Polly Deacon Mysteries 4-Book Bundle

by H. Mel Malton

  “Man,” he said. “Could you maybe put a built-in fan in here?”

  “If you get too hot, there is an escape route,” I said, and showed him the tear-away strips attaching the belly to the main body of the costume. “I always put an emergency escape hatch into these things, although the idea is only to use it if you think you’re about to keel over. If it gets used too much, the Velcro loses its strength.”

  Finally, we were ready for the head. It was about the size of a large pumpkin, built around a light wire frame. The neckpiece, like a short collar or cape, fell down over the shoulders to hide the join and was fixed in place with snaps and, once again, good old Velcro. Eddie was an extremely tall young man, about six-three, and with the Kountry Kow head in place, he was monstrous. I stepped back to view the effect. Kountry Kow was truly magnificent, if I do say so myself.

  Rosencrantz and Lug-nut, who had been ignoring most of what was going on, because they knew Eddie as well as they knew me, suddenly looked up. The effect on them was startling. They backed up, tails down, and immediately started growling.

  “Hey, you guys! Take it easy. It’s okay!” I said. “It’s Eddie. It’s okay!” Luggy started barking and Rosie joined in.

  “Luggy! Rosie, it’s me!” Eddie said, his voice muffled. He crouched down to reassure them, but both dogs obviously thought that meant the monster was getting ready to charge. Rosie yelped and ran under the table and Luggy, my hero, scuttled around behind me, still barking.

  As soon as I unsnapped the headpiece and removed it, the dogs settled down.

  “Jeez. It’s only me,” Eddie said.

  “I’m glad neither of them is trained to attack,” I said thoughtfully. I shouldn’t have said it. Eddie was looking a little pale. “Here,” I said, pulling up a stool. “Sit down for a sec.”

  “So what do I do if that happens on Saturday?” Eddie said.

  “What do you do?”

  “I guess I didn’t tell you, eh?” he said, but he wasn’t fooling me. He hadn’t been planning to tell me at all, I could tell.

  “You’re going to be wearing this thing and racing in the Bath Tub Bash?” I said. “For Kountry Pantree? Does Susan know?”

  Eddie rolled his eyes. “What do you think?” he said, ladling on the sarcasm as only a teenager can.

  “Holy cow,” I said. “And what about your job at Watson’s? Archie will go absolutely berzerk when he finds out.”

  “Well, I was going to give him my notice anyway, this weekend,” Eddie said.

  “You were going to quit before you were fired, you mean. What’s the matter? I thought you liked working at Watson’s.”

  “I do, Polly. It’s just that Mr. Kane, well, he’s going to give me a job in his new store.”

  “Mr. Kane is? I see. You’ve been headhunted.”

  “Headhunted? Like cannibals in the jungle? Huh?”

  “Sort of like that. Here. Let’s get you out of this thing and then we’ll talk,” I said. I put the Kountry Kow head down carefully on the worktable and made Eddie turn around so I could undo him. “By the way, if you’re going to be risking your life in one of those stupid Bath Tubs wearing this thing, you’d better be sure you can see okay. How was it in there?”

  “It was fine, Polly. Stuffy, but I could see fine. You made the eyeholes really big.” I had. After I’d tried the head on myself, I’d cut the eyeholes bigger and screened them with see-through mesh. From the outside, the eyes were just big black holes and you couldn’t see the person inside.

  Eddie took off the gloves and gaiters and stepped out of the body suit.

  “Whew,” he said. “I need a shower now.”

  “You’ll have to wait for that one, I’m afraid, unless you want me to haul out the zinc bath tub.”

  “Maybe I should get dressed up again and sit in the zinc tub for a while to get the feel of it,” Eddie said with a grin.

  “That might be an idea. Now, you want a coke or something? A beer, maybe?”

  “A beer would be great,” he said. I grabbed a cold one from the icebox and cracked it for him, then made myself a brown cow.

  “Given up beer?” Eddie said. “I noticed you were drinking water at dinner.”

  “Just for the time being,” I said. “I think I’ve developed an allergy to it.”

  “Poor you,” he said and took a sip of his own.

