Trash Day Tragedy

by Jamie Blair

  I stood from the table. "We're not going to figure out this mystery sitting here. Let's get out there and start asking questions."

  "Fine," Roy said, "I'll go to the Cornerstone and ask around."

  "I knew you would," I said. The Cornerstone was a restaurant and bar owned by my mother's fiancé, Carl Finch. Roy spent the better part of his days sitting in the bar holding court with this fellow bar flies.

  "Hey now," Roy said, "that's where those trash men go to unwind after a long day lugging around garbage. If anyone has information, it's them."

  "It's not a work day," Johnna pointed out, "and it's half-past noon."

  "All right, but the Pacers play tonight. They'll all be there for that," he said. "I suppose in the meantime, I'll check with Old Dan and Frank at the grist mill and stop at the train depot on the way to chat with Jim."

  "I have a Daughter's meeting at one o'clock," Johnna said. "So, I have to scoot to that, but I'll see what I can find out from them."

  The Daughter's of Historical Metamora were female descendants of the town founders. My mouther-in-law, Irene, was their Grand Poobah. I'd never tell anyone that I thought of her as mouther-in-law instead of mother-in-law, but nothing had ever fit anyone as well as that title fit her.

  "Mia," I said, "are you going to the Daughter's meeting?" As an Ellsworth descendent and Irene's granddaughter, Mia was a legacy into the group of bossy women who ruled the town like a mini-mafia.

  "Do I look like I'm going?" she asked, gazing down at herself. "I forgot all about it."

  "You better hurry up and get ready. Your grandmother will have your hide if you aren't there."

  Mia let out a long, pained sigh and stomped off down the hallway. She'd be seventeen in a few weeks, and even though she'd matured a lot in the past year, she was definitely still a teenager at heart.

  Anna took Logan's hand. My cute little couple. "We'll go ask the kids our age what they know. We'll start at the Soda Pop Shop."

  "Okay, and I'll take Monica to the Soapy Savant and question everyone there. We were on our way to get coffee when this all went down anyway."

  "Post in the group chat if you get any info," Logan said. He'd recently put a group text message together for us to use to get on the same page.

  "I can't figure out how to read your messages on this thing," Johnna said, pulling her ancient flip cell phone from her knitting bag. "And I haven't even begun to think about sending something back."

  "I lost my phone about a month ago," Roy said, "so don't go expecting any chats from me, anyhow."

  I patted Logan's arm in consolation. "I'll call Roy and Johnna if there's news."

  They all headed out and I ran upstairs to collect Monica. "Did I break anything in your box?"

  "No, and it was only old odds and ends anyway. What did your brain trust come up with?"

  "We're going out to talk to people. You and I are going to get that coffee this time. I still need some caffeine, especially now to offset what Roy passes off as booze."

  "I don't want to know." Monica sealed the new box with packing tape and grabbed her handbag. "Let's go solve a murder."

  3

  The Soapy Savant was packed with Steve Longo's bus tour. Ben sat at a table with Andy, who used to be my handyman and was now a cameraman for the local TV news. I left Monica to stand in line for our coffee and made my way over to them.

  "Taking a break, copper?" I asked, kissing my husband on the cheek.

  "We do get donut breaks, you know," he said, grinning, and holding up a scone.

  "Is that orange-cranberry?" I reached over and broke off a tiny bit before he could stop me. Theresa's orange-cranberry scones were my favorite. She and Soapy, whose real name was Pete, owned the place. Soapy was also the mayor.

  "Help yourself. I need to get back to work anyway." Ben broke the scone in half and handed me one of the pieces.

  "Any news on the bones?"

  "I was just giving Andy the run down for the afternoon news," he said. "A few of the smaller bones are missing, but what we do know is that it's a male and the bones are old."

  "That's it? How old was he?"

  "We don't know yet."

  "How did he die?"

  "Cam, we know he was a male and the bones are old. That's it."

  I groaned. "What's happening now? Are you tracking down any leads?"

