Callie thought about heading to bed herself. Jagger obviously was leaning that way, as he’d begun following her about the cottage with significant glances toward the stairs. The hour was right, but Callie’s body didn’t agree, as agitation from all the thoughts running through her head kept her keyed up. Would reading something totally off-topic do the trick?
She was scouring through Aunt Mel’s bookshelves in the guest bedroom when she heard the sirens. The sound was unusual in Keepsake Cove and caught her attention. She listened closely to try to pinpoint the location. Where were they headed? Away from House of Melody, she could tell, as the sound gradually faded. But how far?
It worried her enough for her to trot downstairs and step outside. The sirens had stopped. But where?
Callie hurried down the path along the side of her shop to get to the front sidewalk, where she saw Karl Eggers staring down the street in the direction of Stitches Thru Time. “Fire truck,” he said, and Callie’s heart jumped.
“One of the shops?” she asked.
Karl shook his head. “Don’t know. Might have gone farther down. Maybe the park.”
Callie couldn’t just stand there, wondering, so she took off, not caring that she’d left her cottage unlocked or that she was jogging in a pair of fuzzy pink slippers, which required regular stops and adjustments. The farther she ran, the more smoke she saw, rising above the roofs of shops and cottages. She passed Stitches Thru Time, relieved to see it was okay, and made it to the edge of the park. She slowed as flashing lights and shouts of firefighters assailed her. With no way to move closer, she looked around at the crowd that had gathered and spotted Bill Hart, Laurie’s husband, across the street. She hurried over to him.
“What is it?” she asked, struggling to catch her breath and get the words out.
“It’s the hay wagon Del Hodges brought over for the book event,” Bill said. “It’s gone up in flames.”
Seventeen
C allie watched from the edge of the park along with the other spectators until the smoke finally thinned. When the firefighters started wrapping up their hoses, she knew the fire had been successfully put out, though the word spread that Del Hodges’s wagon was a total loss. Luckily it had been isolated enough that the flames were contained. Dejected, Callie headed home along with dozens of others.
As she drew closer to her shop, she spotted Delia standing in front of Shake It Up! in a blue robe and matching slippers. Her long hair, normally tied up in a bun, hung over her shoulders. Callie told her what had happened.
“Poor Del!” Delia said. “How did this happen?”
“On a clear night like this, that fire wasn’t caused by something like a lightning strike,” Callie said. “Somebody must have started it.”
“Who? And why?”
“I don’t know, but I hope the police can find out.” Callie looked down at her slippers. The cottony material wasn’t designed for outdoors, not to mention jogging. She could feel the cold pavement through significant rips in the soles. “Thank goodness the wagon was a couple hundred yards from the gazebo, and the fire didn’t spread. A passerby spotted the smoke and called 911 before that could happen. We have tomorrow to clean up leftover debris in the park and the gazebo area and to set up the tents. Assuming they allow us in, that is.”
Delia shook her head. Whether it was distress over the fire or over the major set-back to their event preparations, Callie didn’t know. But as she rubbed at the goose bumps on her arms, she envied her friend her warm-looking robe and particularly the slippers. With the level of protection her own currently offered, her feet might as well have been bare. She glanced at the nearby trash can and considered peeling her slippers off and dropping them in, but then decided something was better than nothing.
She noticed a familiar figure heading their way after separating from a small group amidst muted good nights. Callie realized it was Brian. Had he been in the milling crowd? How had she missed him?
“The fire chief said they found evidence of an accelerant,” he said as he came up to them. “They’ll have to do more testing, but they’re leaning pretty heavily toward arson.”
“Could it have been kids playing a malicious prank?” Delia asked.
Callie shook her head. “I think someone wanted to stop the book event. Coming on the heels of that fake cancellation message at the book store, it must have been the next attempt. The only question is why. What’s so threatening about an author event?”
