We heard the sirens then. They seemed to approach from all sides. The first on the scene were from Connersville, followed by Brookville and Metamora One.
Ben grabbed me by the arms and said, “Get home and don’t leave.” Then he was off with his brethren in blue, surrounding the house.
I had no compulsion to stay. It wouldn’t end happily, even if it did end with proof of my innocence.
• Twenty •
A week and a half had passed. The ringing in my ears had passed. Ben’s anger at me might never pass.
“We make a good team,” I said to him on Saturday morning over breakfast, “admit it.”
He stabbed a piece of sausage with his fork. “We’re not a team in the sense of having badges and going up against men with guns and working in a professional capacity investigating cases.” He chewed while staring at me with piercing eyes.
I waited until he swallowed to ask, “Husband and wife?”
“Then yes, we’re a great team.”
At least we had that going for us, and I hadn’t screwed everything up.
“You better hurry up and get ready,” he said, checking the time. “The dog sled man will be here in a half hour.”
It had been a long and harrowing few weeks for Metamora. Starnes had taken his own life rather than being sent to prison for the rest of it, and Lana broke down when she heard the news about her husband’s death. She confessed to killing David Dixon. She’d had no idea Starnes killed Clayton, though. She took Dixon’s life to keep him from telling Starnes about the affair and to stop the blackmail.
The first night of the festival, as she walked casually by one of the ice sculptures, she sneaked one of the artist’s ice picks into her handbag. Then she lured Dixon to the parking lot near the port-o-potties by sending him a text message saying she had money to give him. Instead she gave him a one-way ticket to his own funeral.
When Ben let Jason out of his cell, they shook hands and looked each other in the eye. It wasn’t a major breakthrough, but it was a good first step.
I got up from the kitchen table and headed upstairs to get ready. Mia was in the bathroom fixing her hair, and Monica stood beside her putting on makeup. “You two share a mirror well,” I said.
“Soon we won’t have to share at all,” Monica said, putting her blush brush down. “I got a call from the bank, Cam. They accepted my offer for Dixon’s house!”
“Really? Congratulations!” I gave her a hug while she bounced up and down on her toes, too excited to contain her energy.
“Isn’t that awesome?” Mia said, “I can’t imagine owning anything.”
“You will,” I said. “Someday.” She was the heir to Ellsworth House, so she was standing in what she’d someday come to own.
“You’re happy about this, right?” Monica asked.
“Of course I am. It’s going to be strange without you here, but you’ll be right down the road. We’ll see each other all the time.”
“Every day,” she said.
It still wouldn’t be the same, and I felt a little lonely already thinking about Monica leaving. But I was very proud of her and happy for her. First she opened a business and now she was a homeowner and soon she and Quinn would get married. She’d found everything she’d ever wanted here in Metamora.
“Mom’s moving in today,” she said.
“Today? I thought it was next Saturday.”
“Nope. It’s today. The moving van gets to Hilltop Castle at one o’clock.”
“It’s surreal that both of you will be living here in town. Seems like only yesterday that I was living here and felt alone. Then we snagged Mia and you and now Mom. This town is like a magnet.”
“Maybe it’s not the town,” Monica said. “Maybe it’s you and Ben.”
“Well, for you and Mia, maybe, but it’s Carl for Mom.”
She laughed. “I’ll give you that one.”
“Cam!” Ben shouted from downstairs. “Roy and Johnna are coming up the sidewalk!”
“I’m hurrying!” I called back.
Those two had been hovering around me like a swarm of bees. Having a gun drawn on me made them overprotective. But it was a gesture I understood. They were the older generation in this town, and it was their job to look after the younger ones. That’s how it worked here in Metamora. We all looked after each other like one big annoying, loud, crazy, loving family.
Phillis let us use Landow Farm for the dog sled races with one stipulation: the dogs wouldn’t leave any stinky presents on her property for her to find. Bobsled Bob assured me that his drivers picked up after their teams.
At the starting line, Andy and Cass were in the far lane, with Soapy and Theresa on the inside. Next was Brenda and Will, and in the nearest lane the team hadn’t shown up yet.
“We’ll start in two minutes, if you want to find replacements,” Bob said.
“Who’s missing?” I asked.
He glanced down at his clipboard. “Carl Finch and Angela Cripps.”
“What? My mother’s in a dogsled race?”
Carl’s Mercedes came flying into the lot and parked. He and Mom rushed out of the car and over to us. “We’re here!” Mom said, out of breath.
I just stared at her, speechless.
“Take your place on the sled,” Bob said, pointing to their team and driver.
Monica came up beside me. “She’s happy.”
“I can’t believe she’s on a dogsled. In heels.”
“She’s laughing. Look at her.”
I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen my mom truly laughing. I tilted my head. “She is happy, isn’t she?”
“It’s all worked out for the best.”
It had. I could get used to seeing Mom smile and laugh like that.