  Now, please don’t shoot me for giving a kid a beer. I know Eddie was underage, and what I was doing was strictly illegal and Becker, if he had been there, would have said something disapproving. So be it. I knew Eddie had an occasional beer with George and Susan, and our collective theory is; better they learn to drink like a grown-up, in the company of grown-ups, than to sneak out on some back road with a twelve-pack and end up puking on their shoes or driving into a tree. So there.

  “Now, Eddie. Tell me how you met David Kane,” I said.

  “Oh, he came to our culinary arts class at school,” Eddie said. The local high school had a great hospitality program attached to its cafeteria, so that kids could learn cooking, restaurant business stuff and serving skills. The kids ran a pretty impressive restaurant, open to teachers and staff only, planned the menus themselves, cooked and served the food. Eddie, who had been in the program since Grade Nine, was a pretty good chef and a first-class baker. That’s how he had got his job in the bakery at Watson’s.

  “He came to your class?”

  “Yeah. My teacher invited him, I guess,” Eddie said. “He gave a presentation about the Kountry Pantree store and all the great jobs they had available, and he gave out applications. I filled one in and had an interview a couple of weeks ago. Mr. Kane is offering me twice what Mr. Watson pays, and I’d have a lot more responsibility.”

  “Including playing Kountry Kow, apparently.”

  “Well, that was an extra. He said I’d still have the bakery job, even if I didn’t want to do it, but there’s a bonus if I do.”

  “A big bonus?”

  “Enough for a down payment on my first car,” he said with some pride. “But now that I’ve tried on the costume, I’m thinking it should be bigger,” he added.

  “Hah! Go for it, Eddie. Has anyone else at Watson’s been lured away with promises of big bucks?”

  “A couple, maybe. Maybe even Arly Watson, though I don’t know for sure. I thought I saw her getting into Mr. Kane’s car the other day.”

  “Really? That’s interesting.”

  “Robin said Arly wasn’t driving around with Mr. Kane for employment reasons, though, if you know what I mean. But then Robin’s got a dirty mind.”

  “Does she have any idea what that will do to her father?” I said, feeling suddenly enormously sorry for Archie Watson.

  “Robin says that’s probably why she’s doing it.”

  “Oh, my.”

  “Are we done here, Polly? Robin’s coming over later, and we’re going to do some astronomy in the hayfield.”

  “Astronomy? I’ve never heard it called that before,” I said.

  “Polly! And don’t you dare say what I know you’re about to say. I got it covered.”

  “Well, keep it covered,” I said and followed Eddie out the door. As I stood on the porch, looking up at the stars, which were very bright (a fine excuse for Eddie and Robin), I heard Eddie’s voice come back at me out of the dark.

  “Polly?”

  “Mmmm?”

  “Don’t tell Susan about the Kountry Kow thing, okay? I’ll tell her after it’s over, maybe. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

  “Archie will tell her if you quit,” I said.

  “I know. I’ll tell her that part. But not the cow, okay?”

  “Okay, Eddie. Goodnight.” I sighed and went back inside. I really hate keeping secrets.

  It wasn’t until a couple of hours later that I realized I hadn’t returned Becker’s phone calls. I wondered why I had blocked on it, and whether it would be okay to wait until the next day. I could say that an emergency had come up—after all, h
e knew that I didn’t have a phone at the cabin, so it wasn’t easy for me to just punch in a number, the way normal people do. I could say I had suddenly been taken ill and was running a fever. I could say that George’s phone was out of order. I went through a few of these scenarios before admitting to myself that I was looking for a good lie. The truth was that I forgot, which was not very flattering to either of us.

  After realizing that I was making excuses for forgetting, I noticed another emotion building up inside myself. I was getting angry. (This navel gazing is unpleasant. I wouldn’t recommend it. Far nicer to be deceitful and oblivious.) Becker had not returned my phone calls earlier in the day, had he? In the messages he left with George, he hadn’t said “Tell her I’m sorry for not getting back to her sooner,” or anything like that. So what if I didn’t call him back? Wasn’t he doing the same thing to me? Where was the message saying he was going to Toronto? Wasn’t he there right now with another woman?

  In a matter of minutes, I had turned a mild feeling of guilt over a forgotten phone call into an indignant, self-righteous rage. Clever stuff.

