Canal Days Calamity

by Jamie M. Blair

  “What?” I said. “You don’t like it there?”

  “Not me. I don’t care where it is as long as those bees aren’t destroying our house anymore.”

  “Okay, then if not you, who? Irene?”

  He shrugged. “Let’s not talk about this right now,” he whispered, slyly tilting his head toward Quinn and Monica.

  I gave him a firm nod. We wouldn’t fight around the two of them. Their budding relationship didn’t need to be wilted by an old married couple like us arguing about Irene for the millionth time. Besides, nothing ever came from our debates. Irene would always be his mother, she would always be a bully, and she would always have the final say so when it came to Ellsworth House.

  Unless …“I have to make a quick phone call before we go to dinner,” I said. “Be right back.”

  I darted up the stairs, cringing at the sharp pain in my knee, and closed myself in my bedroom. After emptying most of the contents of my bag onto my bed, I found the business card I was searching for and dialed the number.

  “Hello, this is Arnie Rutherford.”

  “Hi, Mr. Rutherford. This is Cameron Cripps-Hayman from Ellsworth House. I was wondering if you were available to meet me tomorrow morning at the Soapy Savant. We can talk about your client’s offer over coffee.”

  “I’m so glad to hear from you, Cameron. How does nine o’clock sound?”

  “Sounds perfect. I’ll see you then.”

  I hung up feeling like I had a leg to stand on with my mother-in-law. I had zero intention of selling my house, but she didn’t need to know that. Besides, I had to find a way to get my friends out of jail by pinning the murder on someone else, like Arnie.

  ∞

  The Briar Bird Inn dining room wasn’t too busy on a Tuesday evening, so we sat right down. Judy joined us, indulging our table with an appetizer platter of cheese and vegetables on the house. “Ready for Canal Days?” I asked her.

  “I’ve been ready. I’ve got bottles of my homemade salad dressings and shakers of my secret seasoning blends all packaged and ready to sell. How about you two?” she asked Monica and me.

  Monica put on a brave face even though I knew the thought of baking all of those dog treats by Friday sent her into panic mode. “We’re getting there,” she said.

  Quinn put an arm around her shoulder. “It’s only a matter of which day she’ll sell out.”

  It was a great way of looking at it, and it made Monica smile. “Judy’s the one who will be sold out fast,” she said. “Wait until you try her white French dressing.”

  “A house specialty,” Judy said, and picked up a celery stick and crunched down on it. “Irene said the Daughters are having a display booth this year instead of a table. She’s ordered posters to pin on the walls and skirting for around the front.”

  “Good gravy,” I mumbled.

  They all stared at me.

  “I only found out about the booths today. Andy was supposed to build them, but seeing as how he’s being detained by Brookville’s finest …”

  “Oh, she won’t be happy about not having a booth,” Judy said, grimacing.

  “And we all know an unhappy Irene is an unhappy everyone else in town,” I said, not even trying to tamper my annoyance. “It’s not like I can bust Andy out of jail.”

  “I’ll deal with it,” Ben said. “I’ll get with Soapy and see what needs done. You can’t be expected to take on everything with two high school kids and Roy and Johnna. That’s not exactly a dream team.”

  “Hey, now!” I said, ready to defend my agency members. “They each bring their own strengths to the table.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, if you’re ever in a drinking contest, Roy’s your man.”

  “Yeah, well, you never know.” At the moment I hoped he was my man to bust a gambling ring.

  “Is your mother dating Carl Finch?” Judy asked.

  I followed her stare to the front of the dining room, where a hostess was seating Mom and Carl. They caught sight of us, waved, and headed our direction.

  “Dating is a strong word,” I said. “She’s barely divorced and only here through the weekend.”

  “Divorced?” Ben said. “Dating Carl?”

  “It was news to me, too,” I said, resisting the urge to shoot Monica a glare.

  “The gang’s all here,” Carl said, shaking Ben’s hand and patting my shoulder.