It was a shotgun start. My body involuntarily jolted at the sound. Andy and Cass took an early lead, until Cass somehow lost her boot and they had to stop to retrieve it. Soapy and Thersea were neck and neck with Will and Brenda. Mom and Carl seemed to have a lackadaisical team of dogs who would rather sniff the ground and each other than race. In the end, Will and Brenda edged out Soapy and Theresa by a nose.
The next event was the hockey game that Soapy had put together. Ben and I walked hand-in-hand over to the frozen canal that had been cleared and squeegeed to a shine. Soapy had logs brought in and placed on the banks to sit on, like bleachers. He even screen printed some T-shirts big enough to wear over winter coats, with team logos on them. It was the Metamora Mikes versus the Metamora Mills.
Soapy captained the Mikes while no other than Roy captained the Mills. “I hope he hasn’t been drinking,” I said to Johnna, who’d taken up roost on the front-row log and had her knitting out in her lap. “He’ll break his neck out there.”
“That old goat has a few tricks left up his sleeve. Don’t you go worrying about him.”
Ben was on Soapy’s team along with Quinn. Roy had Frank and Andy. The rest of both teams were made up of the older generations who I feared would break a hip. “This is a bad idea.”
“Those men have been living their lives longer than you’ve been living yours. They know what they can and can’t do anymore.”
“I know. I just worry,” I said, watching my father-in-law take the ice.
At least Carl Finch was smart enough to sit this one out while cuddling with Mom and sipping cocoa from a thermos.
“I didn’t know Quinn could ice skate until he signed up on Soapy’s team,” Monica said, sitting down beside me and handing me a paper cup of hot coffee from the Soapy Savant.
“Ben and I went once when we were first dating, but he didn’t strike me as proficient enough to play hockey. This should be interesting.”
“Every man in town is going to end up on the couch with his back out,” joked Monica.
The game started. Ro
y took a fall during the first half and sat on the ice taking a swig from his flask before he got back on his feet. Ben took a spill and went face first into the snow on the bank. Stewart grasped his hand to help him up and ended up falling down beside him.
After a while they determined it would be best to only play until the first team scored and call that a win. A half an hour later, when every member of both teams had found themselves down on the ice at least twice, they just called it a tie.
They all came off the ice smiling, laughing, and patting each other on the back.
Everyone wandered inside the grist mill, where old Dan had graciously given in to Elaina’s pleading and hosted the Kittens in Mittens event.
Two long tables had been set up with name tags taped to the edges. Elaina held her white Persian, whose hair seemed to waft out into the air every time it moved. Since she’d taken to giving the cat a new name each week, I wasn’t sure which name tag was her cat’s.
Irene had recently adopted a Devon Rex cat, a very regal, if small gray male with a Napoleon complex. She named him Ellsworth. He looked like a drawing of a gray alien that people swear they see, with his big eyes and round ears. He sat bored, licking his paw, at his spot on the table.
In the end the whole thing had to be called off because of Spook, who took it upon himself to steal the grand prize: a four-ounce tuna steak. He swept down from the rafters, snagged it out of a tray of ice where it was displayed with fresh parsley all prettily, and disappeared with his loot.
Irene was steaming mad and called for Soapy to do something about the stray cats around town. Stray was a loose description of Spook since he was always housed and fed somewhere. Inside I cheered him on, but outwardly, I stayed stoic to the whole scene.
At the end of the one-day make-up Winter Festival, everyone agreed it was a blast. Next year we’d make it a whole weekend event. As long as nobody was murdered.
Ben, Soapy, and I were the last to leave the festival after cleaning up and making sure we had volunteers to haul the logs away from the banks of the canal.
“Nice job, Cam,” Ben said, as we strolled across the bridge toward home. “I know it wasn’t the original plan, but you came through and gave the town a great day.”
“Me and the Action Agency,” I said. “They do so much to help this town. I think I’d like to do something for them.”
“Well, speaking of that, I’ve got something to help Roy. I told Reins and the other Brookville officers that one of our veterans was having a tough time and we all pitched in. I got a gift card to the Save-A-Lot. It should last him all year.”
“You did? That’s the nicest thing I can imagine. Thank you for doing that for him.” I stopped and put my arms around him. “Do you have it on you? Let’s go give it to him now!”
“I do. It’s in my wallet. Let’s go on over.”
“Where you two headed?” Soapy asked out his car window. “Doesn’t look like the direction of home. Can I give you a lift?”
“Listen to this,” I said and told him what Ben had organized.
“Get in, I want to go along and see his face.”
We got in the car and buzzed down the road to Roy’s trailer home. Johnna’s motorized scooter was sitting beside his car. “What are they cooking up?” Soapy asked. “It has to be something. If any two people in town are coconspirators, it’s those two.”
Another car pulled in right behind us. Jason was behind the wheel and Ginger sat in the front seat. We all greeted him when he got out of the car, with Ginger hopping out behind him.
