by Helen Gray
“We’ll sit behind you girls,” Kyle said, moving farther behind Toni and Jenny. As he and John arranged their chairs, the sound of a siren reached them. It was the fire engine leading the parade.
After the fire engine came the banner and color guard, and then the band. Troubled, Toni searched for Gabe as the band came into sight, and had no trouble spotting him since the trombones led the musicians. He was marching and playing, but she thought he looked as if he had to force his body to keep in step. She couldn’t tell if those were lines of strain around his mouth because of the large mouthpiece covering it. If he was hurt, as Garrett suspected, she gave him credit for sheer guts.
Once the band had passed, they watched floats and a variety of antique cars and trucks roll by. A float loaded with Fall Festival royalty followed them. Then there were floats representing school and community organizations, as well as some of private businesses. The saddle club brought up the rear, as always.
When the parade ended and cars began rolling into the street, Kyle stood and folded his chair. “Toni and I will go pick up Gabe and meet you guys at the festival grounds to check out the crafts,” he told the other couple.
Jenny grinned. “You mean look for old friends.”
“And food.” He smacked his lips and hopped to the ground.
They drove to the school and waited for Gabe to come out of the building. Knowing what she now did, Toni thought her oldest son did a good job of climbing into the truck as if he felt normal. Being a gutsy kid didn’t keep her from worrying about him, though.
As soon as the boys were settled in the back seat, Kyle drove across town to the city greenway and circled around until he found a parking place behind a restaurant. They hiked across the street and met John and Jenny at the edge of the lawn where craft and food booths, demonstrations, live entertainment, and a carnival peppered the greenway.
“Is it okay if we walk around by ourselves?” Gabe asked.
“That’s fine,” Toni said. “But you’ll need some money for food.” She took her purse from her shoulder and dug out her wallet. As soon as she handed some bills to Gabe, and then Garrett, they headed toward a pizza vendor. Not surprising, since it was almost noon—and they were growing boys.
The adult foursome joined the crowd that milled about amongst the displays and vendors. In a town the size of Clearmount, everyone knew nearly everyone else, and loved this homecoming event where former residents came from miles around to see old friends and family. Toni scanned the throng and spoke to several people as they began to circle the area.
When they passed a cluster of picnic tables to their right, she recognized four couples sitting at one of them, eating burgers and cotton candy.
Allen Lawson, the local chiropractor, always reminded her of an ice cream cone. His head was shaped like a cone, wide at the top and coming to a point at the chin, with a round mop of butterscotch hair on top. His wife Karen, who was the physical therapist at the nursing home, sat beside him, her pretty face marred by a scowl. Both their expressions gave Toni the impression of a couple in conflict.
Stuart and Tara Hartman, both having shed their busy-bee professional school appearance for casual jeans and jackets, sat across from the Lawsons. Stuart was the special education coordinator, and Tara taught in the middle school.
The attorney, Bart Ramsey, tall and brown haired, had a serious under-bite that made his chin jut forward in a way that reminded Toni of a camel. Connie, his petite wife who worked in his office, sat staring across the table at Stuart Hartman.
Construction contractor Frank Chandler had a mane of hair like a golden lion, while his wife, Lisa, had the personality of a kitten. She was a nurse.
Toni almost giggled aloud as she realized what a menagerie she had concocted in her mind.
Her little foursome stopped at the end of the walkway where a “grandstand” had been fashioned from a wagon bed with festive ribbons and streamers flying from it. Local entertainers would perform there throughout the afternoon, featuring gospel groups, cloggers, bands, and a variety of aspiring solo vocalists. The cluster of spectators continually grew as people found seats to listen to a young lady on the stage who gripped a microphone as she belted out a song.
Walking over and standing behind the seating area, Toni tapped her foot, her attention on the singer. A sudden sharp yank on the strap of her purse startled her. Before she knew what was happening, the purse was wrenched from her shoulder.
