words or a drunken brawl, she’d been confident of the safety of the attendees. But these open venues and free-flowing events were out of her comfort zone; she was adapting, but she still checked and triple-checked the schedule before each event.

Liv walked along the sidewalk that surrounded the park. Lawn chairs had been set out for days, chained to parking meters or tied together, to save places for the parade. The judging stand in front of Town Hall was finished and was decorated with bunting and American flags.

Apple of My Eye was busy but not crowded yet. Whiskey was a big hit in his festive kerchief. And Dolly had a special star-shaped doggie treat for him.

Dolly herself looked like Betsy Ross, pleasantly plump with a frilly white mobcap over her honey-colored hair. A white kerchief collar covered the shoulders of a red figured dress. Even her normal apron was white and starched so that it barely moved.

Behind her, the pink cupcake wall clock supported two American flags, one current and one of the thirteen colonies. The display case was filled with red, white, and blue cupcakes, cookies, blueberry muffins, raspberry turnovers, even striped Rice Krispies snacks.

Liv ordered a raisin scone. Dolly bagged the scone but, instead of handing it to Liv across the counter, she motioned to her part-time helper to take over. She accompanied Liv to the sidewalk.

“Is it true?” she asked, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “That poor Leo Morgan found the body of Jacob Rundle last night?”

Liv nodded; there was no point in denying it. Everyone would know soon enough, and she didn’t want to jeopardize anyone’s trust in her by lying and acting innocent.

“How did you and Ted figure out that something was wrong?”

“Well… Ted noticed something off about the signal and went to see if something was wrong. I just followed him.”

“Well, let us know if there’s anything Fred or I can do, though I’m sure you and Chaz will get to the bottom of it.”

“Chaz isn’t here, Dolly.”

“Oh, are you sure? Fred said he thought he’d seen his SUV in the Quickie Mart parking lot.”

“I don’t know,” Liv said. “I’d better get going.”

Dolly hurried back to the bakery, and Liv went next door to the Buttercup Coffee Exchange. The sign for today’s special advertised the YankeeSnickerDoodle blend.

“How do you come up with these names?” Liv asked BeBe.

“It’s a knack,” BeBe told her. “And too sweet for you. You won’t like it. But, the One if by Land is a double shot of espresso with a dollop of whipped cream and cinnamon. It’s pretty good.”

“I’ll have—”

“I know, a double-shot latte, plain.” BeBe made her latte, then placed a tall cardboard cup on the counter. “Ted came in earlier for his tea.” BeBe sighed. “He wouldn’t try the Boston Tea Party brew, either.”

Liv took her coffee. “Hey, I tried the Jingle Bell Jamaican last December.”

“Once. That’s okay. You have other good qualities.”

“Thanks,” Liv said. “Well, I’d better get going. A line is forming behind me.”

She nodded to several women she sort of recognized and continued to the door, where she stopped with her hand on the knob.

“They say Bill Gunnison has taken that Morgan boy into custody. Always thought there was something wrong with him. Now we know,” one of the women said as Liv passed.

“I wonder how they caught him so fast?”

“They must have gotten a tip.”

The gossip was starting already. And this bunch had it all wrong.

“Well, I don’t believe it. He’s a little slow, but he’s always seemed so nice. Oh, good morning, BeBe, did you hear… ?”

Liv let herself out and hurried down the sidewalk. They’d had a tip all right. An SOS. But if Rundle had bled out immediately like A.K. said, who gave the signal of alarm?

Liv was a little unnerved from that whole encounter. She sure hoped people didn’t assume Leo was guilty just because he was a little different. Though people tended to do just that. What did that one woman say?
He always seemed so nice.

Of course, that’s what they always said about psychopaths that went on killing sprees.
Not funny, Liv.
Leo was just a kid in the wrong place when something bad had happened. She was sure Bill had let him go by now.

But what really worried her was that she hadn’t thought to ask Ted who he thought had signaled the SOS.

She stepped up the pace, hoping to catch Ted before he left the office for parade duty.

