by Gail Sattler
“I didn’t tell anyone, but the day before The Spring Fling party, someone egged the front door of my store and dumped a soft drink all over my car. Those are usually things someone does if they have something against you.”
Sarah’s brows knotted. “Who has something against you? What have you done?”
“That’s the thing. I have no idea. It was annoying to clean up the mess, but taking Gnorman and the trophy is serious. The garden club entrusted me with that trophy and it’s gone missing, with a great public spectacle, while I was responsible for it. If I can’t get it back, they’ll kick me out of the garden club. Even if they don’t kick me out right away, they won’t renew my membership.”
The question was almost written across Sarah’s forehead, but she didn’t say it. Why is being in the garden club so important?
It was a question Amber wouldn’t answer . . . ever. She couldn’t explain her situation and she didn’t want to involve anyone else in the mess she’d been dragged into. Not Sarah, and especially not Stan. She hadn’t told him about what happened because he would try to help her, and even though he helped her with so much, she wouldn’t accept his help on this.
“Let’s just say I must be a member in good standing, so I need to get that trophy back.”
Sarah’s expression told her that she wanted to ask more, but for now she would wait until Amber was ready to talk. That wasn’t going to happen. Amber had dug herself into a hole, and she had to get out of it by herself.
Sarah’s expression softened. “I’m sure you’ll get it back. Word around town is that Stan’s been right there with you following every lead since it disappeared.”
Amber sighed. “You know Stan. He always likes to help.” She didn’t know how he knew, but every time she needed help with something, no matter how minor, he showed up, volunteering to fix whatever was wrong. A few days ago he’d even helped her restring her guitar, making sure he trimmed every end piece that she usually left sticking out. She still couldn’t play the guitar that well, but it sure looked good. “I don’t know why he does all those things. Maybe he doesn’t have enough to do.”
“He certainly does. When’s the last time you tried making an appointment to get your car fixed?” Sarah’s voice lowered to a whisper, even though they were the only people in the store. “He doesn’t do favors for everyone. Just you.” As she finished her sentence, Sarah gave Amber a big, exaggerated wink.
“Stop that. Stan and I are just good friends—like I’m good friends with his mother. Kathy’s been helping me learn how to make my own jam this year.”
“Really? Stan’s favorite jam, or yours?”
“I said stop it. I need your help to figure out what to do next. How can I find out who bought, and I use the word loosely, that doll with the Pilgrim costume? Or better yet, how can I find out who put Gnorman beside the fountain? That’s a pretty public spot.”
Sarah shook her head. “Not really. Most of the people who live at Lake Bliss go to bed early. That’s the thing with retirement communities. They’re past the late-night party stage. It’s an adults-only complex; no one under age fifty-five is allowed to live there. During the daytime there are enough people milling about so that most ignore what everyone else is doing. My guess would be that whoever put him there did it in the middle of the night. Didn’t you say that Naomi phoned you in the morning?”
“I had a feeling it would come down to this. Since the note said we weren’t to touch him for four days, on the third night—that would be Wednesday—I need to do some surveillance and see who takes him away.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Sarah grinned from ear to ear. “I think you know what this means.”
Amber squeezed her eyes shut. “I know. I’ll call Stan.”
Stan couldn’t believe it. He was humming. Humming. While planning a picnic lunch. Or rather, a picnic midnight snack.
He changed his tune to “The Teddy Bear’s Picnic.”
He’d asked Amber out for dinner a few times, and every time she’d turned him down. Not maliciously or to reject him. She simply didn’t take him seriously.
This time they would share a more intimate meal than if they went to the Fancy Schmantzy on Main Street.
Thinking of the Fancy Schmantzy, his hands stilled in the middle of his grocery list. He couldn’t remember the real name of the one high-class restaurant in town. Ever since he was a kid, the place had been called the Fancy Schmantzy. A storm had blown a tree into the sign, and since everyone knew the place by its nickname, Fred and Rita, the couple who owned the restaurant, never replaced the original sign. Now, a generation later, no one could even remember what the real name was.
The name didn’t matter—only that it was a classy place to take a date. Not that he’d ever taken Amber there. But one day he would. They would share fresh baked bread before their meal, and afterward they’d order some fancy coffee and dessert, all while sitting at a dimly lit private table, with soft music playing in the background to enhance the mood.
Amber often complained about the ordinary brown color of her hair, but he liked it—not too dark, not too light, with a slight curl. She’d have it clipped up with some kind of barrette with sparkly stones on it, which would set off the sparkle in her jade-green eyes. Although she didn’t know it, Stan considered her very pretty, and when she smiled she had the cutest dimples.
He forced himself back to the project at hand. Tomorrow night they couldn’t light a smoky candle between them because they had to stay hidden, which meant their only source of light would be a small flashlight, with minimal usage. The music, instead of soft classical violins, would be chirping crickets and the splashing of the fountain in the distance, and maybe the croaking of the resident bullfrog. It would be almost like surveillance from NCIS, staking out a crime scene.
