Trash Day Tragedy

by Jamie Blair

  As was written on the book, it was a journal, a collection of life changing events and not a diary of daily activities. They read almost like a memoir.

  Estelle Brooks was a fascinating woman who lived a scandalous life. She married Paul Brooks when she was only sixteen. She wasn't given a choice. Her mother died when she was a baby, and Estelle's father handed her off to his partner's much older son, Paul. He was twenty-eight and had been married once already with two children, one seven, and the other four. Paul's first wife died in childbirth along with their third child. Estelle raised his two kids, the oldest of whom was Fiona's grandfather.

  Like the information we read in Read and Re-read, there was an entry on the Whitewater train robbery. It had to have been the most interesting thing to happen in Metamora, well, ever, so it wasn't surprising that Estelle wrote about it. What was surprising was finding out she had an affair with the robber after Joseph Longo bailed him out and he began working at the circus. His name was Dalton Stokes. Estelle wrote on and on about his dangerous good looks, and how exciting and unpredictable he was. She wondered about Paul and what he would do if he ever found out. She didn't believe he'd care as much about her being disloyal as his reputation being tarnished.

  Even that far back family name and pride was the most important thing. Of course it wouldn't be great for a man's pride to have his wife leave him for the man who got paid to be the Pharaoh's Cursed Mummy at the circus. According to Estelle, Dalton's tall, lanky form gave Joseph the idea of making him a mummy. He even ordered an elaborate sarcophagus to display him in.

  I suppose taking a nap in a fancy coffin for a living wouldn't be too bad. Dalton probably had to jump up and scare people or something, though, to make the exhibit freak show worthy.

  Speaking of freak show, ever since I turned forty my knee played tricks on me every time it rained, and now my back was out of whack. I found a stray hair on my chin the other day. Not a normal hair, a thick black one sticking straight out under there. I got a rash on my cheek that took months to go away, and my eyes were getting blurry around the edges when I read. It seemed like my body was trying out something new all the time these days.

  Ellsworth tore into the room, zooming to the opposite side where he launched up onto the back of the wingback chair and hissed.

  "What on earth is your problem?" I asked him. Then Spook sauntered into the room like he owned the place.

  "Oh, it's you. You do realize Ellsworth is an invited guest and you're just someone who crashes in unannounced?"

  He pounced up onto the couch and snuggled in beside me, the whole while glaring alien-green dagger eyes across the family room at Ellsworth.

  Ellsworth growled and bolted from the room, his paws padding at light speed down the hall and up the stairs.

  "That was rude," I told Spook. "The dogs are used to your antics, but he's a new kid here and only staying for a week."

  I picked him up and placed him on the floor. "Go make nice. Go!" I shooed him off. He raised his nose in the air and pranced away, disappearing through the kitchen.

  A glance at the clock told me it was a quarter till eight in the morning. I had to be at the church in fifteen minutes to meet Johnna and Roy. Anna and Logan caught up with us after school on weekdays. We were supposed to be starting our plans for the town's Spring Fling that was tentatively on the books for next month. In light of the investigation going on, I knew any planning was out the window and we'd spend our time trying to solve this mystery.

  Ben skidded into he kitchen in his socks, reminding me of Tom Cruise in Risky Business, except Ben had his pants on. "Have you seen my shoes? And good morning, and goodbye as soon as I get those shoes. I'm late. I didn't set the alarm. I thought you'd come upstairs last night."

  I was in charge of the alarm clock. I guess we knew what happened when he was left to his own devices.

  "I was so engrossed in reading that I didn't realize what time it was."

  Mia trudged into the room with her jacket on and her backpack slung over her shoulder. She dropped Ben's shoes on the floor. "There. Now come on! I have to get to school!"

  "That black cat's in the house," Ben said, shoving his feet in his shoes.

  "Spook," I said.

  "It's a good thing I wasted time putting screening on the outside of the attic vent. He must've clawed his way right through. The attic door was cracked, so he got it open to get into the house."

  "He's a magic cat," I said. "There's no stopping magic cats."

