I close them immediately.
Next to me, my dad flinches.
“Despicable,” murmurs Silas.
“That tape and the evidence we found at Darrin’s place will be more than enough to clear you of the murder charge, Jacob.”
“Oh, and this.” I take the black button bearing the fouled anchor from my pocket and set it on the table. “Pye brought it in from the alley. I swear I wasn’t poking around. I didn’t even know what it was until my dad mentioned Darrin’s dishonorable discharge from the Navy.”
Sheriff Erick looks at the button, picks it up, and shakes his head. “I’m not sure if you’re lucky, talented, or diabolical.”
“Can I be all three?” I smile as innocently as I know how.
My father interrupts our mutual admiration society. “You were saying—about the murder charge?”
Sheriff Harper nods and continues, “The conviction will be expunged from your record.”
I turn to hug my dad, but I’m not prepared for the look on his face.
His eyes are red and his jaw is clenched tight.
I swallow hard. I don’t know what to say. I can’t begin to imagine how hard that must’ve been for him to watch. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Dad.”
“That poor man. Why did he reach for that phone?” Dad slams his fist on the wobbly table. “Darrin was always overreacting.”
Silas stands and places a firm hand on my dad’s shoulder. “It’s in the past, Jacob. Your anger won’t bring that man back.”
I watch as my father’s shoulders relax and his breathing calms.
I force a smile to my face. “Let’s go see if Pyewacket needs some Fruity Puffs.”
Jacob nods and follows me out of the station.
“I have no idea where the animal hospital is. Do you?”
Jacob looks down at me and a faraway mist fills his gaze. “I went there once with Cal. He hit a dog out on some back road. I can probably find it.”
I fish the Mercedes keys out of my pocket. “My car’s parked back by the bookshop.”
“Don’t tell your Grams you let me drive it.” He chuckles as he takes the keys.
“Why not?”
“It was one of the many things that Isadora ‘strictly forbade’ when I was growing up.” He spins the key chain around his finger. “The Mercedes.”
I’m not sure I like the way he says that. I’m already hoping I won’t regret this.
We arrive at the animal hospital in one piece. However, I’m going to enact Isadora’s rules for all future car rides. My dad is what you’d call a “lead foot” and I’m sure he purposely took the longest route possible to the vet.
I take a couple deep breaths to settle my stomach and pop open the gull-wing door.
Dad walks around and offers me a hand. His face-splitting grin unnerves me.
I snatch the keys from his hand. “I’ll be driving back.”
For a moment he looks like an over-eager puppy. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I walk into the stark white clinic and approach the über-modern reception desk.
A man with Tally’s smile and Tilly’s pouf of grey hair jumps to his feet. “Mitzy Moon, as I live and breathe!” He extends a hand.
I roll the dice. “Ledo?”
“Well now, they said you were sharp as a tack!” He grabs my hand and nearly shakes my arm off. “I bet you’re here to see that brave kitty.”
“Looks like I’m not the only one getting top marks today, Ledo.”
Tally’s brother’s confusion transforms into amusement before my eyes. He swats me on the back and guffaws. “And sassy as a cucumber, too!”
Don’t look at me. I had no idea vegetables could be sassy.
Ledo opens the door to a small recovery room. “The bullet grazed his scapula and punctured his lung—but the good news is that it missed the liver.” He sweeps his arm forward and smiles sympathetically. “You can stay as long as you like.”
I whisper my thanks as I walk past and enter.
The sight of the large and powerful Pyewacket lying motionless on a tiny bed with tubes coming out of him and needles poking into him compresses my chest.
Jacob slips an arm around me. “It looks much worse than it is, sweetie. This morning the Doc here”—He gestures to Ledo—“told me they have to keep him sedated so he doesn’t rip out his stitches.”
Doc Ledo smiles reassuringly at us.
I stare at the friendly man who greeted us when we came in. Why is the veterinarian manning the front desk? No time to puzzle that out. I nod and smile.
“When can we take him home?” asks Jacob.
