Festival Turmoil

by Wendy Meadows

  “I told you that it would be good to keep your apartment, Phyllis. Let’s go.”

  The two drank coffee and told one another of the lovely honeymoons each had spent with their respective spouses, whose love was true and deep. Brenda was enthralled with Phyllis’ descriptions of the islands she and William visited. Brenda told her she had brought back new recipes to use from Italy.

  The happy honeymoon had left Phyllis in a pensive mood, reflecting on how her spouse’s second marriage was a second chance at happiness. “William had a terrible marriage with Lady Pendleton, or perhaps I should simply refer to her as Priscilla. I believe they were in love at first but later discovered they had nothing in common at all.” Phyllis drew a deep breath. “She wouldn’t hear of divorce because she wanted everyone in Sweetfern Harbor to think theirs was a perfect marriage. Of course, as you know, Brenda, it was far from perfect. She treated him terribly.”

  “I know that. I still shudder when I recall finding her slumped over dead in her car right out here in front of my bed and breakfast. I was new to the area then and I think Mac somehow suspected me first of all.”

  “He learned his lesson, didn’t he?” They laughed at the memories of Brenda’s early days adjusting to Sweetfern Harbor and to Mac Rivers.

  “We really need to get busy, Phyllis. I’m so glad you are home. We’ll have plenty of time to chat after the festivities. I want to finish things here and get to the competition early to get a good view. I just know Allie will win.”

  “Of course she will. She’s the best one competing.”

  They started in the kitchen where chef Morgan gave them several recipes to help mix up. Cookies of every flavor abounded but there still weren’t enough to feed the whole town. Allie and the other employees finished decorating the downstairs where people would gather. Jenny came downstairs and demanded to help out. She looked much better and Brenda agreed she could help as long as she didn’t overdo it.

  By two in the afternoon, everything was ready. A break was in order. They decided to leave two employees at the bed and breakfast in case any guests hung around and needed anything. Allie was sent home to get ready for her big night. The rest of them traipsed downtown and enjoyed the many craft and food booths that lined the main street. Shops were open and crowds of people roamed around, enjoying everything on offer.

  Jenny walked next to Brenda. “I want to get to my shop. I really feel well enough to work for a while. Tracy can’t do all of it by herself.” She noticed Brenda’s worried look. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll take a break in back if I need one.” They stopped in front of Jenny’s Blossoms. “Look, someone redid my window and it looks beautiful.”

  “Tracy and her husband were determined to get it back as beautiful as you created it, Jenny. You can thank them,” Brenda said. They left Jenny and walked along the sidewalk. They stopped at a booth set up to cook what appeared to be full meals. The aroma of fried foods proved irresistible.

  “This may be a wild request since I know you are cooking on the street, but do you have fried eggplant?” Phyllis asked.

  “It’s not a wild request at all,” said the vendor. “We have fried eggplant patties. We’ll put mozzarella cheese and tomato on top if you want it that way.” Phyllis agreed happily. Brenda ordered a fried haddock sandwich and sweet potato fries.

  They took their orders to one of the tables set up at the edge of the piles of snow that had been pushed to the curb. Hot beverages steamed before them. They ate and then browsed some of the other booths. Finally, they made their way to Morning Sun Coffee, where they finished with hot chocolate.

  “I can’t believe you two ate sitting out in that cold weather,” Molly said. “You could have brought it in here with you and sat where it’s warm.”

  The two women laughed. “We didn’t mind. It felt good to sit out there and pretend it was summer. Lots of people did the same thing.” Brenda added that the hot food warmed them.

  Brenda said she wanted to relieve the two employees at the bed and breakfast so they could enjoy the activity downtown. They were a block from Sheffield Bed and Breakfast when Brenda recognized a familiar voice. She turned to see Marilyn Martin talking with two women and three men. They all appeared friendly and Brenda presumed they knew one another.

  Marilyn noticed Brenda and waved to her. “It’s a wonderful festival,” she said. Her former guest didn’t bother introducing Brenda to her friends and chattered on about activities around them until Brenda excused herself stating she needed to get back to her business.

  “That seemed strange,” Brenda commented once out of earshot. When Phyllis questioned her, Brenda told her she had no idea Marilyn Martin knew anyone around town.

  “Maybe she just met them today or at the motel where she’s staying. You told me she befriended one of your guests right away when she got here.”

  Brenda had to agree that Marilyn seemed to make friends easily and dismissed her misgivings. At least she was sticking around Sweetfern Harbor until Mac finished with any questioning of her. Once back at the bed and breakfast, Phyllis filled the two employees in on what was going on downtown. She sat with Brenda in the sitting room to wait. The door was open so they would know when anyone came in. Guests began to trickle in after an hour or so. Brenda invited them in for a hot beverage and refreshments. Several took her up on the invitation and joined them.

  “I thought Marilyn left town,” Linda said, “but I just saw her down near the shops.”

  “She moved to different lodgings because she felt more comfortable doing so. Phyllis and I spoke with her. She is staying in town until the Winter Festival is over.” The explanation satisfied Linda and the guests talked of the delicious food cooked on the street. Brenda told them that Allie would compete later in the ice skating competition. “They will skate on the frozen lake at the park. Make sure you dress warmly. It will last a couple of hours by the time everything is finished.”

  “There will be a break after the first hour so you can go to the warming stations they’ll have set up,” Phyllis said.

  “If anyone needs warm coats or gloves or even boots, let me know. We keep a stash here for guests.” Two ladies mentioned they would probably add to their wardrobe for the night.