Stan stopped writing his grocery list and looked out the window in the direction of the Lake Bliss Retirement Village. It wasn’t really a crime scene because no one had actually gone to the police station to report this to Bubba, maybe because he was at the party and already knew, at least unofficially. If anyone did report the disappearance, he wasn’t sure how it would be classified. A missing gnome was more of a prank than a crime, although technically the gnome had been stolen. Was gnome gnapping a felony or a misdemeanor?
Stan shook his head. This wasn’t Chicago or Los Angeles or Miami or any of the big cities where felony crimes happened. This was Bloomfield, USA, where the city council proudly boasted having a flower of some kind on every corner. That wasn’t really true, but they liked to think so.
He didn’t want his evening with Amber to be laced with foreboding. He wanted to make it calm and relaxing, like a date.
If he were going to take Amber out on a date to the Fancy Schmantzy, he’d wear his best suit, maybe even a tie, and he’d polish his shoes. He didn’t know what she’d wear, but he imagined a nice dress and matching strappy shoes that showed off her cute little toes.
But not tomorrow. Technically it was spring, but it still got cold out at night. Instead of their best clothes, they would be wearing heavy jeans layered with a T-shirt under a sweatshirt, bundled up in padded jackets. Plus he’d pack a quilt in the toolbox in the back of his truck, just in case.
He couldn’t hold back a grin. In a way, he hoped they would get cold, just so he could snuggle with Amber under the blanket.
Stan shook the thoughts from his head and continued with his grocery list. He planned on making nice meaty sandwiches on those fancy rolls she liked, with thick mayo, cheddar cheese—sliced himself, not the processed stuff—and crispy lettuce. Instead of the rich dessert they served at the Fancy Schmantzy, he bought easy-to-eat chocolates, and he knew exactly the kind Amber liked best.
He also planned to bring a big thermos of coffee, only because Naomi had agreed to give them a key to her townhouse in case they had to use the
facilities in the middle of the night.
It was going to be perfect. Nothing could go wrong. He had everything planned down to the last detail, including a spare battery for his camera that was currently in the charger.
He’d been planning for two days, and he was going to do everything he could to make the night just right, for however long it took, even if that meant all night.
He actually hoped it would be all night.
Just as he folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket, Stan’s cell phone rang. His heart picked up in speed. It was nearly midnight, much too late for anyone to call unless something was wrong.
His dread changed to amusement when he read the caller ID. It was Amber, probably just making sure he still planned on keeping watch over Gnorman until someone arrived to spirit him away. It would feel good to tell her that he was not only nearly ready, but that he also had a surprise for her.
“Hey,” he drawled as he answered the phone, mentally kicking himself at the sappy tone of his own voice.
“It looks like we won’t have to do the surveillance tomorrow night. Naomi just called. She looked out the window on her way to bed, and Gnorman is gone. The note said four days, but I’m thinking whoever did this took him away early, probably guessing what we had planned. So it looks like we’re back to square one.”
Stan pressed his hand over the list in his pocket. He still felt like asking if she wanted to have a midnight picnic anyway, but he couldn’t think of a reason to justify it except that he was an idiot. “Now what?”
She sighed, such a sad and lonely sound, and it made him want to run over to her house and make it better. “Now we wait. Again. The first note said we’d get another one, so there’s nothing else we can do.”
“There has to be something. How about if I come by your store tomorrow for lunch, and we can talk about it.”
“I guess. Sure.” She sighed again and went silent.
Not the most enthusiastic response, but she hadn’t turned him down. So it wasn’t a total loss. He even felt himself smiling. “I’ll be there, and I’ll bring lunch. See you tomorrow.”
Chapter Five
Amber flinched as the bell above the door jingled, signaling someone’s arrival.
She knew who it was. She hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind. It wasn’t something she could put her finger on, but he’d sounded strange when she phoned last night to cancel their spy mission. Almost like he’d sounded disappointed, which she couldn’t understand. So far, he’d been everything he’d always been—a good friend who always came when he thought she needed him. For some unknown reason, something had changed since the day before. His response had made it sound like finding Gnorman had become personal to him.
“Hi, Stan,” she muttered, knowing he’d again left his employees to run his repair shop while he came with offers of help. Despite knowing he planned to drop by, she still wasn’t ready for him, and she didn’t have a single idea worth discussing. “I’m sorry but . . .” her voice trailed off as she turned toward the door.
Instead of Stan, it was Pamela who had entered her store.
Pamela, who had an envelope with Amber’s name on it in her hand.
Pamela held out the envelope. “This was on the ground in front of your door. I thought it might be a ransom note, so I brought it in.”
The second Amber had it in her hand, she ripped open the top. Just as she grasped the letter inside, the door opened again. This time it really was Stan.
“It’s another note,” she said as she pulled the letter out of the envelope.
Instead of dropping it, this time she tucked the now-empty envelope under her arm and unfolded the letter. Pamela shuffled beside her while Stan stood behind them, reading over their shoulders.
Just like the last one, this note was constructed of words and letters cut out of the Bloomfield Gazette, but it wasn’t as sloppy.
gnorman was feeling very bereft.
He didn’t like the fountain, so he left.