Toni stumbled to her knees, palms spread before her. When she landed, her wrenched left arm buckled. She grabbed it with her right hand, cradling it and clenching her teeth to keep from moaning. She would have landed on her face if Jenny hadn’t grabbed her shoulders.
She looked up to see the thief fleeing across the lawn, John in lumbering pursuit.
“Are you all right?” Kyle asked, his voice sharp with concern, and obviously torn between leaving her and going after the thief.
“Catch him. Get my purse,” she gasped, fighting the nausea rising in her throat.
He raced after them.
Toni watched the figures flying across the lawn, the hooded thief in the lead. He looked back over his shoulder, clutching her purse in his arms. As Kyle gained ground on him and John, the thief swerved off the path, weaving and dodging his way among the festival attendees and shoving at anyone in his way.
“Someone call the cops,” a woman shrieked.
“Are you okay?” Jenny asked, helping Toni to a sitting position on the ground. The singing had stopped, and people had begun to gather around them.
“My arm,” Toni moaned, cradling it to her chest, while continuing to watch their husbands chase after the thief fleeing with her purse.
The person leaped over a dog that ran in front of him, and almost fell, but regained his balance and kept running. But the slight delay allowed Kyle to pass John and gain on the thief, who veered toward the highway, running in an all-out effort to escape. At the edge of the lawn he landed in the shallow ditch and was scrambling for a foothold to get up to the pavement when Kyle made a flying tackle and grabbed his ankles. They went down with a thud that Toni imagined she could hear all the way across the grounds.
As a siren wailed from up the street, Toni kept her gaze on the writhing scuffle. When she pushed to her feet, Jenny gave her a boost and placed an arm around her shoulders. Together they started walking toward the action.
“They’re okay,” Jenny said, tugging Toni to a halt near a grouping of picnic tables beside the paved pathway. They watched as a uniformed deputy came running toward the scene. When he reached the struggling duo in the ditch, he grabbed the thief by an arm. The other flailing arm caught the deputy in the face, but he flattened the guy, yanked the handcuffs from his belt, and snapped them around the culprit’s wrists.
“Sit back down and let me call your mother so she can check that arm,” Jenny ordered. Still sore from previous attacks, Toni let her friend guide her onto the bench of one of the picnic tables where familiar people had been seated earlier. Jenny sat beside her, their backs against the table top. Toni winced when she bumped her arm, but she kept her eyes on the action at the roadside.
As the officer hauled the crook to his feet, Kyle scooped Toni’s purse off the ground. He and John followed the officer and thief back across the greenway to where she and Jenny sat. Toni was amazed to see that the thief was just a kid. And she knew him. Steven Hartman, about sixteen-years-old, was a sophomore at the local high school.
“Hello again, Mrs. Donovan,” Officer Brown said. “Kyle says that purse he’s carrying is yours. Is it?”
She nodded. “That young man yanked it off my arm and ran with it.”
Now she stood and gazed directly at the boy. About five nine, a hundred and fifty pounds, he glared back at her. “Why?” she asked.
Steven’s face twisted into a snarl, and he started to speak. But then he clamped his jaw shut.
“I’m taking him to the station,” the officer said. “The chief will wa
nt to talk to you two.” He indicated Kyle and Toni with head movements. John and Jenny weren’t included.
“We’ll come by in a few minutes,” Kyle promised.
“Okay. That’ll give us time to talk to this young man first.” He marched the kid away.
Chapter 8
“Toni has a sore arm,” Jenny informed their husbands. “I don’t think it’s broken, but I alerted her mom to take a look at it.”
“Why don’t we all rest here a while?” Toni indicated seats at the table and eased down onto the bench. Kyle waited to sit beside her until Jenny and John had circled around to the other side and sat facing them. The spectators had drifted away.
He handed Toni her purse. “Check this.”
She frowned. “I’m sure everything is there. He never had a chance to take anything.”
“It won’t hurt to be sure.”