  "Magic cat or not, those raccoons have free access again. I'll have to try something stronger like cement." He frowned and kissed my cheek. "These animals are going to be the death of me."

  "You're being dramatic." I kissed him on the lips and pushed him toward the door. "Now get out of here. You're making me late."

  I missed Monica. She made sure we had coffee and the dogs were fed. She made the whole process run smoother than I could muster without her. Mornings weren't my strong suit.

  With Mia and Ben out to start their day, I filled Ellsworth's bowls as directed by Irene's instruction binder, and poured some kibble into Liam's. I gave him a small helping of wet food in the evening, but he got his crunchies in the morning. "Liam!" I shouted. "Ellsworth! Breakfast, guys!"

  I listened for them to run down the stairs, but heard nothing.

  "Liam? Ellsworth? Spook?" Maybe the sneaky one would want some food.

  No barking, no meowing, hissing, or growling. No pitter-patter of little paws. That could only mean one thing. They were into something.

  I hustled down the hall, grabbed the newel post and stormed up the steps. "Liam!"

  At the top of the stairs, I heard rustling coming from behind the attic door. Ben must've closed it before coming down. I stopped in front of it and listened. What if the shuffling I heard was raccoons and not Liam and Ellsworth?

  "Liam?" I shouted. "Ellsworth?"

  Little hops down the steps sounded from behind the door, then a whine and scratching to be let out. "Liam," I said, opening the door. "What were you--what do you have?"

  He bolted between my legs and into Mia's bedroom. I chased after him, and dove to all fours trying to catch his back legs as they disappeared beneath the bedskirt.

  "Out from under the bed, mister!" I called, but he was hunkered in up by the headboard against the wall. Shoe boxes, books, and a couple suitcases stuffed under the bed blocked my reach. He gnawed on something, growling at me possessively, as if to tell me I've been warned not to try and take it from him.

  "Fine, keep it," I said, giving up. I sat back on my knees just in time for Ellsworth to dash by me and duck under the bed with Liam. They went from enemies to co-conspirators in less than twenty-four hours.

  Back out in the hall, I made sure the attic door was closed tight. I was already late to work, there was no time to go see what kind of mess the raccoons made up there. It would keep.

  I checked the time on the alarm clock on my nightstand. It was a few minutes past eight. Still wearing my clothes from last night, I needed some time to freshen up. I'd get my cell phone downstairs and let Roy and Johnna know I'd be late.

  Before I could reach the coffee table in the family room where I'd placed my cell phone the night before, the land line rang. I answered it in the kitchen. "Hello?"

  "It's Roy. The raccoons have taken over the church basement."

  "Oh, good gravy. I'm running late anyway. Let me get back in touch with you later and we'll figure out where to work. Is Johnna with you?"

  "Right here," he said.

  "Okay, let her know, too."

  "Ten-four. Over and out."

  Before I could hang up, my other line beeped and I switched over. "Hello?"

  "Cameron Cripps Hayman, consider yourself officially notified by the Daughters of Metamora that you are the defendant in a town tribunal to be held at 2:00 PM today at the Soapy Savant."

  "Irene? Aren't you in Florida?"

  "I am. Failure to appear will result in an autom
atic guilty plea to be entered on behalf of the defendant and significant fines and punishments to be incurred on behalf of same."

  "Tribunal? The Daughter's can hold a tribunal?" I almost burst in a fit of laughter. "You can't be serious."

  "This is a very serious matter. I'll be attending via video call."

  "You? On a video call? How's that going to work?" Irene was on the same level as Johnna when it came to technology.

  "You will have a chance to plead your case and may bring representation."

  "For what? What did I do now?"

  "You're charged with slanderous speech and defamation of character against your neighbor and Daughter of Historical Metamora, Fiona Stein."

  "Slanderous speech...Fiona...?"

  "You accused her of murder."

  Johnna! It had to be Johnna who blabbed. She got kicked out of the library and the cops called on her at Schoolhouse Antiques. To top if off, she flapped her gums to Fiona.

  "Two o'clock?" I asked, resigned to the fact that I'd been busted by the Daughter's yet again.

  "Yes. Be on time."

  She hung up.

