by Amber Crewes
Meghan tried to stifle her tears, but she could not hold back; her cheeks grew damp as she cried, and Mrs. Sheridan reached a hand across the table to wipe away a tear from Meghan’s face.
“I know, it’s quite the story, isn’t it? This festival is just rich with history, and I cannot stand to see it vanish.”
Meghan wiped her eyes. “Why are you telling me all of this?”
“I know I’ve been grumpy toward you before,” Mrs. Sheridan admitted with a guilty look on her face. “I’m sorry. Ever since my husband died and my children moved across the country, it’s been difficult for me to make new friends. I’ve also felt a little bitter toward you...you don’t know this, but this location? These very grounds where your bakery sits? This is where generations of my own family used to own a general store. My grandparents’ parents and their parents owned this very plot of land! We lost it during the great depression, when I was just a baby, and my parents never recovered from the heartbreak.
“Oh my goodness,” Meghan whispered.
Mrs. Sheridan nodded. “I just have always had hate in my heart toward whoever owned this land...it isn’t your fault, though. And now, Meghan, I want to let bygones be bygones. I need you though, Meghan. I need you. You are a business owner in this town; you have some influence. Please, Meghan. I’m begging you. Stand with us protesters as we demand the Mayor hear our voices. Stand on the right side of history. Stand with Sandy Bay.”
9
“WE KNOW BEST! END THE FEST!”
“END THE FEST, WE WON’T REST!”
Meghan carefully navigated the enormous crowd gathered outside of the Sandy Bay Courthouse. The two groups were boisterous, each side equipped with a diverse array of signs, and noisemakers.
“Excuse me,” Meghan murmured as she stepped through the crowd. “Pardon me.”
“Which side you on, kid?” Jamie Winston yelled at Meghan as she nearly dropped her own sign.
Meghan did not answer; she merely put her head down and walked silently to the group positioned right in front of the Mayor’s window.
“You’re here!” Mrs. Sheridan said gleefully as Meghan walked up to her. “So happy you are on our side, Meghan.”
“I hate to choose sides,” she admitted. “I can see the point in ending the festival due to that man’s death. But, your story was so compelling, Mrs. Sheridan. I think the festival is part of this town’s legacy, and I would hate to see that end.”
Meghan felt a tap on her shoulder. Karen stood behind her with a frustrated look on her face.
“Meghan? What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t think it was appropriate timing for any sort of fuss about the festival!”
Meghan sheepishly looked at Mrs. Sheridan and shrugged. “Karen,” Meghan said gently. “Mrs. Sheridan and I had a nice visit the other day, and after thinking long and hard, I think the right thing for me to do is to support her and to support the fall festival.”
Karen’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me? That is a mistake, Meghan. This festival needs to go.”
Mrs. Sheridan pushed her way in front of Meghan and drew herself up to full height, staring into Karen’s blue eyes and shaking her head. “Look, youngun,” Mrs. Sheridan said.
“Youngun?” Karen responded sassily. “Sally Sheridan, I’m not much younger than you.”
Mrs. Sheridan stuck out her tongue at Karen. “Karen Denton, you silly little girl. Why don’t you go back to your little dance class and leave the protesting for us women?”
Karen’s eyes widened, and Meghan had to stifle a laugh at the two older women facing off in the middle of the protest. “It’s called barre class, Sally,” Karen haughtily informed Mrs. Sheridan. “It’s a wonderful way to build muscle and tone the legs! Maybe you should try it sometime instead of whining to Meghan here about your problems.”
Mrs. Sheridan lifted up her skirt to her knees to reveal her thin, boney legs. “My legs are already real pretty, Karen,” she said. “But yours won’t be if you don’t get out of my face!”
Meghan gasped as Mrs. Sheridan lifted her cane up. “I’ll swing at those legs of yours, Karen, if you don’t leave us alone. Go. Get on, now.”
Karen turned on her heel and sprinted away from Meghan and Mrs. Sheridan.
“Mrs. Sheridan!” Meghan exclaimed. “You were going to hit Karen’s legs? She is a devoted athlete! She would have been devastated.”
Mrs. Sheridan turned to Meghan and winked. “I would never do that to old Karen Denton,” she said slyly. “But it didn’t hurt to scare her a little…”
Mrs. Sheridan hugged Meghan, but as they embraced, a man shoved past the two women and nearly sent Meghan to the ground.
“Hey!” Mrs. Sheridan yelled. “Get back to your side. We are supporters of the festival. You almost knocked my friend down. Get out of here!”
The man sneered at Mrs. Sheridan, but he returned to his side. “Those scoundrels,” Mrs. Sheridan muttered. “This protest is getting out of hand. I’m surprised your fellow is not here to keep things under control.”
Meghan laughed. “He’s here,” she giggled. “He’s undercover. He told me that I won’t recognize him in his disguise, so I don’t expect to run into him today.”
As Meghan and Mrs. Sheridan chuckled, both crowds began to yell. “What’s happening?” Mrs. Sheridan asked as Meghan pointed upward.