  “Too bad we don’t have any seats left at our table,” I said, and felt Monica’s toe collide with my shin.

  “Nonsense.” Judy got up and patted her chair. “Angela, sit here, and I’ll pull up another chair for Carl.”

  “I’ll get it, Judy,” Carl said. “Just point me in the right direction.”

  As he dragged one of the dining chairs over from a nearby table, Ben took my hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “This has to be hard for you.”

  “It is. I mean, it will be once the world slows down enough for me to really process it.”

  “How’s that K9 training coming along with Ben’s ruffian?” Carl asked Quinn, settling himself in next to Mom.

  “It’ll be a long process, but Brutus is already showing promise.”

  “How long?” Monica asked. I detected a hint of excitement in her tone. She would want Quinn here as long as he could possibly stay.

  “That’s yet to be determined,” he said.

  “Cameron,” Mom said, “why on earth didn’t you have Old Dan relocate that hive out into the woods somewhere instead of your front yard?”

  “He’s not exactly a young man, Mom, or a bee relocation expert. Why does everyone keep bringing up the bees in my yard? Is there a problem with the bees in my yard?”

  Everyone was staring at me. Whether it was Mom and Carl, or the stress of so much to still do before Canal Days began, or sitting next to Ben when our relationship was still off kilter and the two other couples at the table where clearly enamored with their new partners, I was overwhelmed and ready to snap.

  “Excuse me,” I said, getting up. I made my way out of the dining room and into the ladies’ room.

  Standing in front of the sink, I took a good look at myself in the mirror. I was exhausted and looked it. Dark, puffy circles ringed my eyes, my hair hadn’t been styled in at least a week and hung lank just past my double chin with new gray strands standing out like lightning in the dark. Thanks to stress, lack of exercise, and terrible eating habits, I’d gained another five pounds.

  I needed to get myself together. I needed to find a way to wrangle all the crazy people and animals in my life into shape so I could be, too. I needed the people in this town to stop getting murdered so my friends would stay out of jail.

  My cell phone rang from the now-more-shallow-than-before depths of my handbag. I took a deep breath and dug in. Just because a bag has pockets for organization doesn’t mean you can find things in it. If I didn’t know which pocket I put something in, how did that make me more organized?

  I pulled out a rectangular packet of travel tissues, cellophane wrapped cheese and peanut butter crackers, and a mini-bible Pastor Stroup gave me before upending my purse and dumping everything out on the vanity.

  My cell phone clattered into the sink still ringing. I picked it up and saw Roy’s name on the display. Roy had never once called me. Something was going on.

  “Roy?”

  “How are your crysanthemums growing?” he asked.

  I pulled the phone back and checked the display again to make sure I’d read it correctly. It still said Roy. “My chrysanthemums?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, sounding stiff and, well, odder than normal. “They’re amaryllis, aren’t they?”

  “Amaryllis? Roy, what in the world?”

  “Poinsettia? I don’t know anymore plant names! Code word, woman! Code word!”

  “Oh! You’re in trouble! Where
are you?”

  His voice came back to me muffled. Someone else was there, too—another man. They were arguing. Then there was a thud, and the sound of a trumpet.

  A trumpet signaling the start of a race.

  “Roy!” I shouted into the phone. “Roy!”

  It was no use. He was gone.

  And he was in trouble.

  • Eleven •

  Ben would never let me out of the Briar Bird if he knew what I was up to. I peeked out the ladies’ room door. He sat at our table facing me. If I tried to sneak out, there was no way he wouldn’t catch me.

  I let the door close and paced back and forth trying to come up with a plan. Cass! If she was around, she’d distract him for me. I sent her a quick text telling her I was in the Briar Bird restroom and needed her help. Two seconds later she was pushing through the door wiping her hands on an apron.

  “That was fast!” I said, shoving my belongings back into my purse.

  “I was in the kitchen helping out my mom.”

  “And you didn’t come out to the dining room and say hello?”

