by Sara Rosett
Assess your kids’ schedules as well because everything they do, you do. For your sanity, you might need to limit after-school activities. We all want our kids to be well rounded and have plenty of opportunities. You can still let your kids try activities and keep your schedule from getting too packed. Look for short-term classes at community colleges or parks and recreation centers. These classes usually last a few weeks and will let your kids try activities. If they find something they like, you can look for a long-term class and work it into your schedule. If they hate the activity, you’re not locked into a contract for a year. Some schools have after-school activities and clubs that run for a few weeks.
Chapter Eleven
Carrie’s wispy voice was unmistakable as she said, “I don’t think we’re doing enough.”
This statement was met with a short silence and then a few protests. I thought it was Stephanie who said, “I understand your frustration but, overall, we’re making progress. The photo in the newspaper—”
Carrie interrupted Stephanie. “I know the signs and marches are drawing attention, but we need to do more. There are people dying and we’re sitting here in our comfy world, ignoring it. I think we should do something that will wake people up.”
I walked over to the handrail at the edge of the loft and looked down at the group of women gathered in Stephanie’s living room. The foreshortened view was an odd one, but I picked out Carrie right away. She stood beside several posters that were propped up along one wall. I shifted and managed to read a few of the posters upside down. “Peace Now” and “Bring Them Home” seemed to be the main theme. I squinted and tilted my head to read one of the more wordy ones, WE’RE NOT THE WORLD’S POLICE.
Another woman who had short gray hair and glasses said, “Carrie’s right. We need something dramatic. A group of people with signs isn’t enough to get the attention we need. Think about PETA, throwing red paint on people wearing fur, and Green—”
Stephanie’s voice cut through the rising murmurs of the group and I was surprised at her unrelenting tone. “We’re here to raise awareness, not to participate in exploits that will get our members arrested. Joyce, you know radical publicity stunts would do very little to persuade people to join our side, especially if they believe we’re extremists. Our role in North Dawkins is to raise awareness and create an atmosphere where we can dialogue with people about military intervention. This is a conservative area and if we’re thought of as fanatics we’ll lose any chance we have to persuade people.”
Carrie jumped in when Stephanie took a breath. “But how are we going to dialogue with people when no one knows we’re here? We need something to put us on the map. Joyce and I have a plan to raise our profile. In fact, we did a little test run that was quite successful.”
Stephanie cut in quickly, “Any activity has to go through the Peace Now Activities Committee. And it must follow our guidelines of nonviolence.” Carrie opened her mouth to say more, but Stephanie swept on, saying, “With that in mind, let me remind you that our march last Saturday at Taylor Air Force Base was a success. We had a good turnout and even made the North Dawkins Standard.”
“Sure we made the paper,” Carrie said as she tossed her head to get her hair out of her eyes, “but how many people who work at the base saw us? We should have our march during the week. The base is almost deserted on weekends, so we still didn’t have an impact on the base population.”
Joyce chimed in. “Carrie’s made an excellent point. On the newspaper issue, what we need is coverage in the Atlanta newspapers, not our local rag. That’s where we should aim.”
Carrie nodded her head emphatically.
Stephanie held up her hands. “Joyce. Carrie. Please, no more interruptions. Our strategy is not up for discussion. It’s already laid out. We’re focusing on our local area. Regional and national expansion will come in time, but we’re building our base here in North Dawkins.”
A few notes of music sounded from my cell phone and I lunged for it, cutting off “Maniac” as quickly as I could. A few curious faces had turned up at the noise, including Carrie’s. I had a text message from Dan. He’d also sent me photos. I squinted at the pictures, but they were too small to see any details. The side of the coin with the replica of the patch had the same black area as Denise’s coin. On the small screen of my phone, the black area was a blob and only grew fuzzier as I zoomed in on it. I sent the photos to my e-mail account at home and quickly packed my supplies. By the time I’d finished cleaning up and had left Stephanie a note about what I’d done this week, the noise level downstairs had risen. It sounded like the meeting was breaking up. I went down the stairs and slipped into the short passageway through the butler’s pantry toward the kitchen.
“I told you she wouldn’t get it.” The words weren’t whispered, but they were quietly spoken and I stopped short, instinctively realizing the people in the kitchen didn’t want to be overheard. I backed up a step as Carrie’s breathy voice continued, “She can’t see past the idiotic guidelines.” Heels clicked on the hardwood floor behind me and I knew that if I tried to backtrack and leave through the front door, I’d run into more of the women from Stephanie’s meeting.
You wouldn’t think it would be a big deal if my path crossed with one of the committee women, but only two weeks ago I’d heard Stephanie yelling at the landscapers because they’d interrupted a pool party she was hosting. She didn’t want “the help” to be seen. I’d rather not lose a client, if I could help it, so I stayed put in the shadowy passageway. Maybe the women would clear out quickly.
I could still hear the women in the kitchen. “True. Well, we had to give it a try.” The speaker took a few steps into my line of vision as she set her coffee cup down in the sink. I recognized the gray-haired woman with the glasses, Joyce, who’d been nodding in agreement with Carrie during the meeting. “Stephanie would have been a valuable ally since she’s got so many connections in North Dawkins. It’s a shame she’s so close minded.”