She gave a rueful shrug and opened the bag. Inside she found her wallet, cell phone, keys, and everything else intact. “It’s all here, but I’m flabbergasted. I assumed that boy is a good kid.”
“Good kids sometimes get mixed up in things that change them,” Kyle said.
Jenny cleared her throat, her expression troubled. “I don’t want to say anything that could be taken as an accusation,” she said slowly. “But I might have a theory about what some of the good kids,” she formed quotes around the word good with her index fingers, “get mixed up in.”
“Drugs?” Kyle’s fatalistic question held a hint of certainty.
Jenny nodded.
“My missing digital balances could figure into that,” John blurted. “They’re used in drug making.”
“Missouri tops the states in meth-making operations,” Toni said slowly. “I can’t help but wonder if drugs had anything to do with Jake’s death.”
“I can’t see Jake dealing,” she continued, in answer to her own question. “He made plenty of money from his business, and he worked long hours in that store.”
Jenny’s mouth tightened. “He also spent a lot of money. He and his circle of friends liked to fly high.”
Toni’s brow pinched together in a frown. “Maybe flying high means more than we realize.”
Jenny’s fingers drummed on the table top, introspection etching lines in her face. “We …”
“What are you thinking?” Toni asked when she hesitated.
“Well,” she began again. “John and I like to bowl.”
Toni had no idea where this could be going.
“That’s the only reason we go out to the bowling alley,” Jenny continued. “But that’s not the case with some people. Several couples, including young Mr. Hartman’s parents, are part of a mixed doubles league. And they party a lot.”
“These are couples who can afford a good time, right?” Kyle’s question was insightful.
Jenny nodded, her red hair swinging around her neck. “We’ve heard that their parties include drugs. They’ve even given themselves a name—the High Rollers.”
Kyle shook his head. “Such a mature bowling pun.”
Jenny grimaced. “I agree.”
“Can you name the ones you see in that particular league?” Toni asked.
Jenny paused, her mouth doing a little twisting movement. “The Crawfords are usually there. And the Hartmans. I recall hearing that Denver and Marty Hewitt like to party with them.”
The Hewitts ran an insurance agency.
“Frank and Lisa Chandler are also usually there,” Jenny continued.
The Chandlers had their own construction business. Frank ran it, and Lisa kept the books.
“What about the Lawsons and Ramseys?” Toni asked, picturing the group who had been at the picnic table earlier.
Jenny nodded. “They’re good friends.”
Allen Lawson’s wife worked in his chiropractor office on her days off at the nursing home, and Bart Ramsey’s wife worked in his law office.
“Luke and Donna Kingsley hang out with them,” Jenny added. “That’s all I can think of. Oh, except the Zambronis. I remember seeing them with the Crawfords a lot. Of course, they own the bowling alley.”
The Zambronis had been quoted as saying they didn’t want to be known as a regular old bowling alley when they built their swanky establishment a couple of years ago. Located about a mile out of town, it had all the modern bells and whistles, including glow-in-the-dark lanes, designed to attract the social set looking for some glitz. John and Jenny didn’t exactly fit that profile, but if they liked to bowl, they had a place they could go. Toni recalled seeing a bowling ball on the Rotary auction table. The Zambronis would likely have donated it.
“If the parents are doing drugs at their parties, their kids have to know about it,” Kyle said. “That means they’re probably experimenting, if not already hooked. And if they’re hooked, the next step is dealing—or making it.”
Toni realized that drugs weren’t just a city problem. “I’m afraid some of them are involved in the smurfing that’s caused the city council to pass that ordinance requiring a prescription to purchase products containing pseudoephedrine,” she said. Runners who worked for drug makers had been flocking here to buy over-the-counter products used in drug making.
“Some of them may also be making the stuff themselves,” John conjectured.
Toni’s eyes narrowed. “You mean that shake-and-bake thing I’ve been reading about?”