  "Now we're waiting for a forensic anthropologist to get here to help with the bigger questions. In the meantime, Sheriff Reins and I are searching through old cold cases trying to find something that might be related."

  "That sounds like searching for a needle in a haystack," I said.

  "Without even knowing we're looking for a needle." Ben shook his head and stood from the table. "I hope this forensic specialist can tell us more. I'll be home for dinner." He squeezed my hand and wound his way through the crowded room to the door.

  "How's it going, Andy?"

  "Pretty good, just getting the scoop. We'll air an update this afternoon, and then Ben said he'd go live for me tonight for the late news."

  "Great! Who's reporting on it?" I hoped not Ed Stone who referred to our town as Murder Town during the winter festival. That guy didn't deserve to get an exclusive from Ben.

  "Alexis Hartline. She's the new anchor with Ed."

  "I don't think I've seen her yet."

  "She'll be at your house with me tonight around ten o'clock."

  "Oh, right. I better clean and find a good spot for you to broadcast."

  "Don't worry about that. We'll probably do it in the driveway in front of Metamora One. We don't want to give the impression that the police are at home relaxing while there's an unidentified dead body in the morgue."

  "Andy, he has to sleep sometime!"

  "I know! I didn't mean that like he wasn't doing anything. Not that he has much to do at this point since he has no leads, so he might as well be in here getting coffee and scones."

  I shot him a pointed look.

  "He's doing all he can," he said. "I know."

  "Don't pull an Ed Stone on me tonight, Andy."

  "Tell Alexis, I'm just the guy behind the camera."

  "I'm holding you responsible. You keep your Alexis under control."

  "His Alexis?" Cass said, coming up behind me. Cassandra Platt was Andy's girlfriend and owner of Fiddle Dee Doo Inn. "Are you talking about her again, Andy?"

  He held up his hands in surrender. "I was telling Cam that she's doing a live broadcast with Ben at their house tonight, that's all."

  "I swear, if I hear her name one more time..." Cass folded her arms and inhaled sharply.

  "I'll never say that name again. It's She Who Must Not Be Named from here on out."

  "Except now I know who She Who Must Not Be Named is, but good try." Cass put a hand on my shoulder. "Good seeing you, Cam. I'll talk to you later." She pivoted on her heel and walked toward the door.

  "What was that about?" I asked.

  "She Who Must Not Be Named is young and blond and attractive. Not to me. My eyes are locked on Cass, but every time I mention Alexis, Cass goes nuts."

  "Has she met her? Maybe that would help."

  "No, and I'm afraid of any scenario that has the two of them coming face to face."

  "Well, Cass is a little older than you, so she might be feeling insecure about a new, young, attractive woman in your life. If you introduced them it might take some tension away."

  Andy looked wary, but agreed. "I guess that might work, but if it goes south it's your fault."

  "I accept full responsibility."

  Monica found us and set our coffee on the table. "This place is a zoo." She tossed a package of ground coffee on my lap. "My gift to you. You're welcome."

  "Thanks, Mon."

  "You should've been here this morning to see the pandemonium when the rescue units were at the park," Andy told us. "Everyone in here ran outside, and all of the people who were at the Odd and Strange Carnival ran out of the tent into the road, even the fire eaters
."

  "Fire eaters?" I asked. "I had no idea it was such a production."

  "Yeah, he's talking about doing it every year."

  Monica's forehead creased in confusion. "Is he getting a new assortment of relics every year, or is it going to be the same stuff?"

  Andy shrugged. "Personally, I think he'd do anything for a buck."

  "Who'd do anything for a buck?" Soapy asked, pausing on his way by with a coffee pot. "Need a refill?" he asked Andy, who had regular, black coffee.

  Andy nodded. "Yes, please. I was just telling them about the carnival."

  "Oh, that. Yeah, the Longo's have a long history of being shysters. He's charging ten bucks a pop to get into that tent."

  "There are fire eaters," I said, and couldn't help but snicker.

  "I suppose you're going to be trying to solve this catastrophe?" Soapy asked me, taking a second to make eye contact between darting glances at empty coffee mugs at the tables around us.