  On the stairs, Ellsworth peered through the banisters at me. "Your mom's a meanie," I told him. He put his paw through and batted at me, then ran back upstairs.

  I hadn't even changed my clothes yet and this day had already gone to the dogs. Cats. Raccoons. All of them could have it.

  12

  I found my mom at Monica's house. They were painting the kitchen a sunny yellow. The window was open, and even if it was a little chilly, the birds were chirping and the scent of fresh grass and budding leaves filled the air. Isobel lay beside the refrigerator--her old favorite spot when she was at my house--and supervised.

  "You're not working today?" Mom asked. She stood on a kitchen chair in her jean skirt and espadrilles, a bandana wrapped around her hair, trimming above the doorway.

  "There's a real chance I'll go to jail for strangling Johnna if I see her today," I said. I told them about Irene's call.

  "Do you really think Fiona's behind the bones?" Monica asked.

  "I don't know. She's the best suspect I have at the moment." I didn't tell them about Soapy and I wouldn't unless I had more solid proof that he had something to do with it.

  I caught them up on the adventures of Estelle Brooks.

  "So nothing in there about a murder or missing person in town?" Monica asked, dipping her roller in the paint pan.

  "Not that I've come across yet, except Fiona might be the illegitimate child of a circus mummy. We'll have to see where this journal leads."

  "No wonder she's bringing you up in front of the tribunal," Mom said. "I'm sure she'd do anything to keep that from coming out."

  "Tribunal," Monica said, snorting. "Who do those old ladies think they are? They don't have any real legal power. It's not like they can have you arrested if you don't show up."

  I shook my head. "They probably got some special legal status back in the 1800's that they still use to sentence people to cruel and unusual punishment."

  "What can we do to help?" Mom asked, handing me her brush to hold while she climbed down from the chair.

  "Be my lawyer," I told her. "I can have representation."

  "I'm not a lawyer," she said, "but I do know how to spin a story. I suppose I could help."

  My mom worked in public relations before she moved to Metamora and became the future queen of Carl Finch's Hilltop Castle. He'd built a real castle on the highest hill in town. My mother always thought she was queen of the world, now she really would be. Queen of Carl's world at least.

  "How can you spin this?" I asked. "I'm sure Johnna told her I thought the bones were dug up in her yard and she dumped them in the trash in the park to save face."

  Mom tapped her lip with a long fingernail. "Let me come up with a plan. How long do we have?"

  "Four hours."

  "That's more than enough time." She waved me toward the paint can. "Help your sister. I have brainstorming to do."

  While I painted, doing my best to stay away from Isobel who snapped at my feet if I got to close, Mom chattered on her phone and scribbled on a notepad. Before long, the doorbell rang and she rushed to answer it. The voices I heard come through the dining room toward the kitchen didn't encourage me.

  "Cameron Cripps Hayman, what have you gotten into this time?" Roy asked. "That mother-in-law of yours is a viper. You need to be more careful."

  How did these two always track me down? I cut my eyes to Johnna, who stood beside him. "I need to watch who I tell my thoughts too," I said. "Some people can't keep anything to herself."

  Roy side-eyed Johnna. "What do you have to say about that?" he asked her.

  "I wanted to know if she did it, so I asked," she said, shrugging. "I ran into her last night at the Briar Bird Inn. I went to dinner with Elaina and Sue and she and Jim were there. We got to talking and next thing you know..."

  "Your trap opened and it all came out," Roy said. "Now we're all in for it. If you think Cameron's the only one they'll pin this on, you're wrong. All those cronies of yours will be watchin' us like hawks."

  "I didn't bring anybody's name into it," Johnna said. "Not even Cameron. They must have figured if I was asking then it was for the Action Agency, and Cameron's the boss."

  "Speculation, your Honor!" Roy shouted, raising his finger in the air.

  "Maybe you should represent Cam," Mom said, patting him on the shoulder. "That sounds like a good defense to me. If she didn't actually hear the accusation come from Cam's mouth, then it's hearsay."

  "That's right!" Roy shouted, jamming his finger into the air again, overcome by enthusiasm. "I wanted to be a lawyer before the war. Always thought I'd be good at it."