Delia looked blank, and Brian said, “Beats me. Somebody with an agenda against Lyssa, maybe because of the subject of her books—vampires and witches? A few people have very strong opinions against what they consider to be glorifying evil.”
“But why not just petition for another author?” Callie asked. “We picked her exactly because of her stories, because Halloween is coming up. Has anyone around here ever protested celebrating Halloween?”
Both her companions shook their heads. “Might someone have wanted to hurt the Keepsake Cove Shop Owners’ Association?” Delia asked. “This whole thing, after all, was to benefit the shops.”
Callie shrugged. She couldn’t see that. But none of it made sense. Probably the most they could hope for was that the culprit would be caught. She had a sudden thought. “What about the tents? We need to set them up tomorrow. The same person could come back and burn them down tomorrow night!”
“I’ll see about getting a police guard,” Brian said. “After this fire, I can’t believe they’d refuse, but if they do, I’ll organize volunteers to keep watch.”
“Thanks, Brian. I’ll willingly sign up for a shift if we have to go that way.”
“Me too,” Delia said.
“But now,” Callie said, rubbing vigorously at her arms, “I need to get indoors. I’m freezing! See you tomorrow,” she called as she hurried off, picturing the hot shower she intended to hop into as quickly as possible.
Up early Monday morning, Callie threw a warm but ratty sweatshirt on over an old pair of jeans. Who knew how much of a mess they might be faced with in the park? Boots would also be a good idea, she figured, what with the amount of water she’d seen spray from the fire hoses. She was dumping coffee grounds into her trash when her phone rang. It was Lyssa.
“I just had breakfast at the inn with George. Hah! Sounds like that musical: Sunday in the Park with George! No singing, though. Just me trying to worm things out of the man. Jeez! You’d think I was trying to get his bank account numbers, the work I had to put in. But I got a couple of things, like where he grew up. It’s a small town in southern Virginia called Greenock.” She spelled it.
Callie grabbed a pencil and wrote it down. “Anything else?”
“Just that he left Virginia after college and has moved around a lot ever since for his work. He told me his wife died a few years ago, but you heard that already.”
“Right. I tried to find him on the internet, but there’s a million George Coles. Did you get anything about who he works for? That might help.”
“Nope. That was it. I brought up Jane’s name, prattled on about her and about Dorothy, but he never took the bait. Sorry.”
“It’s a good start.”
“Yeah. I’ll see if I can get more later. Can’t be too obvious, obviously, hah! Hey, what’s happened at the park? I heard there was a fire.”
Callie told her everything, including Brian’s thoughts on why it might have happened.
“Well, I’ve heard from a few disgruntled readers about the subject matter of my books, but I’ve never had any threats, thank goodness. Funny thing, though. The complainers always have finished the entire book. I know because they can quote from beginning to end. Bet they went on to buy the next one so they could write another oh, how awful! review somewhere.” Lyssa chuckled. “Can things still go on tomorrow night? We have a lot of books being trucked in.”
“Absolutely. There
’s plenty of your fans who’d be devastated if we canceled. But we’re also taking precautions that nothing more happens. Everything should be set up by tonight.”
Lyssa made an offer to come help, but not a particularly strong one. Callie guessed she was already composing the next scene in her head and eager to tap it into her laptop. She assured Lyssa that she had plenty of volunteers, who were probably already gathering at the park. They wished each other a successful day and rang off.
When Callie arrived, along with a few members of her crew, she saw Del Hodges standing at the edge of a scorched circle of grass, hands on hips as he stared at the remains of his wagon. The others quickly scattered, leaving Callie to deal with him. She approached tentatively. His posture and the expression on that sun-bronzed, leathery face strongly suggested he was ready to spit nails.
“Mr. Hodges?” she said.
He turned to pierce her with steely eyes. Then they softened, and his shoulders relaxed. “Miz Reed. Heck of a thing to happen, isn’t it?”
