by Gemma Bruce
She shook her blue perm. “This is Ex Falls. The only thing you need a permit for is hunting deer.”
“Thank you,” said Julie, flashing a smile at Edith over her shoulder. She began gathering up the papers.
Cas stood up. “Maybe I should take a look around.”
“I already looked. She’s gone.”
“Oh, dear,” said Edith from across the room. “I hope she wasn’t stolen. Only the one hen?”
Hey, thought Cas. Who was the goddamn sheriff here? He should be asking the questions. But he couldn’t seem to stop smiling.
Julie nodded.
“You’re lucky,” Edith continued. “We’ve had two coops robbed in the last three weeks. Near to seventy hens and roosters.”
Julie turned back to Cas. “There’s a ring of chicken thieves and you didn’t warn me? Ugh.” She nodded brusquely to Edith. “Thank you for the information.” She crammed her hat back on her head and started for the door.
Cas jumped up and practically fell over his desk trying to snag his coat off the coat rack. “I’ll help you put up the posters, then we’ll take a look up at your place.” He stuffed his arm in one sleeve while he tried to open the door for Julie. She opened it herself and took off down the street.
“Happy hunting,” called Edith as Cas hurried after her.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about the chicken thieves,” Julie grumbled while she held the first paper up and Cas stapled it to a telephone pole.
“I didn’t want to worry you.” And I didn’t want you to be afraid to stay at Excelsior house.
“Worry me?” said Julie, moving to the next telephone pole. “Hell, I scared them off the first time they tried, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” said Cas. He took a sheet of paper from her and stapled it to the pole. And nearly shot me while you were doing it. “Thieves don’t usually strike a second time in the same place.”
Julie stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared at him. “That is so much bullshit. You know, you should really stick to banking.”
“Boats,” said Cas. “I build boats.”
He thought her expression softened—for a millisecond—before she let go again.
“Then go build boats. I don’t understand why you’d want to be sheriff anyway. Jeez.” She stalked off across the street and Cas had to trot to catch up to her.
“I don’t want to be the sheriff. I told you. I didn’t have a choice.”
Julie rounded on him. “Of course you did. People always have a choice. It’s what they choose that counts.” She lifted another poster to be stapled.
His free hand closed over hers, crumpling the paper. “Julie. What are you mad about?”
She pulled her hand away and lowered her eyes. “I have to find Ernestine.” She smoothed the paper against the next pole.
Cas leaned over her and stapled the top of the paper to the wood. “Tell me.”
Julie slipped out from under his arm, and by the time Cas finished stapling the bottom, she was walking into Pliney’s Hardware, Feed and Grain.
A bell tinkled over his head when Cas opened the door. Julie was at the counter and Dan Pliney was taping the last reward poster to his display case. Henry Goethe, Elton Dinwiddie and two other men were sitting at the woodstove, their eyes riveted on Julie’s back, and Cas felt a surge of unwarranted jealousy.
“Gentlemen,” he said, and four heads snapped in his direction.
“Julie here’s lost a hen,” said Dan.
“Damn, uh, pardon me, ma’am.” Elton spit into the fire. “But damn, Cas. This has got to stop. You just gonna sit there until there’s not a chicken left in the county?”
“Elton, that’s not fair,” said Dan. “Cas can’t help it if he doesn’t know jack shit, pardon, Julie, about law enforcement. He’s a banker.”
“Boats,” said Cas. “I build boats.”
“Well, we don’t need a damn banker. We need a few real men with shotguns,” said a third man, who Cas recognized as Arnold Baxter, Henley’s father.
Cas sighed. “This—”
Julie overrode him. “This is a job for the local law enforcement. An investigation is in progress. If you’d like to help, keep your eyes open and report any suspicious activity to the sheriff. He’s doing an excellent job. Thank you, Dan.” She pushed her hat back onto her head, tipped her head toward the seated men, and walked out the door.