  "We have a good track record. Did you hear anything last night that might help us figure this out?"

  "It's hard to say," he said turning to the table to my right. "Those raccoons make so much racket."

  Soapy and Theresa lived above their shop, which was right across the canal from the park. "You heard something though?"

  "No. Wish I could tell you more."

  "That's okay. Someone had to see or hear something."

  "True enough." He gave us a farewell by raising his coffee pot, and went on refilling customers cups. He was usually more talkative, but this crowd had him on his toes.

  "I'm actually pretty curious about the carnival," Monica said. "Maybe you should get some footage in case it becomes a local hit," she told Andy.

  "Maybe I should," he said. "I was thinking about wandering over there."

  "Let's all go," I said. "I've never seen live fire eaters before."

  The tent was huge, and ratty. It looked ancient like all of the novelties on display. "This is quite the set up, Steve," I said gesturing around us at the tent.

  He looked frazzled. I could imagine what kind of morning he'd had, opening his side show to the sound of sirens and being upstaged by a mystery skeleton found in the garbage can. "It belonged to my great-grandfather," he said. "He used to set this up every summer. I thought I'd resurrect the tradition."

  "There's a lot of buzz about it around town," Monica said.

  "Thanks, I hope everybody enjoys it." He gave us half of his attention while his eyes scanned the patrons. "Excuse me," he said, and wandered off.

  "No wonder he wanted Ben's help," Monica said. "His mind's all over the place."

  Andy checked his watch. "The Whitewater train is about to pull into town, so he's probably thinking about the next rush of people he'll get in here."

  "Hopefully, they'll make up for any lost business from this morning," I said. "It looks like he's put a lot of work into putting this together."

  "Wonder why he didn't ask for your help," Monica said. "You put things like this together for a living."

  Working for Soapy putting together town events was no easy task, but I'd gotten much better at it then when I started. "Maybe he wanted to do it himself, prove that he could do it like his grandfather."

  We wandered around, perusing the artifacts and old photos and stopped at a display of shrunken heads. "You don't think those are real?" I asked, leaning in closer to inspect them.

  "I wouldn't know a real one from a fake one," Andy said.

  Monica agreed and shivered. "They look real enough though."

  Moving on, we came across some voodoo dolls, a Mayan death rattle, and an Aztec death whistle. "Lots of death things," I said. "I thought all of this had some relation to Metamora."

  "Not all of it," Andy said. "I think just that section over there." He pointed across the tent to the hanging signs that read, Metamora's Past Revealed!

  "I didn't realize Metamora's past has been hidden," I said, heading that direction.

  On an ancient table that looked like it crossed the ocean on the Mayflower, an engraved tablet read: Joseph Longo arrived in Metamora, Indiana in 1902 with his traveling circus. The townspeople were amazed with his troupe of acrobats, sword-swallowers, and jugglers. In addition to his performers, Longo procured a menagerie of freaks, such as, the siamese twins, Pip and Pong, the dwarf, Hilda, and the dog man, Clawtooth.

  "Enjoying yourselves?" Steve asked, swooping back up behind us.

  "Just reading about your great-grandfather," I said. "He must've been quite the showman."

  "He knew how to put on a show, but wasn't a showman himself. He stayed behind the scenes, pulling the strings."

  "Huh. Well, hey, did you see or hear anything lately that might be related to the body we found in the trash can this morning?" I had to pin him down before he scuttled away again after his patrons.

  "That was something," he said. "No. I can't say I have any information about it."

  "If you think of anything, will you let me know?"

  "Absolutely." He shot us each a quick smile and took off again.

  "Struck out again," Monica said.

  I turned back to the display on Joseph Longo and gazed at the black and white photo of his circus. Above the entrance to the bigtop tent a sign read J.A. Longo & Friends Circus. "I think we're standing in this tent," I said, glancing around us at the canvas walls and ceiling.

  Monica bent in to get a better look at the photo. "I think you're right. Look at those people. That guy's in a cage!" She pointed to the freak show outside the tent in the picture.