“We don’t need her.” Carrie’s voice dropped even more. “I tried out my idea yesterday. So easy. I got everything I needed at Publix and no one suspected a thing. And, there’s no way to connect us to it. Tomorrow we can set off a few—”
She broke off as more people entered the kitchen. The words “set off a few” seemed to ring in my ears. There were only a few things you “set off.” Firecrackers and explosives being the two that came to my mind first. There was some chatter and clanking of plates and coffee cups, then all the women left the kitchen together. Once the room was empty, I waited a few beats, then shot through it like a mouse scurrying along a baseboard. I navigated through the garage and hurried to my minivan, which was parked on the street.
A wall of heat hit me as I climbed in the minivan. It felt like I could bake bread in there. I started the engine, cranked the A/C, and rolled the windows down a few inches to let some of the heat escape. I sat in the minivan chewing on my lip, considering what I should do. My stomach growled and I realized it was after one o’clock and I hadn’t eaten, so I dug a few Hershey’s kisses out of my tote and peeled back the foil. I always thought better when chocolate was part of the process.
It had sounded like Carrie and Joyce were planning to set off some explosions. A good citizen would report that to the police, but I was reluctant to call them right this moment. I chomped more melting chocolate. For one thing, I had about ten minutes before I needed to be back at home to relieve Anna, and I knew that it could take forever to get my information to the police and answer all the questions they’d have for me. The other factor that held me back was that I’d overheard snippets of conversation. What if I was wrong? And, I needed to look at the photos Dan had sent me. I might as well wait and see if my hunch about the coins was right. If I was right, I’d have to call Detective Waraday anyway and I could tell him about Carrie then.
As I watched the women drift toward their cars, I spotted Carrie and Joyce walking down the driveway. Carrie waved to her, called o
ut, “See you tomorrow,” and then drove away in a blue Accord. The older woman went to a beige minivan and drove in the opposite direction. At least it didn’t sound like they were planning to “set off” anything right away.
After I’d paid Anna and settled the kids in their rooms for a “rest time”—they were way too grown-up to have a naptime—I looked at the pictures from Dan. They were excellent and on my computer I could see every detail. I compared the photos to the coin we’d received in the mail. The coins were exactly the same. Each one had an etching of the refueling jet on one side and a replica of the squadron patch on the opposite side with the hawk on the shield of yellow and blue. And each coin had a small black area on the blue section. I zoomed in and studied the black blob on the photograph, then got up and pulled a magnifying glass out of Nathan’s bug-catcher kit. Even though the magnifying glass was rimmed in bright green plastic, it worked just fine and magnified the small daub of paint. It was a skull and crossbones.
Most people want to look younger than they are, but I suspect for those people who do actually look younger than their real age, it can be a real pain, especially when you’re the head of the criminal investigation unit of the Dawkins County Sheriff’s Office. Even though it had been over a year since I’d seen Detective Waraday, he still looked like he’d just received his high school diploma and tossed his cap in the air about an hour ago.
The kids were in their rooms so the house was fairly quiet and I found myself nervously tidying up construction paper and crayons from the kitchen island while he clicked through the pictures from Dan and compared them to the coin on the table. I hadn’t had any lunch and a headache was beginning to gnaw at my temples. My stomach let out an audible growl and I decided it wouldn’t be rude to eat in front of Detective Waraday if I offered him a sandwich, too.
I pulled out bread and sliced turkey. He turned down the sandwich, but accepted a glass of iced tea. It sat on the other end of the island, water beads gathering on the glass, as he focused on the computer. I poured myself another tall glass of iced tea and sat down to eat my sandwich.
When I’d called him fifteen minutes ago, I’d said my name and then to refresh his memory, I’d said, “You interviewed me when you were investigating the Jodi Lockworth case.”
“I remember you, Mrs. Avery,” he’d said and even with his Southern accent, the words had been curt. The fact that I knew about a slipup on his part during the earlier investigation probably didn’t help endear me to him. I got the message that he didn’t want to be reminded of that case, so I got right to the point and told him what I’d found and that it might be linked to Colonel Pershall’s death. I’d expected tons of questions, but he’d only said, “I’m in the area. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Now he looked up and said, “I’ll need a copy of these photographs.”
“I can forward them to you,” I said. He stepped back. I dusted the crumbs from my fingers, feeling better since I’d had something to eat. I moved over to the chair and typed in his e-mail address as he gave it to me. He used a pencil from my desk to edge the coin into an evidence bag, then sat down at the island and pulled out a small notebook. “Now, tell me about the coins.”
He stopped me several times to ask questions and clarify points. Finally, he said, “So we have three identical coins, sent to three separate people, each of whom has had some sort of accident in the past few days,” he summarized. I’d told him about Mitch’s accidents earlier
I nodded, then added, “One of them fatal.”
He didn’t say anything, but stared at the photo of the coin on the computer monitor. “Where do you get these coins?”
“The squadron hands them out when someone in-processes, but you can buy them over the Internet. One of Mitch’s old commanders had a specific coin made to hand out at his retirement ceremony.”