  “I didn’t even know you were here until now! You ordered the paprikash, didn’t you? You love Mom’s paprikash.”

  “Yes, and I’m not going to get to eat it. Listen, Roy’s in trouble. I need get out of here without Ben seeing me. I need a distraction.”

  She grabbed my upper arms. “Does this have to do with Andy? Did he find out something?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. All I know is that he’s at the horse track—well, I think. I need to get to Shelbyville quick.”

  “That’s an hour drive, Cam. Nothing fast about it.”

  “Oh yeah. I need to borrow your car, too.”

  “Whatever you need if it could help Andy.” She tossed me her keys. “Be careful. I’ve got you covered. Wait until you hear clucking, then run for it.”

  “Clucking?”

  She was already out the door. I could only imagine what she had planned.

  I kept my ears alert, waiting for the signal. It seemed to take forever. What if Roy was in danger? Big, life-threatening danger? I dragged him into his. If anything happened to him, it was on me.

  I heard loud shuffling, like chairs being moved around rapidly, then Mom yelled, “Chickens!”

  “Whoa!” Ben shouted.

  “They’re everywhere!” Monica’s voice was almost drowned out by the clucking and bawking of chickens.

  I darted from the bathroom, glancing into the dining room as I hit the front door. All shapes and sizes of head-bobbing poultry ran under tables, between chairs, and skirted between the legs of my shocked family and friends. There must’ve been a few dozen of them.

  “Cass!” Judy yelled, as Cass frantically waved her apron toward the chickens looking for all the world like she was trying to wrangle them toward the back door that stood open, but only managing to send whirls of feathers into the air like a spontaneous pillow fight had broken out in the dining room.

  “I left the pen open!” Cass shouted. “Sorry!” She dared a glance in my direction and winked.

  Mom hopped up on her chair and held on to Carl’s shoulders for dear life. Ben waddled around, hunched over, trying to herd chickens. Quinn was attempting to capture one by tossing his linen napkin over its head, while Monica used the bread crumb trail method.

  Racing to Cass’s car, I couldn’t stop laughing. The image of my family wrangling chickens in the Briar Bird dining room would stick with me forever. I wish I had a photo for Christmas cards. I could Photoshop little Santa hats on the chickens.

  I hopped behind the wheel of Cass’s blue Ford Taurus and sped down the street toward Route 52 and Shelbyville.

  ∞

  My phone rang about a hundred times on the way to Shelbyville. I tried not to look at the display, but couldn’t resist. Most of the time it was Ben. I know Cass had to tell them something about my disappearance. She wouldn’t let them think I’d been abducted or that I ran off—well, technically I did run off, but not forever. Just for a couple hours. Did they know that, though? Where did they think I went?

  Guilt was a powerful motivator. It had me on the road to find Roy, and it made me answer the phone the next time it rang. Thinking it was Ben again, I put my cell on speaker and said, “I swear, the chickens weren’t my idea!”

  “Chickens?” Johnna said. “I hadn’t thought of chicken cozies, but I suppose it must get chilly in their pens during the winter.”

  “Wait. What?” She’d already lost me.

  “The dog sweaters I’m knitting for Monica. I figure I can whip some up for chickens too if you think people will buy them.”

  “Honestly, I have no idea. Did you need something, Johnna? I’m kind of busy.”

  “You’re kind of busy saving Roy’s behind, aren’t ya? He left a message on my answering machine blabbering about my echinacea. The old fart’s brain is so saturated in booze, he’d never remember the code work is rhododendron. When I called you and didn’t get an answer, I tried Monica. She told me you disappeared from the Briar Bird, so I put two and two together and got you running off to save that old drunk’s hide.”

  “We need a new code word.” I wasn’t a drunk and couldn’t remember rhododendron.

  “I’ll think on it. Anyway, I’ve activated the troops. Logan and Anna are on their way to pick me up. Where are we headed?”

  “No, no, no. No way. I can’t have them in danger!”