Some kids saw Whiskey and came over to pat him. Then others joined them. Whiskey preened and licked hands and made himself adorable. Liv finally managed to pull him away, but this was just the beginning.

While they were standing there, Quincy Hinks came out of the Bookworm. “Just heard about Rundle. Heart attack?”

Liv shrugged and held up her hands, pulled Whiskey away from the kids, and kept walking, right past Bay-Berry Candles. Now if she could just—

But everyone she passed wanted to stop and chat. Ask questions about what had happened the night before. Most didn’t know exactly what had gone on other than there had been a lot of cop cars around the Gallantine estate and that someone thought they’d seen the coroner’s van.

Liv just nodded, shrugged, and kept walking.

“Yoo-hoo, Liv?” Miriam Krause, the owner of A Stitch in Time fabric-and-quilting store, stuck her head out the front door and motioned Liv over. “I was talking to Mr. Valenski at the newsstand earlier this morning, and he said that Hildy Ingersoll came in for Henry’s newspaper, and she told him that Leo Morgan killed Jacob Rundle last night.”

Liv did not want to be drawn into any gossip this morning and had meant to keep walking. But this stopped her. “She went in for Mr. Gallantine’s newspaper? But I thought he had left for the summer.”

Miriam flipped her hand. “Should have. He usually has the car packed and waiting. As soon as he plays the ghost in the reenactment, he drives out of town.”

So where was he? And why was Hildy getting his paper if he wasn’t here? Did Hildy know where he was?

“What else did Mr. Valenski—”

Unfortunately, the same Westie who would have sat and played with the children just a few minutes ago suddenly realized they were near the office, where he would be given his star biscuit, and he pulled at the leash.

“Heel,” Liv said. Whiskey barked and pulled harder. “Sorry. Too much excitement.”

“Don’t you worry about it. He’s cute as can be. I tell you, I don’t believe it for a minute.”

It took a beat before Liv realized she was back to talking about the murder and not Whiskey.

“Poor boy, he never did anybody any harm, and you tell Bill Gunnison not to be too quick to judge.”

“Will do,” Liv called back as Whiskey took off down the sidewalk. “Sorry, Miriam, gotta run.”

Liv and Whiskey practically ran the rest of the way to Town Hall. Liv didn’t even reprimand him. She needed to see Ted before he left for the parade.

Ted was just coming out the door as they reached the Events Office.

“Who’s my favorite dawg?” Ted crooned.

“Aroo-roo-roo.”

Ted laughed. “Yankee doodle…”

“Arroo-roo-roo.”

“Ted, come inside, now.”

Song forgotten, Ted followed her back inside. “What’s up?”

She told him about the women at the Buttercup.

“Bunch of old—well, never mind, there’s always a few.”

“So, have you heard from Bill this morning?”

“Yes, and don’t worry. Leo is a witness, not a suspect.”

Liv let out a huge pent-up sigh. “Bill won’t charge him?”

“No. Not unless he gets some real evidence.” He eased Liv’s latte out of the tray, flipped the tab of the cup top back. “Drink. We’ve got a parade to attend.”

“In a minute,” Liv said. “Who signaled the SOS?”

Ted frowned. “I assume Rundle must have.”

“A.K. said he bled out almost immediately. So he couldn’t have.”

“Maybe he… I don’t know, Liv. Let Bill figure it out. Now, I’ve got to get over to the parade start.”

“Okay, but listen to this.”

Ted tilted his head and looked at her. “Yes?” he said patiently.

“Miriam Krause was at the newsstand this morning and Mr. Valenski said Hildy picked up Henry Gallantine’s newspaper this morning. Why would she do that?”

Ted’s eyes widened slightly. “A creature of habit, maybe.”

“Or she knows where Henry is.”

“Or she knows where Henry is. I’ll call Bill on my way over. Unless you want to.”

“Not me.”

Ted grinned. “Want me to be the one who gets in trouble?”

“Hey, I didn’t ask any questions. I was just walking to work like I do every day, minding my own business…”

“Uh-huh. Now, you sit down at your desk and drink your coffee and then go get a good seat for the parade.”