  "You can be on my counsel team," Mom told him. "Let's sit and go over the plan."

  Roy and Mom, now there was a team if ever I saw one. Neither one had any idea what they were doing, but both could talk a good game. It was pretend lawyering for a pretend court. They always say fight fire with fire. I supposed this qualified as an inferno. I could already picture my life up in flames.

  Two o'clock found me with a latte in my hand, Roy on my left, and Mom on my right, sitting in the closed-to-the-public front room of the Soapy Savant. The Daughters had arranged a head table, like we were at a wedding, where Irene's face filled a laptop screen with Fiona sitting in the chair behind the computer. Fiona's face lurked overtop of Irene's like some two-headed monster out for blood.

  They sat me in a chair in the center of the room, my back to Irene and Fiona, facing my jury of Daughters, most of whom were my good friends. Cass caught my attention and rolled her eyes. So dumb, she mouthed. Elaina Nelson, or Grandma Diggity as she called herself since becoming Monica's silent partner in Dog Diggity, flitted around in her trademark polka dotted dress refilling coffee from one of Soapy's pots. Betty, my neighbor who owned Grandma's Cookie Cutter, passed Elaina a cookie that she hurried over to me.

  "From Betty," Grandma Diggity said. "Need a warm up?" She held the pot up ready to pour.

  "No, thank you," I said, and she moved on to Mom, admiring her engagement ring.

  The cookie was oatmeal butterscotch chip, one of my many favorites of Betty's. I gave her a big smile in way of thanks and broke off a piece hoping some sugar would calm my nerves.

  Cass's mother, Judy, of the Briar Bird Inn, was there, along with Sue Nelson and her daughter Lianne, Stephanie's older sister. Steph and Mia were in school, and I'm sure they'd get a big laugh out of this mock trial. I only hoped it was over before they got out of class in about twenty minutes.

  Soapy opened the door and stepped in, quickly taking a seat in the back corner of the room. As the mayor, he had the right to sit in on such matters.

  "Sister Sergeant At Arms, please call this meeting to order," Irene said from her screen. Her voice sounded distant and tinny.

  Fiona stood and took roll, then called the meeting to order.

  Irene cleared her throat. "This t
ribunal has been called today to determine the guilt or innocence of Cameron Cripps Hayman accused of slanderous speech and defamation of character against our sister Daughter, Fiona Stein."

  When they said sister Daughter it killed me every time. I put a hand in front of my mouth to hide the snicker that threatened to erupt. Next to me, Roy snored. He'd fallen asleep. I scooted my foot over and nudged him. "Roy," I whispered. "Roy!"

  He let out an enormous coughing, snorting, snore, sounding like he was choking. "What happened?" He darted his eyes around the room, like he was wondering where he was and how he ended up there.

  "Mr. Lancaster," Irene said, in her most hoity-toity tone, "this is an official town tribunal. If you aren't able to behave appropriately, please excuse yourself from the room."

  "I apologize, your Irene, Honor, Sister, Daughter, um... woman person on the throne there." Roy sat up straight and tugged on the lapels of his old, ratty navy blue blazer that he wore every day of his life.

  In the corner, Soapy rubbed his mustache to hide his grin. Cass bit her lip to stop smiling.

  Irene took a deep breath. "I take it you are Cameron's counsel?"

  "I am," he said.

  Mom stood and faced the jury. "He's my assistant counsel," she said. "I'd like to ask the court for evidence of the charges against my client, as we believe it's hearsay and file a motion for a dismissal of the charges."

  "What she said," Roy said, jabbing his thumb toward Mom. "I second that motion."

  "You don't have to second it," Mom said, gritting her teeth.

  "Overruled," Irene said. "The tribunal doesn't have to entertain your motions."

  Mom swung around facing Irene, her hands hitting her hips. "Madame, you are aware of the constitutional rights of every man, woman, and child is this great nation, are you not? Rights which cannot be usurped by a kangaroo tribunal called by a private, civic, organization. Before my client entertains this farce any farther, we demand to know by what authority you called us here today."