“It is. I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault. Some fool took it in his head to cause a whole lot of trouble for everyone. Not for the first time, I’d say. I’ve had crops damaged by dirt bikes, and cows let out of their pens to go wandering down the roads. Kids’ idea of fun. Some kids, that is. This is probably the work of one of them.”
Callie disagreed but held her tongue.
“I can call around,” Hodges said. “See if we can get you another hay wagon by tomorrow night.”
“Really? That would be great. But after what happened, would anyone want to risk it?”
Hodges chuckled. “You’re new here, aren’t you? We help each other out. When one of us runs into a jam, we pull together to get them out of it. We might even catch the guy who did this, just to make sure nobody else goes through it.”
Can you catch the guy who murdered Clifford Ashby while you’re at it? Callie wanted to ask. But she thanked the farmer profusely before moving on to catch up with the others.
Laurie Hart was already sweeping the gazebo, and Bill had started hanging the Halloween decorations that Callie had ordered: skeletons, bats, and huge lifelike spiders. Too lifelike. Callie gave one a wide berth as she stepped up and into the gazebo.
“We’re lucky,” Laurie said. “None of the water reached this far, so no mud to deal with.”
“Thank goodness,” Callie replied, to which Laurie vigorously nodded agreement.
“Ready for the throne?” Delia called out. She’d driven over with one of her dark wicker chairs for Lyssa to sit in as she read from her newest book. At the end of her presentation, the chair would be moved to a nearby table that would be piled high with books Lyssa would sign for her fans. If, that is, all went well and the books arrived in time.
“Sure,” Laurie said. “Bill, want to help Delia bring the chair in?”
“I’ll do it.” Callie heard Randal Martin’s deep voice, and she waved to him.
“Thanks, Randal,” Bill called. “I’ll keep working on the decorations here.”
Callie saw Krystal Cobb, the Keepsake Cove association’s president, arrive, but from Krystal’s garb—a houndstooth blazer over dark trousers—it was clear that she wasn’t there to work.
“How does it look?” Krystal asked. “Can you get everything ready by tomorrow night?”
“I’m sure we can. We might even get a replacement for the hay wagon.”
“Wonderful. How about the tents?”
“Arriving any minute, along with the rental chairs.”
Krystal looked around at Callie’s volunteers busily tidying the area. “That’s a big relief. When I heard about the fire I feared we were done for. Thank you, Callie, for stepping up and taking on this big job. There’s a lot of your Aunt Melodie in you, I can see.”
Callie smiled. There was no higher praise, to her mind. However, her job was still far from done. “You’ll be introducing Lyssa tomorrow night?”
“Absolutely. Looking forward to it!”
“The tents are here!” someone shouted from a distance, and people scurried to make way as the truck pulled slowly in.
Callie was fascinated at how organized the tent crew was, unloading and laying out their equipment in choreographed precision. They pounded stakes into the ground, spread out the huge canopy for the main tent, and in an impressively short time raised and secured it on center and side poles. The smaller tent for concessions was then set up at the same time the chairs were unloaded. Callie had ordered side walls as protection in case of rain, and she talked with the tent crew manager about whether or not to attach them.
“Your call,” the man in hard hat and coveralls said. “But I haven’t seen any rain in the forecast.”
“Laurie? Bill?” Callie asked. “What do you think?”
Between them, they decided to risk it and leave the sides open. “Much easier for people to come and go,” they all agreed.
The manager picked a spot to leave the folded side walls in case the weather changed and gave directions on how they should be attached—information that Callie devoutly hoped not to need.
The tent truck drove off, and Callie was admiring the look of it all when she saw Jerry Moore walking up but with empty hands. “Have you brought your sound system?” she asked.
“No way!” he barked, and Callie’s heart sank. “I’ll set it up tomorrow. I’d be out of my mind to leave my equipment here overnight. It’s weatherproof but not theft-proof. I came to look things over and figure out where to put things.”
