by Ellen Riggs
“He goes where he’s needed,” I said. “I’m sure he’d do a stint in Janelle’s lap if she didn’t have her hands so full trying to handle this car.”
“What do you mean?” Janelle said. “It drives like a dream.”
I’d never had a rougher ride and that was saying something in view of my own driving exploits. At least my truck had springs and power steering. It didn’t help that the side road she’d turned onto was pocked with potholes that pounded my tailbone, which still hadn’t fully recovered from being butted by a large, irritable goat.
“I admire your fortitude,” I said. “And, as an outsider, I just want to say I also admire how both you and Jilly came down here to protect Bridie when she was in need. If you have nothing else in common, there’s that.”
They both started to protest and I spoke over them. “Of course you do have a lot in common. Your voices, your features, your curly hair, your capacity to handle people, and—Jilly, forgive me—your sense of humor.”
“Let’s talk about integrity,” Jilly said.
“I don’t know about the past,” I said. “I can only comment on what I see now. And both of you care about Bridie, which is a starting point. If you’re interested in a starting point.”
“I’m not, actually, because—” Jilly’s next word was cut off as Janelle hit a big pothole, accidentally on purpose. “Would you mind?”
“Mind knocking some sense into you?” Janelle said, hitting another pothole. “No, I would not.”
“Janelle, there’s collateral damage here,” I said. “Your gran, my pets and my butt. Tell your automotive bestie to stand down on those craters.”
“Sorry.” Glancing into the back seat, she said, “And I’m sorry to you, Jilly. I am interested in starting over and I’m not afraid to say so. Years of rolling from place to place, job to job, boyfriend to boyfriend, finally showed me how to take personal accountability. I made mistakes and I’m willing to make amends.”
I held my breath, hoping Jilly would accept the olive branch. The silence went on so long that Janelle lifted her foot off the gas to give her time but in a few yards, we reached the driveway to the Strathmore Hotel. Talk of reconciliation would have to wait.
“That’s the one,” I said, staring up as she pulled the old beater into a parking spot. “The building I saw in the crystal ball.”
“The crystal ball?” Jilly said. “What are you talking about? I thought you googled the place.”
“I did, after seeing it in Lottie’s crystal ball.” I shrugged. “Who knows where the image came from? I knew about the hotel and researched the area before we left the farm. The point is, it seemed like there may be a clue here.”
“So you’ve put me through all this for a vision from a crystal ball?” Jilly deliberately kneed the back of my seat.
“Basically, yeah,” I said. “I’ve put you through worse in pursuit of the truth.”
The next thump from the back was almost as hard. She wasn’t so sure.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “There’s no risk of incontinence today, unlike last night in gator country.”
“Well,” she said, “there is that.”
Outside the main entrance of the Strathmore Hotel was a manmade pond about half the size Amos at the waterfowl sanctuary had recommended for swans. There was a fountain in the middle with a statue of a half-naked woman carrying a bowl of fruit. Water spewed erratically from a big cluster of grapes.
As I climbed out of the passenger seat, a beautiful mute swan floated around the pedestal at the statue’s bare feet. I jogged over with Keats and Percy. The swan came toward me at about the same speed and its wings snapped up like a fan. It stopped a few yards from the shore, hissing. Behind the big white bird swam six small fluffy grey ones. The so-called ugly ducklings were adorable.
“Oh, my goodness,” Jilly said, joining me. “Cygnets!” She scanned the pond. “Where’s the other one? I thought you said they mated for life.”
“They do.” Keats gave me a look with his eerie blue eye and mumbled something I’d already guessed. “I suspect her mate is in the pond at the Briars. This is probably Hera, wife of Zeus, and six little gods in the making.”
“He left his family?” she said, as Janelle and Bridie lined up beside her.
“Probably not by choice,” I said. “I got a better look at his wings last night and one appears to be clipped. So he didn’t fly into the Briars and he most certainly didn’t walk that far.”