“I was thinking of maybe watching from my office window.”

Ted raised an eyebrow. “This is not the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. It’s more fun down in the thick of it.”

“I wasn’t worried so much about the fun, as I thought it would give me a good bird’s-eye view.”

“So you can see any snafus as they occur? And what on earth would you be able to do from up here?”

“Call you?”

“I’m turning off my cell. See you on the sidelines.” He slipped out the door before she could answer.

She gave Whiskey his biscuit and went to her office to look out the window. She could see Ted striding down the street.

“He wouldn’t really turn off his phone, would he?”

“Arf,” said Whiskey and curled up on his pillow where he proceeded to demolish the doggie star.

• • •

Liv found a place for herself near the grandstand. The crowd was three deep in some places, children sitting on the curb in front of the lawn chairs, people standing behind.

The parade was everything Liv had expected from a small-town celebration. It was led by Mayor Worley, smiling and waving from the front of a vintage Cadillac convertible, his brilliantined hair catching the light and shining from sea to sea. He was followed by the reenactment army, looking a little bleary-eyed from their battle and, Liv suspected, an after-reenactment party at McCready’s Pub the night before.

She was surprised to see slings and bandages and even one guy on crutches. Daniel Haynes led the cadre on horseback, and Liv couldn’t blame the soldiers for keeping a good distance behind the horse. Haynes didn’t look extremely happy to be there, but at least he didn’t have to march. Those uniforms had to be sweltering in the sun.

Liv just hoped they were staying hydrated.

“So, what do you think so far?” Ted asked, slipping in behind her.

“It’s great. The army has even bandaged itself up like they have been in a real battle.”

Ted snorted a laugh. “Those are real and mostly self-inflicted. It’s the same every year. Scrapes and cuts and whatnot. I was just talking to Rufus and Roscoe at the starting location. Winston Carew tripped over a root and knocked his tooth out. He spent most of the battle at the dentist’s office. Clarence Moffat broke his collarbone jumping from a rock. One of the new guys had five stitches where he walked into a Do Not Enter sign in the parking lot. A few miscellaneous cuts and bruises. Surely the original patriots were more coordinated than these guys.” He chuckled. “Even Daniel Haynes sprained his ankle when his foot caught in his stirrup as he tried to dismount. Almost missed the whole thing taking a call of nature right before the signal sounded.” He laughed. “And a good time was had by all. You gotta love them.”

“I don’t suppose they get workmen’s comp.”

“No. But they do have to sign a waiver form so that the Reenactment Committee is not held responsible for acts of stupidity. All right, I’ve got to make sure the floats are fanning off at the end and not blocking traffic in front of the post office. See you later.”

His last words were drowned out as the high school marching band stopped in front of the grandstand. They were followed by several antique cars, a fire engine, and a police bagpipe-and-drum corps. There was a group of young girls twirling batons and wearing sequined outfits and another group of tap dancers from a nearby dance school.

Two trucks of veterans came next, one filled with young men and women returned home from the current fighting around the globe, and another where five wizened old men, survivors of World War II, sat in one corner, holding on for dear life. Liv thought they should have gotten a smaller, more comfortable vehicle. They looked very lonely up there by themselves. But they were cheered just as enthusiastically as everything and everyone else.

Floats were sponsored by local businesses, churches, service organizations, and schools. And in between came clowns, Boy and Girl Scouts carrying banners, parents pulling their children or pets in wagons decorated with crepe paper, convertibles carrying dignitaries.

Kids from the community center pushed shopping carts along the parade route for people to fill with canned foodstuffs for the food pantry. Liv saw Roseanne Waterbury, but Leo wasn’t there, and she thought how much he would have liked to walk in the parade.

An Uncle Sam walking on stilts bowed and doffed his top hat to the crowd. Celebration Bay was nothing if not patriotic, and on July Fourth they outdid themselves.

Every fire engine in the area must have been in attendance, honking their horns to the delight of the children. Liv shuddered to think what would happen if there were a fire somewhere. Would they just pull out of the parade and rush to put it out?