“Thank you so much,” Callie said while shaking her head. Of course he wouldn’t put his expensive equipment at risk. What was she thinking? “Do you need outlets?”
“Nah, my stuff’s wireless. Top of the line. She’s going to be in there?” he asked, tilting his head toward the gazebo.
“Right. The two-step rise should make Lyssa visible to everyone seated in the tent.”
Moore studied the layout. “You want the spooky music playing beforehand, right?”
“Yes, as people are gathering. Can you also keep it on while she’s reading, but on low?”
“Sure. Want some sound effects while she’s reading, too?”
“That sounds like fun. But you’d better coordinate that with Lyssa.” Callie dug a piece of paper out of her tote, wrote down Lyssa’s number, and handed it to him. “Thank you so much, Mr. Moore, for doing this.”
“Jerry,” he said. “Mr. Moore’s my father.” He laughed. “And it’s no problem. Hey, it’s a group effort, right? For all of us Keepsake Cove people. Um … ” He dropped his voice and moved closer. “Is Dorothy Ashby going to be here?”
“I don’t know,” Callie said, surprised at the question.
“It’s just that, well, Renata got a pretty angry call from her. Seems Dorothy didn’t like some of the things she was told Renata said about her. Really lit into her.”
“That sounds unlike Dorothy, though I’ve heard a few things Renata said, and they weren’t, uh, very nice. The problems between them go way back?”
“Yeah, they definitely locked horns when they were kids. I tell Renata it’s time to grow up and move on, but she can’t let things go. Has to show she’s right no matter what. ’Course, Dorothy’s got her temper, too. I mean, I could hear her screaming through the phone from halfway across the room. That’s why I was hoping she wouldn’t be here tomorrow. It could get nasty.”
Screaming? That was a side of Dorothy that Callie hadn’t seen. Was the pressure getting to her? “I doubt that she’ll come,” she said. “But Renata could also stay home to avoid any problem.”
Jerry rolled his eyes in a look of extreme skepticism and left it at that, returning to his search for spots for his speakers. He wandered off toward a tree with low-hanging branches.
“I don’t blame Dorothy for being furious.”
; Callie turned to see Laurie Hart a few feet behind her. “You heard?”
“Yup. And I’ve heard what Renata’s been spreading around. Nasty stuff.”
“They have a history,” Callie said.
“Oh?”
“Dorothy has had to deal with Renata’s ragging since their school days.”
“Good gosh! Well, it sounds like she’s finally had it. Maybe not the best time, though, what with all the unresolved suspicions swirling around.”
“I’ll see if I can talk to her,” Callie said.
Just then Annie showed up with questions about the concessions stand she’d be helping Brian handle at the event, and a volunteer ran over with a question about the parking area. Callie put her plan to talk to Dorothy on her mental to-do list, below a dozen other things. She took a deep breath and hoped all the items would have a thick black line through them by the time she got to it.
Eighteen
The morning of the book event, Callie called Lyssa from the shop to check that she hadn’t come down with laryngitis or broken out in hives. The author chuckled merrily at the thought.
“A tiny bit nervous, are we? All is well, I promise. Not even a hint of a cough. Don’t worry. I’ve done so many of these that I think I could carry one off through double pneumonia and tornado threats. The books have made it as far as York, Pennsylvania, by the way, so I think we’re good on that score.”
“Great,” Callie said, though a bit weakly. She’d prefer to hear that the books had actually arrived.
“Did I mention I’ll be showing up in a hearse?”
“What? Really?”
“Too much?”
“No, it’s fantastic. The crowd will love it.”
“I got the idea Sunday, on my drive back. Called around and found one that was, well, I can’t say it was free, but it was at least unoccupied.” Lyssa’s laugh rang out again.
Callie grinned, finding her nerves settling during the conversation. A grand entrance like that was going to be so much fun. “Have the driver wait for my call. Once everyone’s settled, I’ll make sure he can pull right up. ”
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