“Where’s the leaf blower?” he asked.
“One of Mitch’s friends has it. He’s having an electrician look it over.” I wiped my hand over the counter, collecting a few stray crumbs.
“And I suppose the tire is in a pile at a service station somewhere, or has it already been scrapped to make a playground?”
“I’m afraid so,” I said as I dropped the crumbs in the sink. “We didn’t realize anything was wrong until the dry ice explosion. You do have that, or what’s left of it. A deputy came and took our statements after the explosion. We didn’t make the connection about the coins until I saw Mitch’s original squadron coin this morning and realized it was different from the one we’d received in the mail.”
He looked up from his notebook. “Anything else?”
“Well, yes. Today I overheard a conversation.” I repeated what Carrie had said. I also relayed what Mitch had told me about Carrie’s unexpected reaction when he returned Ryan’s daily planner.
When I got to the part about Carrie, his pen paused and without raising his head, he looked at me. “You think Carrie Kohl is behind the plastic bottle explosions and the coins? You think the two things are connected, that Carrie Kohl has some sort of vendetta against the squadron?”
“I don’t know. It’s possible. I’m just telling you what I know.”
He dropped his gaze back to his notebook and, even though it was miniscule, I saw a slight shake of his head. He finished writing, then put the pen and notebook away with a finality that indicated he thought my information was less than important. “Mrs. Avery. I understand Mrs. Pershall is your friend, but some interesting evidence has come to our attention in that case.”
So they’d uncovered Denise’s divorce preparations.
Waraday continued, “Our investigation is focused exactly where it should be and trying to distract us with these minor incidents doesn’t help Mrs. Pershall.”
A flare of anger raced through me. My heart began to pound. “I’m not saying they are related, but shouldn’t you investigate to find out?”
“Oh, we will, Mrs. Avery, but don’t set your hopes on this. The most obvious answer is usually the right one.” He took a sip of his tea and looked up, surprised. “This is excellent. Most people don’t put in enough sugar.”
“I grew up in Texas and my husband’s from Alabama. We may have lived all over the U.S., but we know how to make iced tea.” Still irritated with him, my voice was sharp.
He ignored the tone and drained the glass in a few gulps. “Yes, you do.” He set it down with a click and stood. “We’ll follow up on this information.” He didn’t say it, but his attitude clearly indicated not to expect any big changes.
His phone buzzed and he checked it. His whole demeanor shifted into a more serious mode. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Avery,” he said as he walked to the door. “We’ll be in touch.”
I watched him drive away, surprised that he turned right at the end of our street into the new section of the neighborhood, instead of left, which would have taken him out of Magnolia Estates. I frowned at the large pond at the end of our street. A few new homes broke the monotony of trees on the far side of the pond. I saw his unmarked car flit past the openings in the trees as he drove up the street’s steep incline. The car was visible for a few seconds through a break in the pines at the top of the hill, then the solid barrier of trees blocked him from view. The way he’d left so quickly indicated he had some place he needed to be, but why would that be in the nearly deserted new section of our neighborhood?
I heard a soft scraping sound behind me and turned to see Rex slinking into the kitchen with my precious blue scarf dangling from his mouth. A long string of blue ran from it back to the basket in the living room where I’d been stashing the project when I wasn’t working on it.
“Rex!” I yelled. He dropped it immediately and made for his kennel, his head low.
I raced over and carefully picked up the scarf, like it was an accident victim. I felt like I should call for an ambulance. All those hours of work and now it was full of holes and dog slobber.
I picked up the phone and dialed Denise’s
number. When she answered, I said, “I have a knitting emergency.”
“Bring it over,” she replied without hesitation.
The garage door rattled up at the usual time that afternoon and I breathed a sigh of relief. Mitch had called me when he landed to let me know his flight was over and that he was heading home.
He opened the door and there was the usual chaos for a few minutes with Rex trotting down the hall, barking, and Livvy and Nathan shouting, “Dad’s home!” When everything had calmed down and I shooed the kids outside to play in the sandbox, I turned and saw Mitch checking out the coin photographs on the computer.
“They’re the same,” he said flatly as he clicked the mouse.
“I know. I called Waraday. He took ours. I told him about Denise’s, but no one’s been by her house to pick hers up. I had a knitting disaster. Basically, Rex ate my scarf, so I went over to Denise’s after naptime and she helped me salvage what I could.”
I’d calmed down enough that I could talk about it without clenching my fists and I thought I was being very reasonable, but then Mitch, his face deadly serious, said, “And were you able to save it?”
I punched his arm and said, “Okay, I know it’s only knitting, but I worked hard on that scarf and to see it strung out across the living room carpet was upsetting, but, yes, Denise was able to help me fix it.”
“Well, thank goodness.”
I ignored his mock seriousness and continued, “I was going to call her anyway and let her know about the coins. I’d want to know if the police were on the way to my house, but it doesn’t look like Waraday’s taking the coin thing too seriously. No one came by to look at her coin while I was there. Although, Waraday did want to know where the tire and the leaf blower were, so maybe he’ll follow up with that.”