“Look!” Meghan shouted. “The Mayor is coming out onto his balcony. Everyone! Hold up your signs so he can see you; Mayor Rose needs to hear our voices and know our cause!”
Meghan’s eyes widened as Mayor Rose stepped onto the small balcony two stories above the crowds. He gazed left, and then gazed right.
“What do you think he’s going to say?” Meghan asked Mrs. Sheridan who shrugged.
“Attention, Sandy Bay residents,” the Mayor began. “Protestors, I want to thank you all for being active citizens and getting involved in this...situation.”
Mrs. Sheridan rolled her eyes. “This is not a situation,” she scoffed. “This is a shame that he is threatening to take away our festival!”
The Mayor continued. “I care about this town, and clearly you do as well; from the count of the police officers stationed in the crowd, we have over four-hundred residents of Sandy Bay protesting today.”
Meghan scanned the crowd for any sign of Jack, but she did not see her boyfriend. The Mayor cleared his throat and spoke even louder. “We have scheduled an emergency town hall meeting to discuss these issues. All are welcome. This is not the appropriate venue for me to make decisions or share information. The town hall meeting will be tomorrow evening. I invite you all to come. Thank you for being here.”
As the mayor turned to step back inside the courthouse, Meghan saw Mrs. Sheridan slip her hand into her pocket. Meghan gasped. Mrs. Sheridan was holding a round, rotten tomato.
“This one is for my parents!” Mrs. Sheridan screeched as she hurled the tomato at the mayor. The tomato hit him square in the face, and the crowd broke out in screams.
“The Mayor has been shot! Look at his bloody face!”
“Attack! Attack on the Mayor!”
People ran wild as Mrs. Sheridan pulled out a moldy potato from her purse. “This one is for my late husband!” Mrs. Sheridan lifted her arm to hurl the potato at the mayor, who was awestruck on the balcony, but before she could throw it, she was apprehended by Jack Irvin.
“What are you doing, Mrs. Sheridan?”
Jack snatched the potato and put it in his own pocket. “This is a mess, ladies. All of you should get out of here. Mrs. Sheridan, I am going to pretend like I didn’t see you throw something at our mayor. Just leave, ladies.”
That night, Jack called Meghan to make sure she arrived home after the protests. “It just turned to chaos after Mrs. Sheridan threw the tomato,” he said to her as she laughed.
“I shouldn’t be laughing, but watching Mrs. Sheridan hit her target was too funny,” Meghan said.
Jack was silent.
“What’s
wrong, Jack?” she asked.
Jack sighed. “We received some new information today,” he told Meghan. “New information that we believe relates to the dead man.”
Meghan gasped. “What? What did you find out?”
“Remember when I was speaking with Jamie about the gun that went missing? Well, we found it, Meghan. We found the missing gun. You won’t believe where we found it...or better yet, who we found it on.”
10
“He framed my son for a burglary he never committed twenty-five years ago. If he hadn’t have framed my son, my sweet, precious boy never would have started his own life of crime. That man should be locked up immediately!” Lou wailed as she sat in Jack’s office.
Meghan glanced over at Jack and grimaced. She had rushed over to the police station to hear more about the stolen guns, but when she arrived in Jack’s office, she had been surprised to find Lou there. Lou, who apparently knew the man who had been caught with the stolen gun, was distraught, and Meghan was concerned that Lou might be on the verge of a heart attack with how upset she seemed.
“I just don’t understand,” Lou fretted to Jack. “The man with the stolen gun? Did he kill my son or not? Was my son’s death a murder? I don’t understand, Detective Irvin!”
“There, there, Lou,” Meghan said softly as she knelt down beside Lou. “You need to calm down, Lou. You are going to upset yourself.”
“I am already upset,” Lou wailed as she buried her face in her hands. “I was called to this town to identify my son’s body and to pick up his things, and now, I find out that the very same man who framed him all of those years ago might be responsible for his death? You bet I am upset, Meghan!”
Lou began weeping, and Meghan pulled the old woman in for a hug. “You should give us a few minutes,” Meghan mouthed to Jack as he nodded.
“Don’t you go,” Lou screeched as Jack walked to the door. “I still have questions. When will you know for sure if that scoundrel killed my son? I want answers, Detective Irvin.”
Jack sighed. “It might be a few days,” Jack said slowly. “The gun will have to be sent off to our forensics lab to see if the residue on the gun matches the residue we found on your son’s body.”
Lou nodded. “How long should that take?”
Jack shrugged. “At least three or four days, I think. For now, while we investigate the suspect, we would like you to stay in town, Lou. It sounds like you have some valuable information on his prior connection to your son, and I would like to speak more with you.”
Lou agreed to stay, and Meghan offered to escort her back to her hotel. “Let’s get you home,” she said quietly. “You’ve had a long day, Lou, and I’m sure this news didn’t help. I can’t believe your son was framed for burglary. How terrible for you, and for him.”