“Let’s see what we can find out,” Janelle said, turning. “I’ll have a chat with the manager.”
We followed her up the wide sandstone stairs. She flicked back her curls and straightened her shoulders as we walked inside. I didn’t need to see her wide smile to know it was there because the man behind the front desk nearly melted. It was a hot day, but not as hot as Janelle, apparently.
“Why, hello there,” she said. “I used to be you.” She must have glanced at his name tag because she added, “Jeremy.”
“Pardon me?” he asked.
“I worked behind this desk once upon a time. After a stint at the courtyard bar.” She gestured to the rest of us. “I wanted my grandmother and friends to see the place I spent so many happy days. It looks nearly the same.”
“Welcome back,” he said. “There have been some improvements in the past couple of years. I’m due for a break if you’d like me to show you around.”
“How lovely,” she said. “We’ll wait for you outside.”
A few minutes later, Jeremy came down the stairs two at a time to join us. “You can see the first change from here,” he said. “Our swan pond is a popular attraction. Maybe too popular since the babies arrived. People are always feeding them and children climb right into the water. We’ve already lost two chicks, I’m afraid.”
“There’s no protective fencing,” I said, watching cars stream into the lot. It was probably the lunch rush. There wouldn’t have been many decent restaurants out here. “A predator could nab the cygnets easily enough.”
He glanced at Janelle, dejected. “You know management would never hear of fencing out front. It’s not the image they want to project. Even though we lost our male not long back.”
“Did he fly off?” Janelle asked. “Abandon his family?”
Jeremy shook his head. “His wings were clipped. He either left on foot or was taken.”
“Who would steal a swan?” she asked.
“A prank, most likely.” He scuffed the gravel path with a black loafer that was quickly covered in gray dust. “Our clientele hasn’t changed. Corporate groups who enjoy the open bar. Mostly men. The night manager has quite a time of it.”
“So you figure someone lifted the swan and took it home with them?” she asked.
“Maybe. And obviously he couldn’t fly back.”
“Did you report it?” I asked. “The police might know where the swan ended up.”
Again he shook his head. “Management wanted to let the matter go. We don’t like to attract negative attention here. It could put off guests.”
Anger percolated in my gut but I pressed my lips together. Their indifference could work in our favor. This pond wasn’t big enough for a family and Zeus wouldn’t be safe if we returned him anyway. At the same time, uniting them at the Briars pond was out of the question, where the alligators would make short work of the fluffy little ones. We’d need to stage a rescue and deliver them to the waterfowl sanctuary.
Jilly stepped forward. “This is—”
“Fascinating,” I interrupted. “Thank you for sharing, Jeremy. I hope the swans find their way back together someday. It’s a tragic love story.”
“Tragic,” Janelle repeated. “Ivy, why don’t you get some shots of the sweet babies while Gran and I take the grand tour?”
“Sounds good,” I said, kneeling beside the pond as they went back up the gravel path.
Jilly rested her hand on my shoulder. “When is this rescue going to happen?”
“Ton
ight, hopefully. Before another cygnet is lost. The only question is how. In moments like this, I sure miss Cori and the Mafia.”
“Me too,” she said. “But I’m not too fussed about getting my feet wet in a pond like this.”
“We’ll need to extract Zeus too,” I said.
“I’ll drive getaway,” she said. “Send your new best friend Janelle in with the gators.”
I laughed. “Not a chance. You’re my tried and true wingwoman, so you don’t get off that easily. I’ll call Amos and figure something out.”
Hera circled and the gray fluffballs hopped onto her back, one after the other. Some of them disappeared into white feathers.
“I’m sorry about what happened, Hera,” I told the swan. “If you don’t mind my calling you that. I’ve been keeping an eye on your mate, and I promise to bring all of you together again. Somewhere nice and safe to raise a family.”
The swan faced me dead on and it seemed like her beady eyes drilled into my soul.