Cas forced himself not to run after her. He had just reached the door, when he heard Baxter’s lowered voice. “Yeah, I bet he’s doing an excellent job. On her, anyway.”
Like father, like son, thought Cas. He looked to see if Julie had overheard, but she was already striding down the sidewalk toward the hotel. He dismissed both Baxters from his mind and hurried after her.
“I’m doing an excellent job?”
“You’re doing the best you can,” she said and kept walking.
“Now where are you going?”
“To the hotel. I want to talk to your sister.”
“Christine doesn’t know anything about chickens.”
“Your other sister.”
“Mel? Why?”
She turned on him at the entrance. “Because she lives at Reynolds Place and I thought she could look for Ernestine in case she somehow got over the wall.”
“I’ll look for you.”
Julie sighed. “Cas. I appreciate your concern, but you have a whole town to look after. Ernestine is not your problem. And Reynolds would have a fit if he found out what you were doing.”
“And you think he won’t have a fit if Mel looks?”
“I don’t think Mel will really care.”
“And you think I would.”
Julie didn’t answer but opened the door and went inside.
Christine hurried toward them, smiling. “Lunch?” she said, almost squeaking the words.
“Thanks,” said Julie, “but I was hoping to talk to Mel.”
“Oh. She’s still at school.”
Funny, thought Julie, she could have sworn she saw a black spiked head more than once while she and Cas were putting up signs.
“When will she be in?”
“Around three-thirty, give or take a few minutes.” Christine sighed. “With Mel you never know.”
“Mind if I come back then?”
Christine shook her head, glancing at Cas. “Of course not. Would you like something? Coffee, tea? It’s getting cold out there.”
“Thanks, but I have errands to do. I’ll see you later.” Julie nodded to Christine then turned and walked past Cas as if he’d suddenly disappeared. He shrugged at his sister and followed Julie out.
“Now, where are you going?”
“To the library.”
“Why? You’re out of posters, and hardly anyone goes there anyway.”
“Because,” she said patiently. “I don’t have access to the internet at Wes’s. I need to check my e-mail.”
“I have a computer with internet access.”
“I’m sure the library does, too.”
“Theirs is ancient. Mine’s new.”
“Do they have internet access?”
“Dial up. I have cable.”
Julie paused on the sidewalk. “Ex Falls has cable? Wonders of wonders.” She started walking again.
“I’ll show you.”
Julie sighed. “Dial-up is fine.”
“Damn it. Julie. Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? Was it something I did? I may be dense but I thought—”
She raised an eyebrow and kept walking. He walked beside her, wondering what that meant.
She stopped at the steps of the library and said without looking at him, “Do you realize that the whole damn town is watching you follow me around? It was one thing when we had posters to put up. But the last one was gone two stops ago. You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”
“You know, Julie,” said Cas, speaking loud enough for her and half of Main Street to hear. “You sound just like a Reynolds i
nstead of an Excelsior.” Then without waiting to see her reaction, he turned on his heel and strode off down the street.
Julie’s mouth fell open as she watched Cas march away. Okay, so maybe she’d been a little harsh. He’d only been trying to help. Well, too bad. It was a day late ... fifteen years late. She started up the steps. The paint was peeling on the old Memorial Library. The events case hung at an uneven angle, the protective glass was cracked and had been repaired with a piece of duct tape. Behind it, there was only one announcement: a poster for the Candy Apple Dance that weekend.
Julie pushed the door; it rattled but didn’t open. She depressed the lever and pushed again. Then she saw the sign taped to the inside of the glass pane.
Mon, Wed, Fri, 10:00-2:00. Damn. It was closed. She whirled around and saw Cas standing at the corner.
“I get off at five,” he called. Then he turned and took off down the street.
Julie frowned at him. The jerk. He knew the library was closed. And he’d strung her along. Arrgh, she thought. That was just like him. Always talking her into doing stuff. Getting them into trouble. Taking them on flights of fancy that ended in disaster. Cas Reynolds, protégé to the great scamp of life, Wes Excelsior. Shit, how had things gone so wrong?