  “We’ll stay in the shadows. Incognito.”

  “No, Johnna. I can’t bring you guys into this. I don’t know what I’m facing.”

  “Chances are that Cass was at the Briar Bird tonight. I figure she knows something about where you’re headed, and you know I can wheedle it out of her.”

  “You’re a stubborn old woman, you know that?”

  She laughed, but it sounded more like a witch’s cackle.

  “Fine. I heard a trumpet. I think he’s at the horse track in Shelbyville.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so to begin with? I’ll call my pal Gordie and see what he knows.”

  “Who’s Gordie?”

  “A bookie. He works the horse races. If you want to make any money at the track, you go to Gordie.”

  I didn’t want to know how Johnna was pals with a bookie, I was just glad she knew someone who might be able to help us out. “Okay, give him a call and call me right back. And keep Anna and Logan out of this!”

  “Over and out,” she said, leaving me wondering if she’d keep my two high schoolers out of this mess.

  My jaunt west on 52 to Interstate 74 only took me forty-five minutes. Signs led me right to the Indiana Grand.

  I parked in the lot and walked past the fountains to the bright lights of the building entrance. Inside, slot machines blinked and buzzed, and televisions aired the race happening on the track outside.

  My phone rang. “Johnna? What did you find out?”

  “Gordie’s waiting for you at the end of the bar. He thinks he’s spotted our lost lamb.”

  “I’m headed to the bar now. I can handle this, so no need for backup, okay?”

  “Logan reminded me that he and Anna weren’t old enough to get in, so we’re setting up headquarters here at my house. We’ll check in at 20:15.”

  I didn’t know military time off hand and didn’t want to do any math to figure it out, so I used her line from our last conversation. “Over and out.”

  Strolling through the casino, I watched the patrons load up slot machines with coins, lay down hard-earned cash on blackjack tables, and pile red and black chips on squares at the roulette tables. I’d gambled before, but limited myself to an amount I was comfortable betting. I never understood the lure of losing all of your money, but I knew so many people got in over their heads gambling. It could become an addiction, and if you owed the wrong person, it c
ould be a very dangerous addiction.

  Roy, who had an addiction problem already, shouldn’t be anywhere near this place. How had I not thought this through?

  I hurried to the bar and kept right on walking until I reached the end. A heavy man in his fifties wearing a newsboy-style cap sat on the end stool sipping a glass of something amber colored. “Gordie?” I asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. Are you Johnna’s friend?”

  I nodded. “Cameron. Nice to meet you.”

  He shook my hand. “I hear you’re looking for a friend?”

  “Yes. I think he called me from here and implied that he was in trouble. His name is Roy Lancaster.”

  A sly grin crossed Gordie’s lips. “I know the guy. Come with me.”

  He slid off of his stool and waddled across the casino floor. I followed in his wake, watching as he said hello and waved to several people. Gordie was the king of this world. Of course he’d know anyone new who entered his dominion.

  He pushed through a door and held it open for me. We exited to the world of horse racing, walking down a sidewalk between the stands. “Your friend is in the stables,” he said.

  “The stables? Why is he in there?”

  Gordie didn’t answer, just kept walking a step ahead of me. I got the eerie feeling of following a mafia Don into his territory, and only by his grace would I be protected from his goons.

  We strolled along a path that wound around behind the track. A long barn came into view. The deafening croak of frogs came from the pond on one side of the stables. One glance at the water through the cattails had me wondering how close Roy was to cement shoes and sleeping with the fishes.

  Gordie knocked on the barn doors. “It’s me,” he called.

  The doors slid open and he stepped inside, waving me in behind him.

  The bright lights overhead gave the golden hay a warm glow. That, along with the earthy scent of the horses, gave me a false sense of security. Good thing my brain remembered I was standing beside the bookie king of horse racing.

  Long necks careened over the stall doors, and big, dark eyes watched me pass. The stranger in their midst. I desperately wanted to reach out and pat one of the horses, but I didn’t dare.