Ida and Edna, riding on the DAR float, spotted Liv and waved. The flatbed was crowded with people who could trace their ancestors back to the War for Independence. All standing or sitting in front of a giant depiction of the original thirteen states made from crepe-paper flowers. The float stopped in front of the grandstand to be adjudicated by a panel of judges before moving on.

Next came clowns stuffed into an old VW bug, which stopped every few yards for the clowns to jump out and perform a Chinese fire drill.

The Garden Club’s “Where Democracy Found Fertile Ground” float followed the clowns and also stopped at the grandstand. Liv thought it looked like Dexter Kent’s nursery had been transferred to the flatbed. The members sat on bales of hay in their patriotic outfits.

Liv enjoyed it immensely. The only thing she missed was Chaz Bristow making snarky comments.

She couldn’t imagine where he was or what he was doing, but she could be sure it involved sleeping and fishing… and really, couldn’t he just do that here?

Someone nudged her.

“Forget something?” she asked, turning around. But it wasn’t Ted.

Roseanne Waterbury, who must have finished the march, looked serious and worried.

“Can I talk to you?” she asked.

“Sure,” Liv said, wondering what on earth she could need to talk about. “Would you like to come to the office?”

Roseanne nodded.

“Fine. When would you like to come?”

“Now. Please, it’s important.”

“Of course.”

They squeezed through the crowd that had bottlenecked around the grandstand and went inside. Whiskey, who had been left inside for the festivities, met them at the door. He saw Roseanne and began dancing at her feet. She crouched down to pet him.

“Would you like a bottle of water?” Liv asked. “I’m afraid it’s all we have.”

“No… thank you.” Roseanne bit her lip. She’d matured during the last school year. When Liv first met her, she’d been a tall, skinny girl with cinnamon-colored hair that she usually wore in a long braid down her back. Today her hair was pulled back into a high, messy bun. She was wearing jean shorts and a tight-knit white camisole with blue stars sprinkled across the front. She’d developed a few curves in the last few months.

“Come on in and sit down.”

Whiskey led the way into Liv’s office, and when Roseanne sat down, Whiskey sat down beside her chair.

As soon as Liv pulled up a chair, Roseanne blurted out, “Everybody’s saying Leo killed Mr. Rundle.”

Taken aback, it took Liv a second to recover. “Everyone?”

“Well, no. But a bunch of kids were saying it this morning when we were waiting for the parade to begin.”

And if kids are saying it, that means their parents are, too
, thought Liv.

“And one of the center kids took a punch at one of them and there was a big fight. It isn’t fair. Leo didn’t even get to be in the parade today because Bill Gunnison thought there might be trouble. And there was.”

“How did you find this out, that Bill said there might be trouble?”

“We were supposed to pick Leo up to go to the parade this morning. But when Dad got in the truck he said Leo wasn’t going. And when I asked why, he told me that Mr. Gunnison called to say Mr. Rundle had been killed and they’d taken Leo in for questioning.”

Roseanne’s eyes were dark and intense, and Liv had an uncomfortable feeling she knew where this was going.

“It’s just for questioning,” Liv assured her. “As a witness.”

Roseanne shook her head. “You have to help him.”

“I’m sure Bill is investigating thoroughly.”

“I know, but you helped my dad when he was accused. He might still be in jail if not for you.”

Liv shook her head.

“And everybody knows you’re the one who solved that murder at Christmas.”

“Rosie, stop right there. I nearly got myself killed at Christmas because I was clueless. And your dad would never have been charged. And Leo won’t be either.”
If he’s innocent
, she wanted to add, but she didn’t. She also started to say that the sheriff was more concerned about Leo’s safety, but thought better of it. She didn’t want to give any false hope.

“Please, just come. I told him you’d bring Whiskey. He’s good for when you’re feeling down, aren’t you, boy?” She reached down to scratch Whiskey’s head. “He’s at Pastor Schorr’s and I told him I’d bring you both. Maybe you could talk to him.”

“Wait, why is he at Pastor Schorr’s? I thought you said he couldn’t come to the parade.”