“Yes, she’s good for it,” Jilly told the bird. “Ivy keeps her word, no matter how dirty the going gets.”
I got to my feet and we walked back to Janelle’s old beater. “This is dirty all right. And I’m going to get to the bottom of the swamp of deceit very soon. I’m circling the drain right now.”
“You know that means dying, right?” Jilly said. “Could you pick a different metaphor?”
I opened the door for her with a flourish. “We’re all dying, my friend. But hopefully we’ll age gracefully in a revitalized Clover Grove.”
“With plenty of stories to tell our children and grandchildren. We’ll be remembered as leaders in the culture revival movement.”
“Boring,” I said. “I’d rather be remembered as a vigilante farmer.”
“Suit yourself, cowboy,” she said, giving me a high five.
Chapter Twenty-Three
After we got back to the Briars, Jilly asked us to visit the rec center for a walk-through of the evening’s black tie social event. I didn’t want to think about parties and dancing. My focus was on rescuing the swans and solving the murders, in that order. The responsibility was starting to feel oppressive. I knew Jilly felt the same way. Whereas I preferred to isolate myself with Keats and Percy to allow mental space for things to come together, Jilly surrounded herself with people and worked off her stress with entertaining. I supported her but wished it didn’t mean dressing up and swanning around in heels tonight. Heels a size too large by the looks of things, since I hadn’t come equipped for black tie. Jilly knew that, so she asked Janelle to lend me something to wear. It was their first friendly exchange, so I didn’t put up a fuss. I’d take the clothes Janelle offered and help stitch their relationship back together. Besides, the only other option was to borrow a peasant dress and hippy sandals from Bridie.
As we left the rec center, Keats snapped into a point. Special Constable Doug was heaving things into the bed of a red pickup truck. There was a heavy plastic bag, a large fishing net, a long-handled tool I didn’t recognize, and some burlap sacks. After closing the tailgate, he got into the truck and drove off in the direction of the pond. An urgent whine told us to follow.
“We’ll never catch him,” Jilly said. “If he’s planning to capture the swan, he could be done by the time we get there.”
“But we can’t let him snag Zeus in a net like that,” I said. “He might break a wing or worse. We need to stop him.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Bridie said, beckoning. In the small executive parking lot beside the rec center sat Vaughan’s golf cart—the one with the gold falcon on the side. “I’m sure he leaves the key in the ignition.”
“We can’t just drive away in that,” Jilly said. “That falcon is a complete giveaway.”
“I know the back routes,” Bridie said. “I learned early to have a way out of any situation.”
“Gran, I like the way you think,” Janelle said. “I’ll drive.”
“Let Ivy drive,” Jilly said. “She’s used to bumpy rides.”
“You think I’m not?” Janelle said. “One good thing about working every single job at a resort is that I can handle any vehicle, including a backhoe.”
“Drive,” I said. “That leaves me free to watch what Doug is doing.”
Bridie took the passenger seat and Jilly and I got into the back with Percy in Jilly’s arms and Keats between my knees. We set off down a lane, trundled through three unfenced backyards, and then into a grove of trees.
“He’s souped this thing up,” Janelle said, slowing to cross a small creek before gunning it up a hill. “I’ve never stolen a nicer golf cart.”
“There have been others?” Bridie asked, from the front passenger seat.
Janelle tossed her a smile. “Only a few, Gran. Like you say, it’s good to have a way out of any situation.”
“Pay attention,” Jilly said. “That last bump almost threw Percy out.”
She had the cat locked in a viselike grip, but that left her without a free hand to brace herself. Meanwhile, Keats whined for a better position to see.
“Time to slow down,” I said, as the golf cart crested a small hill. “This is the perfect lookout.”
There were several gentle crests in the compound, and this one was well-placed. We could view the pond easily, and yet there was sufficient cover from scrub bush. Doug would only notice us if we made a wrong move and attracted his attention.