  I got myself into such a state that even a joint didn’t calm me down. In fact, I took one puff, felt my stomach heave and put the wretched thing out. Then I made myself some warm milk and went to bed, sticking my tongue out at Kountry Kow on my way.

  Twenty-Seven

  Cheer on the newest addition to the Laingford Bath Tub Bash lineup—it’s the Kountry Pantree Scrub-a-Tub-a-Doo! We’re proud to be part of this fine cottage country tradition, and in addition to running a tub in the race (driven by our own Kountry Kow!), we’re giving away free hot dogs at the grill down by the first aid tent. Come on by and get your free lunch, and don’t forget to cheer for Kountry Kow!

  —One of the largest advertisements in the “Bath Tub Bash” programme, printed and distributed by the Laingford Gazette

  Vic Watson and I are enjoying a quiet picnic at the top of Oxblood Falls. There is French bread, brie, caviar and champagne, and I am utterly happy. Vic is telling me about a house he is building on the shores of Lake Kimowan and says I must come and visit him and fish for pike.

  Suddenly, out from behind a low bush, Arly Watson and David Kane appear, heading straight for us, their faces full of menace. They are both dressed from head to foot in red, andArly’s fingernails are long and deadly. Kane whips out a camera and shouts “Smile!” at us as Arly lifts her foot, grown suddenly very big in its huge, red sneaker, and kicks us both over the falls. I scream as I go down, knowing there is a herd of killer cows waiting for me at the bottom.

  I just love bad dreams. Who needs an alarm clock when a nice, well-timed nightmare can wake you up at the crack of dawn, covered in sweat, hyperventilating and ready to start the day? The early start wasn’t such a bad thing, so I didn’t bother trying to go back to sleep. Anyway, I wasn’t in any hurry to meet the killer cows at the bottom of the falls.

  Over coffee and a slice of toast, I made a quick list of the day’s errands. I had a whacking great headache and dry toast was about all I could handle.

  Get big Audrey puppet from barn and load puppets etc. in truck for show.

  Call Becker.

  Tell Becker about the Watson thing and show him Sophie’s photo. (The picture was still in my jacket pocket and had been there since Monday. I know when a dream is trying to tell me something.)

  Drop off puppets at show space.

  Meet Serena Elliot at 1 p.m.

  Call David Kane re: Kountry Kow costume. (Now that I knew Eddie was going to wear it, I figured I could bring both of them into town together on Saturday morning.)

  Set up art show with others. (2 p.m.)

  Get blow up of newspaper picture from Calvin for show. (A colour copy would do it.)

  Eat something.

  Go to bed early.

  I got tired just looking at it. Still, having it written down helped me get motivated. I slugged back a second cup of coffee and loaded up a cardboard box with some smaller puppets for the show. Then, just as I was stepping off the porch, there was a great rumble of thunder, a flash of lightning, and the heavens, as they say, opened.

  “Shit!” I said. Now, I don’t often swear, at least not unless I am heartily provoked, but in this case, I was. Kountry Kow may have been designed to be waterproof, but the majority of my puppets weren’t. Before any loading could be done, I’d have to get someone to help me put the cap on George’s truck, and everything that I was planning to carry down from the cabin and up from the barn would have to be covered in plastic first. I went back inside and cranked up my clockwork radio to see if I could get a weather report. At least, I realized, that explained the headache. I had been worried that I might be coming down with something, but thundery weather often makes me feel sick.

  The CBC, our beloved public radio service, is very obliging when it comes to weather reports. Although they broadcast out of Toronto, they do their best to cover their whole listening area. Unfortunately, they put Kuskawa at the very end of the list. I don’t know why this is, but they do. I sat and listened to rain and thunderstorms forecast in every city and town from Hamilton to North Bay until finally they got to Kuskawa. Not surprisingly, the nice CBC lady told me that steady thunderstorms and showers would be the order of the day, and very possibly might continue into the next. Great. The Bath Tub Bash would be just charming in the rain. I felt a twinge of sadness for the organizers of the event. All that planning. All that advertising, all that hype, for one single day of the year. The Bath Tub Bash traditionally took place rain or shine. It was part of their mandate. But I had seen it wet, and it was depressing as hell.