The door to the trailer opened and Roy stuck his head out. “What’s this then? A congregation? The church is down that way.” He nodded down the road, then saw Jason and Ginger. “You, I was expecting,” he said.
Jason stepped forward and handed Roy a leash and a bag. “I have her food and water bowls in here, and her toys and blanket. One of Dad’s slippers.”
“Good man. Now, don’t you worry about her. I’ll take care of her. Me and this girl took to each other like a duck to water,” Roy said, patting Ginger on the back.
“Are you leaving town?” Ben asked Jason.
“I am. I accepted an offer from John Bridgemaker for Dad’s house. I can’t have pets in my apartment, so Roy’s agreed to take Ginger.”
“Well,” Ben said, scuffing the snow with his boot, “it was good seeing you again. Take care of yourself.”
“You, too. Thanks for figuring out it was Lana. I have no desire to spend the rest of my life behind bars.”
Ben chuckled. “You get older and start to realize you’re not invincible anymore.”
Smiling, Jason nodded. “We never really were.”
Ginger, who’d wandered inside the trailer, began barking to beat the band, and next thing we knew out the door flew Metamora Mike wearing a tea cozy like a sweater.
“How’d he get in there?” Roy said, sheepishly.
“Roy!” I yelled. “Have you been hiding Mike all winter?”
“Well,” he said, shrugging, “with Johnna. Not just me.”
“Now don’t you go blaming this on me, you old bat!” Johnna said, popping up beside him in the doorway.
“Why’d you think I was taking home those terrible cookies the other day?” Roy asked, screwing up his face. “Johnna’s been giving me her old bread and chips. It’s too cold to expect an old duck to live in a horse stall by the canal.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone? The whole town is afraid he’s dead or finally got enough brains to fly south.”
He stood up a little taller, trying to look dignified. “I have a reputation, you know. I can’t let people think I’m soft.”
“A reputation as a drunkard,” Johnna added.
“So you’re not going hungry?” I asked. “We thought you needed money for food and that was why you were asking everyone for scraps.”
“I told you I didn’t need nobody’s pity. Why won’t nobody ever believe me?”
Ben looked at me and shrugged. “I suppose we can donate the grocery card to a veterans organization.”
“I’m just glad Mike’s back.”
We watched as Ginger chased Mike, trying to give him a good sniff. Mike honked and waddled, trying to flap his wings that stuck out the sides of his tea cozy sweater as he made his way down the side of the road toward the canal.
“Go tell the bees Mike’s back in town,” I said.
Ben glanced over at me and smiled.
It was a good life we had in Metamora.
Dogs Dig Banana Bonanza Dog Treats
2 cups oat flour
1½ ripe bananas
1 egg
Preheat oven to 375o F. Mash one of the bananas. Slice the remaining ½ banana into 12 thin slices. Mix oat flour, mashed banana, and egg. Scoop ¼ cup of dough into ball and flatten slightly. Place onto a lined baking sheet. Press one banana slice into each treat. Bake for 20–25 min. Allow to cool completely and store in an air-tight container. Makes one dozen.
Dog Diggity’s Beggin’ Bagels
3 cups wheat flour
½ tsp. baking powder
¼ tsp. baking soda
1 Tbsp. dried parsley
5 slices crumbled bacon
½ cup shredded cheese
1 tsp. vegetable oil
1 cup water
Preheat oven to 350o F. Mix flour, baking powder, and baking soda. Add parsley, bacon, cheese, oil and water. Kneed until dough is formed. Roll dough into 1–2-inch balls. Poke the bagel hole through each ball with the end of a wooden spoon or spatula. Bake on lined baking sheet for 45–50 minutes. Allow to cool completely. Refrigerate in air-tight container. Makes two dozen.
About the Author
Jamie M. Blair (Ohio) is the New York Times bestselling author of young adult and romance books, including Leap of Faith (Simon & Schuster, 2013) and
Lost to Me (2014). You can visit her on Facebook.
Canal Days Calamity
Jamie M. Blair
Cameron Cripps-Hayman is taken aback when she stumbles upon another murdered neighbor, this time behind her sister’s shop, Dog Diggity. The timing couldn’t be worse, as there’s only a week left before the store’s grand opening during Canal Days, the biggest festival of the year.
When the police arrest her handyman, Cameron knows they have the wrong suspect, so she and the rest of the Metamora Action Agency set their sights on cracking the case. They’ve got one solved murder under their belts—how hard could a second be?
With a flood warning and a murderer on the loose threatening Canal Days, Cameron and her crew need to work their tails off to have any chance of saving the town’s annual dog and pony show.
978-0-7387-5122-1, 240 pp., 5 3/4 x 8 $14.99
To order, call 1-877-NEW-WRLD
Prices subject to change without notice
Order at Llewellyn.com 24 hours a day, 7 days a week!
Fatal Festival Days Page 20