Down below, he stood on the dock with the boats and adjusted the brim of his red baseball cap. The swan was out in the center of the pond and made no move to approach. Doug opened a loaf of bread and started hurling big chunks of it into the water.
“You don’t feed bread to a swan,” Jilly whispered. “It’s not good for them at all.”
“I hope Zeus knows that,” I said. “Because a net isn’t good for him, either.”
The swan coasted backward with barely a ripple. Doug threw another couple of chunks harder and then gave up. He walked back to the truck and I held my breath as he dropped the tailgate.
Janelle turned to look at me. “What are we going to do if he snags the bird?”
I didn’t have an answer for that yet. In a crisis, I tended to rely on instinct. Luckily I didn’t need to tap into it now, because Doug grabbed the plastic bag rather than the net. Heaving it over his shoulder, he returned to the dock. Then he took a long look around, as if to make sure he wasn’t being watched. We all ducked in the golf cart without anyone saying a word. Even Percy stuck his head under Jilly’s arm.
Satisfied, he knelt on one knee, slashed the sack, and poured at least 30 pounds of a granular substance into the pond. Janelle filmed it on her phone.
“Is he trying to poison the swan?” Jilly whispered.
“Probably,” I said. “Easier than catching it and risking the wing-beating he deserves.”
“If he stole the swan from the hotel, wouldn’t he be treating it like a treasure?” Bridie asked.
“Plans change,” Jilly said. “Maybe he started out thinking a swan was good for the Briars and things went south. So now he’s trying to reverse course.”
“Either way, we can’t let that happen,” I said. “If he’s poisoned the pond, it’ll take time to disperse through the system. We’ll have Zeus out of there before it harms him.”
Doug threw the empty bag in the truck, closed the tailgate and got back in the pickup.
“The black tie event is the perfect cover for the rescue,” Janelle said. “What now?”
“Proof,” I said. “We need to follow Doug and get that bag.”
“Easy peasy,” Janelle said, reversing the golf cart. “At his next stop, Jilly and I will distract him while you take a look. Gran will stand guard.”
Jilly didn’t argue about taking direction from her cousin. When the chips were down, she always did the best thing to help the cause. Deploying their considerable family charms in service of the operation made good sense.
The only problem was that Doug didn’t
go back to the security station as we expected. Instead, he paused for a moment to open the gates remotely and then sailed through.
The doors quickly closed in our faces.
“Reverse and turn right, Janelle,” Bridie said. “And be quick about it. There’s a breach Doug doesn’t know about yet. As soon as he closes one, somebody opens another. Usually Vaughan, who likes to tootle over to Clarington to blow some coin at the casino. It’s only fitting we give his golf cart a taste of freedom.”
“Shouldn’t we take the truck?” I asked. “We’ll never catch Doug in a golf cart on the highway.”
“Watch me,” Janelle said. “I know this turf like the back of my hand from working at the Strathmore. We always found secret spots to blow off steam. I bet I can cut Doug off if we have to and then we’ll play it by ear.”
Turned out there was no need for highway heroics. Doug only drove about a mile before turning left and heading down a gravel road. Janelle hung well back, as if tailing someone was second nature. She pressed her stiletto down every time he rounded a curve, and lifted it on the straightaways when he might see us.
After a very bumpy mile, during which no one uttered a peep of protest, Doug turned left again. Janelle slowed to a crawl and said, “This is Muldoon’s Marina, which isn’t much of a marina. The locals come down here to hunt for snakes.”
“Hunt for snakes?” Jilly’s voice was hoarse.
“Burmese pythons, mostly,” Janelle said. “An invasive species that’s multiplying like crazy because they have no natural predators.”
“I heard about this,” I said. “People tired of them as pets and released them, never realizing they’d decimate the ecosystem.”
“Right, so now the government pays a nice bounty for every snake caught,” Janelle said. “A big one can bring in four grand or more, and they use the skins for shoes and bags.”
“That’s disgusting,” Jilly said, shuddering as Keats did near water. “Did you try it?”