  "It was very different times," I said, taking in the way they displayed human beings who most likely had no other way to make a living. "I hope he at least payed them well."

  "I need to get going back to the station," Andy said.

  "We'll walk out with you." I couldn't wait to get to the exit. I'd had enough odd and strange for one day.

  "Where to next?" Monica asked as my cell phone chirped with a text.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and read the text from Irene. "Irene's. The Daughter's meeting is over, and she wants to talk to me about something."

  "Sounds curious."

  Where my mouther-in-law was concerned, curiosity did what it does best... unless you happen to be Spook.

  4

  Irene and Stewart lived in Brookville, the neighboring town. Spinning on top of their brick 1990's two-story was the weathervane from Ellsworth house. Even though Irene gave the family's ancestral home to Ben, she kept taking bits and pieces of it with her. Eventually, she'd have the entire house reconstructed in her backyard.

  The front door opened on a breeze of lilac scented lotion. Irene stood there in her trademark pink skirt and jacket, her platinum blond bob perfectly coiffed, and her gray and white Devon Rex, Ellsworth, in her arms. She babied Ellsworth worse than Mia, and I didn't think that was possible. He was a sweet cat, though, even if he did look a little bit like an alien.

  "Hello, Irene," I said. "What did you need to see me about?"

  "Come in! We can't talk on the doorstep."

  Inside, Mia sat on the couch scrolling through her phone. I hoped this wasn't about her. If she did something or said something against the Daughter's, I'd be blamed. Ever since I turned down their invitation to join their merry little band, I'd been on their list, and not the good list.

  "Can Steph pick me up here?" Mia asked me. "We want to go to a movie."

  "As long as you're home by your curfew," I said.

  "I will be." Her thumbs moved one hundred miles a minute over her phone screen typing a message to Steph.

  "Want a cup of coffee, Cam?" Irene asked, leading me into the kitchen.

  "No thanks. I had one a little while ago at Soapy's."

  She poured herself a cup, and gestured for me to sit down at the table. "As you know, Stewart and I are going to Florida next week, and I thought--"

  "Wait! You're going to Florida next week?"

  "Didn't Ben or Mia tell you?"


  "No."

  "Well, I wonder why?" She shrugged it off. "Anyway, we're going to stay in a time share we're thinking of buying. It's right on the water in St. Petersburg." She took a sip of her coffee. "We were hoping Fiona and Jim would buy in with us, but they're putting that pool in and it costs a fortune. I guess the good part about that is I'll have somewhere to swim and lay out."

  "Don't you belong to a country club?"

  "Yes... and?" She wasn't getting my point.

  "Can't you swim and lay out there?"

  "Not without tanning first. Heavens! Can you imagine? I'd be like a ghost out there."

  "Right. Of course. I don't know what I was thinking."

  "Speaking of the club, I'm getting Mia a membership. She needs to start playing tennis or golf. She's well beyond the age when she should be starting, but she's a talented girl, so I have faith she'll pick it up fast."

  "Does she want to play tennis or golf?"

  She waved a hand at me and laughed. "Do any of us, really?"

  I honestly had no idea. I'd never done either, at least not for real. In college, a friend and I would go and hit tennis balls around with thrift store rackets at the park. We were terrible. Balls we hit over the fence ricocheted off cars in the parking lot and picnic tables. We were a pubic menace.

  "If you can get her to play, more power to you," I said. It was no skin off my nose either way.

  "Back to our trip next week," she said. "Can you care for Ellsworth while we're away? I'd leave him with Fiona, but she's been so busy with the train depot now that the winter is over, she's never home."

  "Did you forget that we have five dogs?" I asked her, certain she'd lost her mind this time. "I don't think Ellsworth would be very happy at our house."

  "Ellsworth happens to be very fond of dogs," she said. "Devon Rex's are much like dogs personality-wise."

  Desperation, that was what this was. "I'll talk to Ben and see what he thinks."

  "I already have. He said if it's okay with you, it's fine with him."