He wanted something adventurous, more than a prank.
Anyone who opposes him will walk the plank!
Amber gritted her teeth at the bad poetry. “Gnorman didn’t like the fountain? I don’t understand what’s going on. They didn’t mention the trophy. I hope whoever has done this hasn’t lost it.” Her heart stopped for a second. “Or broken it.”
Behind her Stan grunted and mumbled the words of the note, half reading them out loud. “Except for being cut out of the newspaper again, this note is quite different from the last. This one isn’t the perpetrator giving us instructions. It seems to have gone into some kind of storytelling mode, like they’ve personified Gnorman. Strange.”
Amber noticed that the word strange came up a lot recently, but it fit.
She read the note again. Unlike Stan, she read silently, then turned around to face him as she spoke. “You’re right. I wonder what this means, trying something more adventurous. Walk the plank? That sounds like something out of Pirates of the Caribbean.”
Stan’s eyes lit up. “Yeah. But Jack Sparrow never walked the plank. He dove off of it. Then do you remember when he—”
Amber waved the note in the air. “Never mind Captain Jack. You’re getting distracted.” She lowered it and pointed to the part about walking the plank. “What does this mean? Why is someone doing this?” Although, the more she thought about it, there was only one reason that made sense.
Her membership to the garden club always stood on shaky ground. Initially Aunt Edna had convinced the board to approve her membership even though, at the time, the only live plants in her yard were a patch of Forget-Me-Nots that had spread from her neighbor’s yard. For the first three years the voting committee approved memberships, approving hers only after her aunt reminded them what a delight it was for the winner of the spring contest to have Gnorman in their garden holding the trophy for the whole season. Her garden now supported many flowering plants, thanks to Stan, but it remained very basic, and not all that colorful. Only by the grace of God, and Gnorman, was her membership renewed every year. Without Gnorman, Amber had serious doubts that her garden would be approved. Even if they found the gnome with the trophy, enough damage had been done because of the disruption to the garden club’s biggest celebration of the year that she couldn’t be sure of her renewal. If the trophy was returned broken, or not returned at all, not only would her membership not be renewed, she’d be kicked out in disgrace.
She had no idea who, or why, but it appeared someone wanted her out of the garden club.
The best laid plans . . .
Had fallen short.
Amber turned to Pamela standing silently beside her. If anyone could help in a convoluted situation such as this, Pamela could. Pamela always had her fingers in many pies, and even though some people found her annoying, and even a busybody, everyone knew that Pamela’s efforts often resolved most issues, especially issues that weren’t her own.
“You’re always a great . . . problem solver. What do you think?”
Pamela’s brows knotted as she reread the note. “This says that Gnorman wants adventure, and it mentions walking the plank. My first thought is to look for a pirate ship.”
“Here? In Bloomfield?” Stan rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “We’re slightly landlocked.”
“I know that. But I read in the Gazette yesterday that the Bloomfield Cinema started running a pirate movie, I can’t remember the name. On Sunday a few people came in dressed as pirates, which apparently raised some eyebrows. If we have pirate fanatics among us, maybe they know about a pirate ship where Gnorman would make someone walk the plank.”
For lack of anything better, even though it wasn’t really much of a clue, at least it was the start of one. Besides, a bad idea was better than no idea.
“Ronnie works at the the
ater every night,” Amber said. “She’s a garden club member, and she was at the party.” Most important, Ronnie wasn’t on the garden club’s operating committee. Amber felt safer talking to Ronnie than Ronnie’s mother, Minnie, who was on the board. She also knew Ronnie better than she knew Minnie. “I’m sure she’ll want to help find Gnorman. If she remembers who the pirates were, I’m sure she’d tell us. I think talking to them would be a good idea.”
Pamela beamed. “I think that’s a great idea.”
Amber bit her lip to hold back a grin. Of course she did. It was her idea.
Stan checked his watch. “It’ll only take us ten minutes to get to Ronnie’s place. We’re good.”
“How do you know where Ronnie lives?”
“I don’t specifically, but I know her car, and I know which driveway it’s in. I passed it on the way here.”
Pamela also looked at her watch. “I can stay here and watch the store while you two go.”
“Two?”
At her question, Stan grinned. “I have to be back in twenty minutes so Hank can go for lunch. I think that gives us enough time. Let’s—”
Amber held up one hand. “I know,” she grumbled. “Again. Let’s go.”
Just as Stan predicted, they made it to Ronnie’s house in plenty of time—eight minutes, to be precise. Knowing that Ronnie worked late to clean up the theater after it closed, Amber felt hesitant about knocking until she heard Ronnie singing one of the songs they’d sung at church last Sunday—a little off key, but probably better than Amber could have done.
When Ronnie answered the door her cheeks were a bit pink, but she welcomed them in anyway.
Amber got straight to the point. “I heard that you’re running a pirate movie at the theater, and you had a few pirates in your midst on the weekend.”
Ronnie nodded. “Yes, we did. It was a little unnerving. I actually thought they were going to rob me, you know, with their masks and swords and all. But then two of them had a sword fight and one of the swords broke. So I knew they were only plastic.”