I can’t make any words. I just stare at the bandages, and the images of that horrible night in the staircase replay, intercut with footage from that awful security tape.
“He’ll have to stay at least until the weekend. We need to make sure there’s no seepage.”
At the word seepage, my full attention returns to the doctor. Johnny Mnemonic, starring Keanu Reeves, is one of my favorite movies of all time. Not a terribly popular choice with painfully poignant film-school students, but I like it. Seepage is one of the worst things that can happen in the movie. I cannot allow Pye to suffer any seepage.
“Can I stay with him?”
The doctor looks at me like I’m a little simple. “You want to stay here? At an animal hospital?”
For some reason the question offends me in my time of grief. I’ve seen women carry dogs in their purses. I can’t be the first person who wanted to stay close to their beloved pet. “Yes. I’d like to stay in this room.” I remember that I’m rich. “I’ll have a cot brought in.”
Jacob chuckles. “Sweetie, this isn’t Keeping up with the—”
“I’m not leaving Pyewacket.” I’m suddenly keenly aware of my attachment to this tan fur ball.
Doc Ledo nods politely. “I’m sure we can arrange something, Mitzy.”
“I’m sure you can.”
Ledo leaves without another word.
Jacob puts an arm around my shoulders. “Is the money going straight to your head?” He stifles a laugh.
“It might be,” I admit as I blush.
He ruffles my hair as though I’m a six-year-old kid. “I don’t deserve you.”
I desperately attempt to repair my hairdo, before I remember how I rolled out of bed and went directly to breakfast. I must’ve looked like warmed-over death when Erick saw me. Oh brother!
“I need to follow up with Cal’s lawyer. Is it all right if I leave you here?”
“How will you get back? We drove quite a ways to get here.” I touch my dad’s arm in concern.
He pats my hand. “It’s only a couple blocks back to Main Street. I took the long way here.”
“I knew it!” I punch him playfully on the arm.
He hugs me. “Can I escort you to the Pin Cherry Festival tonight?”
“Absolutely not.” I shake my head and cross my arms. “I’m sitting right here next to Pye until he’s released.”
Jacob shrugs. “Your loss. Tonight’s the pin cherry pie-eating contest. I won three years in a row—back in the day.”
“Tragic.” I roll my eyes.
He laughs and leaves me in the sterile little room with nothing but the beep of machines to break the silence.
I scratch Pye’s head right between his ears. “You are the most irritating mammal in the universe, Pyewacket. And I think I love you.”
I swear he purrs.
Chapter 30
I spend three days doting on my four-legged savior. Odell brings me sustenance, and Silas takes messages to Grams.
By Friday evening my dad has had his fill. “I know I’m twenty-one years too late, Mitzy, but I’m pulling the dad card. I’m escorting you to the closing ceremonies of the Pin Cherry Festival tonight and I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
I open my mouth to protest.
He crosses his arms and pinches his nose. “And someone has to tell you the truth
about how badly you need a shower.”
I look down at my “Free Contradictions $1.00” tee and scrunch up my own nose. The truth hurts.
I scratch between Pye’s tufted ears, lean over to him, and whisper, “I’ll be back tomorrow. Don’t do anything stupid—anything else stupid—before I get back.”
His left front paw moves.
He’s probably swatting a chunk of skin off my ankle in his drug-induced dream. Little adorable demon. I can see exactly why Grams spoiled him rotten. Looks like old Pyewacket has gotten himself another convert—perhaps I should say slave.
I look up at my dad’s stubbornly crossed arms and exhale loudly. “All right, I’ll go. I’m sure Grams would love to get me into another one of her vintage dresses.”
I check out with Doc Ledo and make sure someone will be in the office on Saturday to let me in. Once Pyewacket’s welfare has been secured, Jacob and I drive back to the bookshop.
He gives me a quick hug. “I’ll go get cleaned up and be back to pick you up around 6:30. Sound good?”
“What about dinner?” I haven’t had anything since Odell’s breakfast special was delivered to my bedside vigil.
