You Can Lead a Horse to Water (Proverbial Crime Mysteries Book 3)

by Dane McCaslin

  That comment I could understand. I laughed with her. "There's nothing wrong with that. At least she didn't name you after food." I'd met my share of Candys and Cherrys and could never figure out that angle.

  "True." She nodded. "Where do you want this to go?"

  She'd been standing there holding the box the entire time we'd been talking, and I hurried to direct her to the area I'd marked off for the apples. Oh, to be younger and in better shape, I thought wryly.

  "Thank you, Vic. You're a godsend, that's for sure."

  "No problem. I wasn't doing anything except playing dead anyway."

  I started to laugh but noticed that Vic's face stayed neutral, not a shred of amusement on it. This was certainly a confusing girl.

  "Okay, then." I motioned toward the open door of my car. "Shall we?"

  "You've got it."

  Between the two of us, we unloaded the rest of the boxes, stacking them neatly near the tank. By the time the car was empty, I was a sweaty mess. Vic wasn't.

  "Thanks again, Vic." I wiped one hand against my leg and offered it to her. She glanced down briefly, as if trying to figure out what I was doing, then took it in her own. We shook quickly, and I felt suddenly awkward, as though I was the young, gauche one here.

  "So I guess I'll see you later, Caro. And you were wrong, you know."

  Now what did the girl mean? My expression must have said it all, because she added, "Your mom did name you after food: Karo syrup."

  Before I could correct her, she'd given me a jaunty wave and was jogging down Main Street.

  I kept thinking about Vic as I began setting up the area for apple bobbing. Memories of childhood Halloweens and family parties came back, and I could clearly recall the nervousness I'd felt just before putting my face into the water, desperately hoping I'd get my apple in the first try so I wouldn't have to do it again. It occurred to me that I'd been more scared of the small tank or bucket we'd used than I'd ever been of rushing headlong into the ocean during family holidays. What was it that had made me feel that way, I wondered.

  Before I was able to come to a decision, I heard my named called. Turning, I saw Merry hurrying toward me, half running, half power walking, as she made a beeline to where I stood.

  "I just wanted to tell you that the tank will be filled up in about an hour, Caro." Leaning over form the waist, Merry put her hands on her knees and took a few deep breaths. "Good grief, I'm out of shape. When this whole thing is over, I need to start exercising."

  "You and me both," I said with a chuckle, "especially after meeting that young Amazon of a corpse."

  "Young Amazon? Oh." Merry's brow wrinkled, and then her face cleared and she grinned. "So you met Vic."

  I nodded, pointing toward the boxes. "She helped me empty out my car and it didn't even wind her." I mimed wiping my forehead. "Unlike yours truly, of course."

  "I was lucky she was available." Merry glanced down at her cell phone and frowned. "She's Sarah's driver, if you can believe it."

  "Sarah's driver?"

  Merry grinned. "She took my suggestion and actually got one of the neighborhood kids to drive her. I figured since Vic was going to be here anyway, I'd ask her to fill in for poor Viviana." She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "The show must go on, right?"

  "Absolutely." I nodded. "Aside from that, is everything else a go?" Shading my eyes with one hand, I peered down the street to where a buzz of activity was taking place.

  "Yep. Booths are going up as we speak and the pumpkin patch is being put together by a local Girl Scout troop."

  I leaned over and squeezed her arm. "I'm proud of you, Merry. You've managed to pull off what Lucia Scarantelli never could." The late and unlamented president of the town's chamber of commerce had done more to divide the local business owners than to bring them together as Merry had been able to do. "Tonight will be a blast."

  "I sure hope so." Merry gave a sudden shiver, then a half grin. "Must be someone dancing on my grave."

  "Don't say things like that," I said more severely than I meant to. I softened my words with a smile. "My mother used to say it was a goose walking over her grave. I've never heard about someone dancing on it."

  "Dance, walk, run, whatever. I just hope that it wasn't a sign of things to come."

  "I had no idea that you were so superstitious," I said with a small frown. "And don't let Viv's death get you down, Merry. That wasn't your fault."

  "I know, I know. And Scotty said the same thing, but…well, it's just bad timing."