Julie waited until he was out of sight, then slowly returned to her car, which was parked much too close to the police station. She crept along the sidewalk, feeling like a felon instead of a distinguished citizen.
Right. Well, if Marian Reynolds could play lady of the manor, so could Julie Excelsior. It was time to stop skulking around like she didn’t belong here. She did. This was her town. She lifted her chin, but that was about all she could manage. It would take a while before she could feel anything but embarrassment when it came to Ex Falls. But it would happen. She was the lady of the manor. Even though the manor had seen better days. It might see better days again.
Not by you, she reminded herself. Sell and Bail. That’s our motto. But bailing made her think of boats and boats made her think of Cas and she got a little rush because now she had to go to his house, because she had to retrieve her e-mail. And she might get another peek at his riddle. Maybe even get another peek at him.
It sounded so mercenary. But she knew better than to invest herself in Cas, because she knew where that led. And this time she had no one to drive her to Yonkers.
She climbed into the VW and jacked up the heat. Winter had set in. Soon it would start snowing and she could be trapped here for weeks, months. But then so would Cas.
Don’t think it. She backed out of her spot and drove to the end of town to make a U-turn back toward Highland Avenue. She found herself turning into the Good Shepherd Church parking lot instead.
The church sat slightly higher than the rest of the town. Its old cemetery was enclosed in a wrought iron fence and sloped down toward the river. She hadn’t planned to come here; she wanted to remember Wes alive, not lying in the rocky ground.
But she parked and got out of the car, opened the sagging gate, and stepped into the graveyard. A gust of wind rattled the trees overhead. She buttoned up her coat and began to pick her way through the headstones. Each family had its separate little plot except for the two big families and they had big plots, side by side, a little higher than the others, so they could rest in death just as they had lived in life. Both plots were equally grand, and each had a granite mausoleum as well as graves, all of which were now covered with moss and streaked from rain and snow.
She stopped by the mound of freshly dug soil. There was no marker. And she wondered if she was supposed to have ordered it. Of course she was. Who else would do it? She was family.
A dogwood sapling had been planted at the head of the grave. Someone had placed a bouquet of purple violets on the dirt, tied with a ribbon and anchored by a jagged piece of rock. Stuck inside the ribbon was an orange lollipop. Julie stepped back, shocked.
Hell, everybody must know about Wes’s penchant for orange. She pushed away the stab of jealousy that the sight had unleashed. They were the only tributes at the grave, and Wes deserved more. He deserved for his niece to have thought to send flowers or visit sooner, but she hadn’t been notified of the funeral. No one had even called her to let her know that he was ill.
Not even Wes, though he intended to. Why else have an addressed envelope and a challenge for her to come home?
She dropped to her knees. “Wes,” she began. Cleared her throat. “Uncle Wes? It’s Julie. I came back like you wanted.” And she had to stop because emotion clogged her throat and her eyes were bleary with tears, and she felt sad and deserted and stupid for caring. She took a slow breath. The air shuddered into her lungs and out again. “What do you want me to do? Is it about the treasure? Is it for me or am I supposed to share it with Cas? What is it? I’m out of practice and your clues are too hard.”
She dashed tears off her cheeks. “I’ve lost Ernestine. I don’t think it was my fault, but she’s gone. Someone’s been breaking into chicken houses—coops—I almost caught them the first night I was here.” She sighed. “But I didn’t. Some police officer, huh.
“Then Cas came. He’s the sheriff, but I guess you know that. Or at least knew that before you—before you—” She lifted her hand toward the grave. “Before this. I know you left him a riddle, too. Is it a contest like we used to have? To see who could figure it out first?” She laughed, choked it back before she gave way to blubbering.
“I usually won, didn’t I? Cas said it was because I had a devious mind. But I didn’t. I’m just a good detective. Well, I was a good detective. That’s what I did with my talent. Became a cop. I was going to help people. But things got all screwed up.” She swallowed.
Stop whining. Julie flinched because that was not her thought, but Wes’s.