John nodded. “All they need is a two-liter soda bottle, a few handfuls of cold pills, and some noxious chemicals.”
“In law enforcement they call it the poor man’s way of making meth,” Kyle added.
It made Toni sick at heart to think that these teenagers might be involved. She couldn’t fathom why people would mess with that lethal stuff. “But these kids aren’t poor. They have money, don’t they?” She looked from one to the other of her companions.
“Their parents have money,” Kyle corrected. “The kids themselves probably don’t have enough of their own to support a drug habit.”
“I hope they’re not messing with that stuff, but I’m afraid they could be.” Jenny started to say more, but John’s cell phone rang.
He answered and spoke to someone briefly. “Gotta go,” he said when he disconnected.
Jenny aimed a firm look at Toni. “You be careful and don’t get hurt anymore.” She turned to Kyle. “You take her to see her mother on your way home.”
With those admonitions, the couple left.
*
“How’s your arm?” Kyle asked when they were alone at the table.
“It’s not hurting so much now,” Toni assured him. And it wasn’t. “I’m fine. I’m past the shock.” She flexed it to prove her point.
He nodded. “Okay. Should we find the boys and take them with us to the police station?”
“They won’t want to go,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Let’s at least check on them.”
They made their way along the path, watching for the faces of their offspring among the crowd. “I see them,” Kyle eventually said, pointing at a food vendor. Exactly what they should have expected.
As they approached, Garrett spotted them and nudged Gabe. The boys walked to meet them.
“We have to go to the police station,” Toni said.
“Do we have to go?” Gabe moaned before she could ask their wishes.
“Will you stay here on the grounds if we let you stay?”
Gabe nodded. “We could use some more money.”
“Yeah, we’re out,” Garrett added.
Kyle pulled out his wallet and handed Gabe a ten. “Share it, and keep an eye out for us. We should be back in an hour or so.”
They made slow progress through the heavy traffic. The police station was in the heart of town, on the same street as the library, city hall, and the post office.
It was about one o’clock when Toni and Kyle entered Buck Freeman’s office. His white hair was rumpled and in need of a trim. Bags under his eyes and a salt and pepper stubble
on his face made him look as if he had lost a lot of sleep.
He motioned them to the seats before his desk. Then he tipped his chair back and rubbed a hand across his jaw. His gaze took in every detail of Toni’s appearance, as if calculating how and why she was here—again.
“Do you have any idea why the Hartman boy snatched your purse?” he asked gruffly.
She returned his near glaring look. “I don’t have a clue. I assume he wanted money.”
The chief leaned forward in his chair. His expression and tone softened. “Okay, I didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers. I just wanted to be sure.”
She eased back in the chair.
He picked up the folder on his desk and opened it. “The kid says he found an envelope in his car seat with his name on it. It contained a hundred dollar bill and a note telling him to get that nosy Donovan teacher’s purse and put it in the garbage can behind the Railroad Bar. When that was done, two more hundreds would be his.”
Kyle nodded at the folder. “Do you have the note there?”
Buck heaved a weighty sigh. “Unfortunately, I don’t. The boy said it also instructed him to get rid of the note. And he did.”
“So he says,” Toni said with a snort of disbelief.
Buck shrugged. “I can’t be sure, but I think he’s probably telling the truth. He was so detailed that I don’t think he made up any of it. So he probably did as instructed. What I can be sure of is his cell phone records.”
He thumbed through the pages in the folder and spread the contents on the desk. “We found several text messages that suggest he’s messing around with drugs.”
“You mean teen lingo and codes.” Kyle’s words held a knowledgeable ring.
Without smiling, Buck picked up the sheet of paper and read from it. “Here are some examples. PAL means parents are listening. AITR means adults in the room. DOC is drug of choice.” He put it down. “We’re tracing where the messages containing those codes came from, hoping they’ll lead us to all those involved.”
“Do you think they’re doing meth, or are we talking about more expensive drugs?”