  As if any time was a good time. I kept this to myself, however.

  "Scotty, hmm?" I grinned at her, waggling my eyebrows at her. "And when did this little conversation take place?"

  Merry blushed. "None of your business, Ms. Neighborhood Watch." She gave a sudden giggle, leaning closer to me as if sharing a deep secret. "Last night after his shift. He just wanted to make sure that I'd gotten all the help I needed for the festival."

  "Oh, I'll just bet he did." I had to smile back at her. I could tell that she was more than a little pleased to let slip that she'd had a visitor. And truth be told, I was delighted for her and for Officer Scott. They made a good pair—and it wouldn't hurt to have an insider in the Seneca Meadows Police Department. Any mystery writer worth her weight in salt cultivated her sources carefully, right?

  I dashed home to change for the festival and to coax Greg into joining me. Merry had assured me that the apples would be safe and that the tank would be ready for the first bobbers by five o'clock.

  "The street lights should be on by then, and I've got a few people stringing paper lanterns between the booths for extra light." Merry stretched her arms above her head and gave her back a twist.

  "I'm sure it will be gorgeous, Merry." I gave her an impulsive hug. "And I'll help you keep Sarah Lawson in check, okay? Thank goodness Lisa Caldwell isn't showing up until tomorrow."

  If I had known what a tall order that was going to be, I'd have bitten my tongue.

  * * *

  "This is a better turnout than I anticipated." Greg stood with his hands on his hips, Trixie's leash looped around one wrist. "Merry must be very proud."

  "And so she should be," I said. "She's worked so hard on this. And now I'd better get over to the tank before the natives get restless." From where we stood, I could see a few children chasing one another near the apple-bobbing station, their parents standing off to the side and chatting. "Want to walk me over?"

  "Of course." He smiled down at me, his blue eyes bracketed in wrinkles created by years of humor and the great outdoors. "Let's see if Trixie agrees." He gave a gentle tug on the leash without success. Her sharp little face looked up at him and then at me with an expression of such complete indifference that was so human-like I had to laugh.

  "Well, I guess that's her opinion, then. Here, I'll carry her." I reached down and scooped the long furry body into my arms. "Good grief, Greg. Has she gained weight or what?"

  "She's a girl, Caro."

  His casual comment caused me to pause midstep and stare up at him. "And that means what exactly, dear hubby?" I gave his middle a pointed glare, which really added to my irritation. He was still as trim as he'd been when we were at university, while I, on the other hand, had gotten content.

  "Exactly what I said. She's a girl. It's a proven fact that the females of the species tend to hold on to their weight in case they need it for offspring."

  I raised one eyebrow. "And is this what you discussed at your meetings?"

  His eyebrows mirrored mine. "No. We talked about…"

  "Oh, hush, you big ninny," I interrupted him with a jab from my elbow. "I hope I can waddle my way there. Looks like I have a line."

  Actually, it looked more like a many-headed creature, the bigger kids pushing the smaller ones to the back of the queue, using their feet as a brace against the tank. Handing Trixie back to Greg, I hurried over to restore some sort of order before one of the little darlings ended up face first in the water.
/>   "Here, now," I began, then stopped. From where I stood, I had a straight line of vision toward the back of the store where the tank was placed. Vic, it would seem, had chosen my booth for her gig as the festival's corpse. Shaking my head at her choice of venue, I turned back to take control of the rowdy customers at the apple-bobbing tank. I thought she was bit early, to be honest, but I chalked it up to her youthful exuberance.

  I had to admire the skill of some of the apple bobbers. Parents stood nearby, taking pictures on their cell phones and laughing when their progeny popped up holding an apple firmly in their teeth. The highlight came when one little boy, his hair sticking up in wet clumps, grabbed the apple from his mouth and held it up to show his mom the small white tooth sticking out of the red fruit.

  Maybe children weren't so bad after all, I found myself thinking but quickly banished that from my mind. I blamed Greg for talking about "the female of the species" and all that nonsense.

  I'd just opened the last box of apples when a shout from further down the street caught my attention. Turning around and looking in the direction that the noise came from, I spotted several people running from the main booth where Sarah Lawson was holding court, signing books and taking pictures with her fans. Making up my mind, I turned back to the last few hopefuls.