“You’re right, I don’t know what came over me. I’m pretty tough. Like you said I should be. But I sure wish you were here. You’d like Smitty. Bill and Hillary ride on his back. And—oh, shit.”
She rubbed her eyes with the heels of both hands. Heard the rustle of leaves and a shiver ran up the back of her neck. She turned around. Swore she saw a black head disappear behind the fence. But that was impossible. Mel was in school, maybe. She turned back to Wes’s grave.
“Don’t worry. I’ll find Ernestine. And I’ll find the treasure and I’ll make my choice, whatever it’s going to be. I have to go now, but I’ll come back. I love you.” She turned away and stumbled over the edge of a marker that had been uprooted by a tree root. It was old and the chiseled dates were barely readable. Josiah Excelsior. 1822-1884. She turned away, thinking of Scrooge and the Ghost of Christmas yet to come. And wondered if someday there would be a place here for her.
She turned back to Wes’s grave. “There’s one more thing. I cheated. I found Cas’s half of the riddle and I tried to read it. I know I shouldn’t have, but Cas didn’t tell me about it. Is he trying to beat me to the treasure? Why doesn’t he trust me?” She waited, but no response came. “I know. Use my brain.”
She stepped away, then ran back to the parking lot. At the gate, she stopped and looked back across the garden of granite and marble, and in the distance, the river where once barges carried rifles from the factory to the New York militia. And later woolens from the converted mill. And beyond that, the mill itself, and the cottages, looking like a set for a model train. And she thought, One day I’ll have to go there, too.
Quietly, she closed the gate, and with a brief look around to make sure she was alone, got into the car.
She was driving along Main Street, when she saw Melanie, backpack dragging along the pavement. She slowed down and leaned over to unroll the passenger window. “Hi,” she said, keeping one eye on the street and one eye on the young Goth.
In spite of the cold, Melanie was only wearing a tight black T-shirt and jeans with a length of chain around her waist. She shifted her backpack to her other hand and kept walking.
“Can’t you stop for a minute? I have a favor to ask.”
/>
Melanie didn’t slow down.
“About Ernestine, the chicken.”
At last she stopped and Julie stepped on the brake. There was a skull and crossbones hanging from the ring in her nose, and Julie could imagine how much grief she must give her parents and how much they must give her. But she had to give the girl credit. To choose to be that different in a town like Ex Falls took a lot of guts or a lot of anger. Julie guessed Melanie had a lot of both. And Julie knew just how she felt.
“What about her—the chicken.”
“She’s disappeared. I’ve looked everywhere. I even put up signs around town. I didn’t know there had been chicken thefts or I would have kept a more careful watch.”
“I thought you were going to sell her,” said Melanie in a rigid monotone, and Julie thought, Lighten up, kid. We’re on the same side. “So what do you care if she’s gone? You wouldn’t get that much for her. She lays lou—” Melanie started walking again.
Julie threw the car into first and followed her. She had to stop short when Melanie stepped in front of the car and began to cross the street. When she reached the opposite sidewalk, Julie called out, “She does lay lousy eggs, but I like her and I don’t want anything to hurt her.”
This time, Melanie turned and looked at Julie, so long and hard, that Julie began to get spooked. Finally Melanie said, “You’re weird.”
“Yeah, well. That makes two of us,” said Julie. “And that being the case, I thought maybe you could just look around your property for a wayward hen. Just in case she managed to get over the wall.”
Melanie shrugged. “I guess.” She opened the door to the hotel.
“Thanks. I appreciate it. I’ll write down Wes’s number.” Julie reached into her bag for a pencil and paper.
“I know it.” Mel stepped over the threshold and hesitated, “Are you going to the dance tomorrow night?”
Julie gave her a look. “What do you think?”
“I think you should.”
“Well, I’m not, how about you?”
“What do you think?”
Julie smiled. “I think you should definitely go.” She was almost positive she saw a quirk of Melanie’s lips before she closed the door.