“There’s a large food court at the festival. I’m sure you’ll find a variety of fried things to devour.”
“Rude.” I grin and shake my head. I like food. What can I say? One day when my metabolism slows down . . . I’ll worry about that later.
Once I’m safely over the chain and ensconced in the dream closet, Grams fusses over dress selection.
“No. Red is too on the nose.” She swirls down the row again.
“You said that a half hour ago.” I sink onto the antique bench in the middle of the small room. “I’m going to shower while you debate with yourself.”
She barely acknowledges my exit. “Whatever you say, dear.”
I have to wash my hair twice. Truth time, the shower was way overdue.
Back at closet headquarters, Grams has narrowed the selection down to five semi-finalists. I immediately rule out three of the options as too “foofy” for my current mood. I agree to try on the remaining two finalists.
I don’t hate the flowy white dress, but I plan to eat at this festival. In the end, Grams and I agree on the black, cherry-sequined dress by Altuzarra. It definitely hits the theme on the head, and the dark background ensures that any drops of pin cherry will be camouflaged.
I attempt to recreate the sleek sophistication of my ladies’ luncheon hairdo.
“It’s a good effort, honey.”
Ghosts! Who knew they were so opinionated.
I grab a pair of black chunky heels with a delicate ankle strap. I need a solid heel to walk around the festival grounds, but the single strap looks great with the embellished ruffle on the dress.
The intercom buzzes.
“Yes?”
My dad’s voice comes through the speaker. “Ready?”
“Be right down.”
I turn to Grams. “How do I look?”
“Gorgeous, smart. Maybe the sheriff will be there.” She chuckles.
“Ha ha. I’m sure a lawman has better things to do than traipse around a fruit festival.”
Grams nods fervently. “I’m sure you’re right.”
Her tone concerns me. I shake it off and hurry across the mezzanine.
As I circle down the staircase my dad lets out a low whistle. “Watch out, Pin Cherry! Mitzy Moon has arrived.”
I blush. “Cut it out. You’re my dad. You’re supposed to be impressed.”
He shakes his head. “If you don’t spend most of the night dancing, I’ll eat a pin cherry pie.”
I laugh and hook my arm through his elbow. “That’s not much of a compliment since I happen to know you can easily eat a pile of pies if there’s a trophy at stake.”
We take Dad’s 1955 Ford F100 pickup. I take note that he drives his own vehicle at a calm, rational speed. I’m grateful to arrive at the fairgrounds without incident and breathing normally.
Even a big city girl like me has to admit that the festival looks magical. Edison lights hang in front of every booth as far as the eye can see, and the requisite cherry lights adorn hundreds of birch and pine along the border of the grounds.
A riff on “the gazebo” stands in the center of the fair. The six-sided structure is constructed from logs and resembles an old log cabin without walls.
A large, well-lit dance area wraps around the rotunda. I hope my dad is wrong about the dancing. Very wrong.
We make our way through the booths.
“Thanks for talking me into this, Dad. It’s pretty fun.”
His eyes widen in mock horror. “Just ‘pretty fun?’ I was thinking this could be my ‘not a murderer’ celebration. Seems like that should at least get a ‘rad,’ or whatever you kids are saying these days.” The laughter lifts my spirits.
His mood is infectious and I hook my arm through his as I cheer, “Let’s get turnt!”
He giggles like a schoolboy as he walks me toward a large pink-and-red canvas tent. “You have to try the deep-fried pin cherry ice cream,” says Jacob.
I throw caution to the wind and give in to the dark side of cherry.
Cakes, cookies, relishes, sandwiches, smoothies, donuts . . . By the time I’m sipping my second red Solo Cup of pin cherry wine, I’m a dedicated fan of all things festive.
An older gentleman in a tuxedo with tails, and pin cherries adorning his top hat, steps up to the podium in the log-zebo.
“That’s the mayor,” whispers Jacob.
“Ladies and gentlemen, honored guests and dedicated residents, I’d like to invite Sheriff Harper to join me at the microphone.