  I put my box back inside, threw on a yellow rain slicker and headed down to the farmhouse to see if I could find Eddie. If he wanted me to keep his Kountry Kow secret from Susan, he was going to have to pay for it in hard labour. Blackmail? Well, yes. So what’s your point?

  After the loading had been done (Eddie was extremely obliging and I didn’t have to threaten him more than once), I used George’s phone to call Becker at home. It was only seven in the morning, but I figured I could catch him before he went to pick up Bryan at Morrison’s. He answered after about six rings. “Yeah?”

  “Why do all policemen answer their phones with ‘yeah’?” I said.

  “We learn it in cop school,” Becker said. “Where were you yesterday?”

  “I was going to ask you the same question,” I said. “I guess we were just doing the phone tag thing.”

  “What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?” he said.

  “I had some new stuff about Vic Watson that I thought you might want to hear,” I said.

  “Yeah, well. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you. I had to go to the city.”

  “I heard. Did you get what you wanted?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Oh. Oh, nothing. Just still asleep, I guess.” There was a pause and a rustle, as if he was getting up and moving into another room. “Look, if you’re not busy this afternoon, why don’t we meet for a coffee and we can talk, okay?”

  “That sounds good. I have a full plate, but you probably do, too. Is four o’clock too late?”

  “Four is fine, but I can’t go too far from the station. Tim Hortons?”

  “Tim Hortons it is. See you there.”

  “Okay. See you.” Just before he hung up, I would absolutely swear I heard a high-pitched voice asking a question in the background.

  “What’s the matter, Polly?” Susan said. She and George had just come in from the barn and caught me gazing off into the middle distance. I hadn’t even heard them come in.

  “Of course,” I said out loud. “He got back early enough last night to go pick up Bryan at Morrison’s, that’s all. That was Bryan.”

  “Was that Mark Becker?” Susan asked. “He called very late last night, Polly, wondering if you were here.”

  “Was he calling from home?” I said.

  �
�It sounded like he was calling from a bar,” she said. “I think he might have been a little tight, actually. He said ‘they’ were wondering if you’d like to come out for a drink. Whoever ‘they’ are.”

  “He didn’t say, I take it.”

  “No. I told him you were probably in bed. I hope you don’t mind, love. It was after midnight.”

  “No, Susan. I don’t mind a bit. I apologize on his behalf. That was a bad move.” A bad move in more ways than one, I thought. My mind was already going down a very predictable road, and I had to shut it down, immediately. Work was the key. At least until four o’clock. Work.

  Eddie came with me to the show space to help me unload. He was booked to work at Watson’s that afternoon, so it fitted in very nicely with his schedule. We didn’t talk much during the drive into town. I think he was off in the land of astronomy, judging from the dreamy smile on his face, and if he was thinking about the stars, it might be said that I was thinking about the big, deep void beyond them.

  The rain had let up by the time we pulled up outside the storefront. There were more showers lurking in the sky, but perhaps someone up there took pity on us, or at least on my poor puppets. We got the smaller boxes in quickly but had an awful time with Audrey. Audrey the man-eating pitcher plant is seven feet tall and about three feet wide. Each of her nine tentacles are six feet long. Although her foam rubber construction allows her to be squeezed a fair bit, the box she lives in would not fit through the door.

  “We’ll have to take her out of the box,” I said.

  “What if it starts raining again?” Eddie said.

  “Then we’re screwed. Actually, if it does, be ready to grab the tarp from the truck and cover her. If she gets wet, her paint will run and she’ll get mouldy.”

  “I don’t know if the two of us can keep the whole thing up off the ground, once we’ve unpacked her,” Eddie said.

  “Good point.” I scanned the street. Up near the Town Hall, a group of about nine boys and girls were skateboarding off the front steps. This is a no-no, according to the Town bylaw department, and there was supposed to be a fifty dollar fine attached to the crime, as well as confiscation of the skateboard. The problem with the bylaw, though, is that you had to catch them first. I had a sudden mental image of Brent Miller, in a brand new bylaw officer’s uniform, leaping along the street in pursuit of some delinquent ten-year-old.