  "I'm going to have to close the tank for a while." The groans that met my words were as loud as if I'd announced an end to all things Pokémon. Ignoring the dirty looks and mutterings directed at me, I headed as quickly as I could toward the ruckus.

  The closer I got to Sarah's booth, the more I could see that the action, whatever it was, was right there. I spotted Merry in the crowd, her eyes wide as she stood staring at something I couldn't see.

  "Merry," I called out, "what's going on?"

  She turned in my direction, and I could clearly see that she was upset. "Oh, Caro, I can't believe it. This town must be cursed or something."

  "Why? What's happened?" I stood next to her and put one arm around her shoulders. I could feel her trembling under my arm, and I craned my neck to see what had caught her eyes.

  In answer, she merely pointed.

  Just behind Sarah Lawson's booth was a pair of booted feet. A very still pair of feet, I might add, surrounded by a flurry of activity. Confused, I looked at Merry.

  "But the corpse was over by the apple-bobbing tank." I pointed back in the direction that I'd come. "How did she get here?"

  Merry just shook her head.

  "It's not Vic, Caro. It's Lisa Caldwell."

  "Lisa Caldwell?" I stared at Merry for a long moment as though trying to decipher a foreign phrase. "But she's not due here until tomorrow."

  "Yes. Sarah Lawson decked her."

  "Sarah did what?" Now it really was a foreign language Merry was speaking.

  "She punched her right in the kisser," Merry said, shaking her head as she craned her neck to see what was going on in the booth. "And Lisa just dropped like a rock. We'll be lucky if Sarah isn't arrested for assault. So much for my family friendly festival."

  "Oh, good grief." I grabbed Merry's arm and began dragging her along with me. "Look, Vic's still playing dead over by the apple-bobbing tank. We need to go and let her know that the gig's over."

  "Oh, my goodness." Merry clapped one hand to her forehead. "I completely forgot about her. Her mother's really gonna kill me if we leave her there all night."

  "So tell me how Lisa got here and found Sarah," I said as we dashed back to where an impromptu diving contest was being held, one small child having fully immersed herself in among with apples. "Is there someone who can help me drain this tank? These kids are going to end up getting hurt."

  "Just ask them to have a water fight," said Merry distractedly. "Used to work with my brothers." She paused by the last box of apples. "Where did you say Vic was, Caro?"

  I turned around from where I was holding one boy by his collar as he tried to dunk his little brother and pointed in the general direction in which I'd last seen her. His mother, completely oblivious to the chaos, was busy texting. I wanted to drag her offspring over to her and drop them, wet and wriggling, on her expensive leather Santoni shoes.

  That, unfortunately, was my last coherent thought for a while. When Merry began screaming, I knew the evening was a complete ruin.

  CHAPTER SIX

  "We're trying to convince her to go to the hospital, Caro. She's in shock." Officer Scott, his normally jovial face filled with concern, pulled me aside from the crowd. "Could you try talking her into it?"

  "I completely agree with you, Scotty. She's in no condition to go home." I stood on my tiptoes, trying to find Merry above the fray and failing abysmally. At five feet nothing, I tended to be a tad handicapped in the height category. "And I'll give it the ol' college try, but I'm not promising anything. You know Merry."

  He nodded, lips compressed tightly. "I do. That's what's bothering me. She'll act as though everything is peachy keen and then collapse when no one is looking."

  "Give me a few minutes, okay? And have you seen Greg?"

  He nodded and pointed above the crowd. "I saw him heading toward Candy's a few minutes before everything went belly up."

  "Of course he did," I said wryly. "Trixie will be in seventh heaven."

  Candy's Sweets and Treats was a staple in downtown Seneca Meadows and one of my favorite places to go. From incredible desserts to a lunch menu that was equal to any New York City restaurant, it never ceased to amaze me.

  "Okay, Caro." Scotty gave me a pat on the shoulder as he turned to go. "I'm trusting that you'll be able to get her to see straight."