Erick makes his way through the crowd, shaking hands and patting backs like a politician. As he climbs the steps, I nod. “Now there’s a dessert I’d like to try.”
Dad nudges me. “Mitzy, shhh.”
All the color would drain from my face if my cheeks weren’t artificially rosy from pin cherry wine. I honestly did not mean to say that out loud. I take a big sip of my wine and promise myself I’ll blend in for the rest of the party.
While the sheriff explains the hallmarks of a Pin Cherry Festival Princess my attention wanders. Tilly and Tally stand across from me on the edge of the dance area.
They are cheering and clapping.
I catch their eye and wave.
They respond with frantically over-zealous waves. Then Tally points to the log-zebo.
It looks like she’s gesturing for me to go up there. Does she know about my crush on the sheriff?
Jacob nudges me. “I’d get up there if I was you. It’s worse if the Pin Cherry Patrol carries you on their shoulders.”
Why is he laughing? And then I hear my name.
“Come on, Miss Moon.” The sheriff waves me up to the stage. “Let’s all give another round of applause to encourage our new Pin Cherry Festival Princess up to the mic.”
Now the color truly does drain. Wine or no wine.
My own father gives me a firm push.
The crowd parts.
All sound vanishes from my world. The terror of this moment has me trapped in a slow-motion walk of shame.
Suddenly a cackle of delight breaks through.
The one and only Twiggy hoots and howls from her prime location right next to the steps.
I guess that answers the question of how my name got tossed into the hat for Pin Cherry Princess. Oh, my vengeance will be merciless.
The Pin Cherry Patrol swoops in and, before I can protect what’s left of my dignity, I’m hoisted up on the shoulders of four burly high school boys and trucked up to the podium.
After they dump me unceremoniously on the dais, I stumble forward and suffer further embarrassment as Sheriff Erick grabs me around the waist to keep me from falling. Let the record show that he hesitates in removing his arm until well after I’m stabilized.
“Congratulations to Pin Cherry Harbor’s newest resident and our new Princess!” The mayor s
lips a sash over my head to the thunderous cheers of the festivalgoers.
My face must be as red as a cherry.
“And now for the traditional dance. Take her for a spin, Sheriff.” The mayor plops my hand into Erick’s and shoves us toward the empty dance area.
I pinch myself mercilessly. If I can just wake up . . .
The sheriff leads me down the steps and spins me.
The shock of his dance skill snaps me out of wishing this was all a daydream. I count it a small mercy that I don’t land on my backside.
Erick catches my hand in the nick of time and swirls me back into a “leave room for the holy spirit” respectable partners hold. “From murderer to princess in less than two weeks. What does the future hold for the indomitable Miss Moon?” His smile intrigues.
Time to get ahold of this thing. “I guess you’ll have to stay tuned, Erick.”
He grins and dips me.
The crowd goes wild. And a bunch of couples join in the dancing.
I nearly lose my sash.
He whips me upright and I can’t help but notice the tiny beads of sweat on his brow. Oh, he plays the confident man about town, but it would seem that ol’ Mitzy Moon still keeps him off balance.
The humble brag has no sooner formed in my mind than Erick catches that darn boot of his and we tumble onto the grass at the edge of the dance arena.
Once again, his Too Hot To Handle body breaks my fall.
Many hands scoop down and help us to our feet.
Lucky for me, Jacob is the first to grab my hand. He scoops an arm around me and shields me with his body. “Well, that was unfortunate.” He chuckles.
“I’ll say.” I brush grass off my dress and smooth my hair. “I was just about to get the upper hand.”
My dad laughs. “Come on, slugger. I’ll get you a pin cherry brownie to make it all better.”
I do not resist.
Silas stands next to the brownie booth and waves as we approach. “Ah, serendipity.”
I shrug.
“I have news.” He takes an unnecessarily large bite of his brownie.
Jacob gets two more, and the three of us head toward a park bench while Silas continues to chew.
He lifts the chocolate-cherry confection for another mouthful and I put up my hand. “Can we get the news?”
Fries and Alibis Page 17