“He was a good boy until that happened,” Lou explained. “He was sixteen, and the man who framed him--Donald, I believe his name was--stumbled upon my son at the wrong time. My son was arrested, and Donald never came forward with the truth. He even became a police officer--the irony of it. Anyway, I’m not surprised this happened. Donald was a liar all of those years ago, and I’m sure he killed my son.”
“I’m so sorry,” Meghan whispered as she hugged Lou. “Let’s get you back to the hotel. You must be exhausted.”
Meghan helped Lou rise from her chair. She gently took Lou by the elbow and guided her out of Jack’s office, but before they could exit the police station, a tall, burly man pushed by them.
“Hey!” Meghan exclaimed as the man brushed by. “Excuse you.”
Lou’s eyes widened, and her jaw dropped as she stared up at the man. “You!”
The man stared down at Lou. “Can I help you?”
Lou nodded and began to hit the man. “You framed my son! It’s you! You did it, Donald! And now, you’ve gone and killed him!”
Jack threw himself between Lou and Donald. “Whoa there, folks,” he said in alarm. “Let’s not cause a ruckus. Donald? You should not be roaming the halls.”
Donald glared at Jack. “I haven’t been formally arrested yet,” he hissed. “I’m a cop. I know my rights. I was talking with Chief Nunan and needed to use the bathroom. I’m free to do that.”
Lou stared at Donald, her hands clenching into two tight fists. “I know you killed him,” Lou insisted. “I know it!”
Donald shook his head. “I didn’t kill anyone,” he said with annoyance. I had nothing to do with that guy dying, and if I hear one more word about it, someone is going to be sorry.”
11
It was the evening of the town hall meeting, and Meghan could hardly hear herself think as the crowds of angry people raged in the auditorium of the courthouse. There were people with signs, people with buttons, and people chanting as the police prepared the stage for the Mayor to enter the room.
“Do you think it’s going to get ugly?” Meghan whispered to Mrs. Sheridan as they took their spot amidst the other pro-festival protesters.
“I think it might,” she replied as Meghan peered around the room. She saw Jack standing in the corner, his walkie-talkie pressed to his ear, and she hoped that everyone would be peaceful despite the animosity between the two opposing groups.
“Good evening, everyone,” Mayor Rose greeted the audience as he entered the auditorium through a side door. Half of the audience cheered emphatically, while the other half booed.
“Once again, good evening. I want to thank you all for coming out tonight,” Mayor Rose announced as he acknowledged the audience. “This has been a difficult week for Sandy Bay, and I am thrilled that we can all come together like this to share our thoughts and feelings.”
“I have a lot to share with you, Mayor Rose!” Kirsty Fisher declared as she pumped her fist, the string of pearls around her neck becoming lopsided as she waved her arms.
“That’s enough for now, Kirsty,” Mayor Rose replied. “We are going to do this in an organized way. We will be going around from person to person to share. If you have nothing to share, that is fine, but we will stay here all night until every single person who wants to speak is heard. We will begin on the dissenters’ side. Let’s see….Ryan Carroll? Ryan, I see you over there. We will begin with you.”
Meghan watched as Jack delivered a portable microphone to a rugged looking man wearing a pair of shabby overalls. He had a thick, brown mustache, which he twirled with his fingers as Jack helped him turn on the microphone.
“Mr. Carroll, please begin,” Mayor Rose said as Jack indicated the microphone was on.
“This should be good,” Mrs. Sheridan whispered to Meghan. “Ryan Carroll is a chicken farmer from the outskirts of town. He rarely shows up at Sandy Bay events, so I can’t wait to hear what’s got his overalls in a twist about this.”
Meghan stifled a giggle as Mrs. Sheridan grinned at her. “You are terrible,” she murmured to her.
“Mr. Carroll?” Mayor Rose urged.
Ryan Carroll cleared his throat and began. “I am against continuing this festival,” he announced to the crowd in a gruff voice. “The festival brings in rough crowds every year, and it just seems like something bad always happens at that time of year!”
Mayor Rose nodded. “Can you explain a bit more, Mr. Carroll?”
Ryan continued. “Last year, my wife got real sick during the festival,” he said.
“That has nothing to do with this,” Mrs. Sheridan hissed. “He is just being superstitious, and we are going to lose the festival because of ridiculous claims like this.”
The Mayor took down some notes. “Anything else?”
“Yes. This year, on the day of the fireworks, something was in my chicken coop; I heard a loud noise and went outside with my gun and shot at it. I think it was a fox. By the time I got over there, it was gone, but it was just another bad omen.”
“Thank you for your contribution, Mr. Carroll,” the Mayor said. “Alright, folks. Who is next?”
“I want to speak,” Jamie Winston called out. “I have some thin
gs to say.”
Jamie was given the microphone. He cleared his throat. “I do not agree with Mr. Carroll!” he yelled. “We have to keep this festival. I was able to employ twelve Sandy Bay kids who’ve been without work for many months to help out at my stand. We had a safety expert ensure that activities at my stand were compliant with all state laws. Everyone who came to my stand enjoyed themselves and everyone who comes to the Sandy Bay end of year festival always has something great to say about it. It needs to continue!”