  "I'll try," I promised him, forcing a smile as I said it. I felt as though my lips had stretched to their widest as the words edged their way out. "I'll certainly try."

  I found Merry standing near the pumpkin patch, her face pale and her mouth a tight line of emotion. I reached out and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

  "Are you okay? Can I do anything to help?"

  She shook her head, still silent.

  "Look, Merry. I really think you need to be seen at the hospital, okay? You've had a bad shock."

  "There's nothing wrong with me that a slug of whiskey wouldn't cure." She met my eyes, and I could see color coming back into her cheeks. "And a complete rewind to this horrible day."

  "Isn't that the truth," I agreed dryly. There was nothing like murder to ruin a good time.

  "So, what are we going to do about it?"

  I shifted uncomfortably, folding my arms and dropping my eyes. When I didn't say anything, she gave a sigh.

  "Look, Caro, two people involved in the fall festival have died, and one was just a young girl. I don't know about you, but I want to find out who did this."

  I shrugged. "The police are already on it, Merry. Don't you trust Scotty?"

  She threw up her hands. "Of course I trust him. What kind of question is that?"

  "We're not detectives, Merry," I said gently, "but he is. He has the resources to find out what happened and why, and all we can do is hope we talk to the right person."

  "Then let's talk, Caro. We can begin by talking to those two idiots."

  I had to laugh. I knew exactly who she meant.

  "I take it that you won't be carrying their books any longer?"

  "You've got that right, girlfriend." She brushed her hands together as if she was rubbing off something dirty. "They can kiss my bookstore good-bye."

  "Well, let's have that conversation with them before you break the news, all right?"

  "So we're going to investigate after all?" Merry's voice held a note of anxiety that matched my own feelings.

  "Yes, we'll ask questions, Merry. But," I added, holding up one hand, "we're not real detectives. And I have another book proposal to write before my agent pitches a fit."

  "Who's having a fit?"

  Merry and I turned around to see Greg standing behind us, Trixie's leash dangling from his arm. Judging by the bulge of her belly, Trixie had been snacki
ng at Candy's along with my husband. I reached down to scratch her ears, turning my head to look up at Greg.

  "She looks like she can hardly waddle, Greg. How much did you give her to eat?"

  "She did it to herself, Caro." He lifted the dachshund into his arms, and I could have sworn that she groaned. "Candy wanted to show her to the new baker." He shrugged. "He made the mistake of leaving a pan of cinnamon rolls on the lowest cooling rack."

  "Do you think we should give Dr. Faith a call?" I bent over to plant a kiss on Trixie's soft furry head. "I don't want her getting sick later and running up a huge vet's bill."

  "Let's worry about first things first, Caro." Greg looked from me to Merry. "Are you two all right?" He frowned, adding, "I'm assuming that you'll need to hang around and make a statement or two."

  "Maybe," I said, not quite meeting his eyes. "Our second corpse really became the second corpse." It sounded ridiculous even to me, and I made up things for a living.

  Merry snorted. "We're getting just about as bad as that town in Murder, She Wrote, where you get a dead body once a week."

  "As long as the pair of you don't begin thinking that you're Jessica Fletcher," said Greg, shaking his head.

  I could see several police cruisers, lights silently flashing, blocking off the area next to the store where Vic's body had been found. They'd come for the fight and were staying for something much worse. The ambulance that had been called for the battling authors had already departed for the hospital, but the coroner's van still sat down the street, ready to take Vic to the morgue.

  I shivered. Merry's goose had just danced on my grave as well.

  * * *

  "Doesn't it seem that we end up here every time there's a murder in Seneca Meadows?" I gestured around my kitchen with my half-full coffee mug, taking in the glum expressions of my tablemates. The only one who looked contented was Trixie, lying curled up in her basket, snoring to beat the band.

  "Scotty said he'd be stopping by later." Merry's shoulders were drooping along with her mood, and I didn't blame her. Finding one body was enough to put one off one's food, so to speak, and she had found two. Maybe her shield of sangfroid was beginning to crumble. It wasn't that we'd become inured to finding bodies—absolutely not. It was safe to say, though, that Merry and I each had our own way of dealing with things in a way that might seem unfeeling to those around us.