  It was finally time for the competition to begin. The crowd that gathered sat on makeshift bleachers at the edge of the frozen lake and huddled together. Winds were calm and it was a starry night.

  Allie waited with Hope by her side, behind the partition that circled the smooth ice that was illuminated with spotlights in the darkness. Her mother’s presence calmed her considerably and Allie knew she was ready as soon as her name was called. Imagine began and she glided onto the slate-like ice. Her movements were perfection. Allie’s eyes roved over the crowd but she didn’t focus on any one person, not even Philip Turner, whose camera was taking bursts of shots every time she gracefully swooped or turned over the frozen surface.

  “She’s mouthing the words,” Brenda said. “See, I just saw her mouth the words ‘you say I’m a dreamer.’ She’s really into it.” Mac nodded and on her left Phyllis whispered agreement.

  David Williams leaned over her shoulder from behind them. “Imagine is her favorite and she is crazy about John Lennon’s songs. She told me she sings along as she skates because she can really get into her movements.” He paused and watched his daughter. “She’s something, isn’t she?”

  Brenda turned around. “Yes, she sure is and she’s a winner tonight. I’m sure of it.”

  Brenda was right. At the end when the winners were announced, Allie Williams came in first. Everyone clapped and shouted congratulations her way. Allie beamed brighter than the sparkling lights that shimmered across the frozen lake. When everyone arrived at Sheffield Bed and Breakfast no one talked of anything other than how beautiful Allie was on the ice. They marveled at her ability to perform so flawlessly. Brenda told her again and again how talented she was.

  Allie whispered to Brenda. “I hope to be a professi
onal skater someday and maybe make it to the Olympics.”

  “I don’t doubt you will succeed, Allie.”

  The tourists, guests and townspeople in Sweetfern Harbor came and went through Sheffield Bed and Breakfast. They enjoyed the sweets the chef had prepared and many compliments were thrown out about the large pretzels supplied by Sweet Treats. Mac reached for a second bacon cheddar pretzel and picked up a small container of queso dip. Brenda suggested he try one of the cinnamon sugar ones, too.

  “I may regret having this second bacon and cheddar. It’s hard to choose from all these goodies. You did a wonderful job as usual,” he told her.

  Bryce and Jenny joined them. She held half a pretzel in one hand and ranch dip in the other. “I would learn to make these but it’s a surer thing if I just buy them in the future from Hope.” She explained hers was honey and garlic. “Not too much garlic, but just the hint of it is delicious.”

  They joked about Bryce staying away from her if she insisted on eating garlic. Brenda smiled to see that her loved ones were so relaxed. The happy babble of voices around her told her that everyone was enjoying feelings of security around town once again.

  “I’m going to catch up with some of the shopkeepers I haven’t seen since coming home from Italy,” Brenda said.

  She turned away and then stopped when she heard Mac’s phone ring. She glanced back to see regret in his eyes. He handed her his half-eaten pretzel and pulled her aside.

  “There’s trouble down at the jail. I have to get moving.” He grabbed Bryce and told him they were on their way to the police station. “Seems someone tried to free our two notorious prisoners while we were all celebrating.”

  “Are you telling me they are loose on the streets?” Brenda asked.

  “No,” Mac said, “but the would-be jail breakers are. Let’s go, Bryce.”

  Brenda and Jenny looked at one another. Then Brenda started toward the front door of her bed and breakfast. She wanted to know who came and went from this point forward.

  “Phyllis and I will go to the back door,” Jenny said, as she signaled Phyllis.

  Brenda recognized two plainclothes police officers already in the foyer. Phyllis and Jenny found the same security at the back and side doors. Brenda meandered through the crowd of people in her establishment. Most were familiar to her, but with so many tourists in town it was impossible to know who everyone was. Her stomach dropped to realize she had no idea if they were friend or foe.

  Allie found Brenda after hearing murmurs from several guests who had been near Brenda and Mac when the detectives suddenly left the party. She and Brenda met in a quiet spot in the hallway. Allie asked what was going on.

  “There has been an attempted jail break. At least, I hope it was only an attempt. Mac and Bryce are down there investigating. Let’s try to keep things going as if nothing unusual is happening. Keep your eyes open. We don’t know who tried to break them out. I just hope no more guests were involved.”

  Allie gasped. “You’re right. They could be hiding in plain sight.” Brenda reminded her to stay calm. When the young reservationist walked away from Brenda, something struck her as odd. She called Allie back.

  “Where is your admirer, the photographer?”

  “I haven’t seen Philip since he tried to distract me during the competition. His ego may have been damaged when I didn’t take the bait.”

  Brenda agreed with Allie. Once she walked back into the crowd, Brenda searched for her guest. Philip Turner was absent. Phyllis caught up with Brenda and Brenda asked her if she had seen the photographer.

  “I haven’t seen him since the competition. That’s a little surprising since you’d think he would want to keep snapping pictures all the way to the end of the celebrations,” said Phyllis.

  The women looked at one another. Brenda saw one of the plainclothes cops and asked him to come upstairs to the photographer’s room with her. She lowered her voice and warned him she had no idea what, if anything, they would find. Officer Patrick Simpson followed them too when he asked Brenda what was going on. Together, the two cops and Brenda went to Philip’s room. She knocked on the door and, receiving no answer, unlocked it.

  The room was empty. The only indication anyone had occupied the room was the rumpled bed covers. The armoire was empty and no suitcases were in sight. Brenda told Patrick to search for anything that may give a hint as to who the photographer really was while she called Mac. She told her husband about the missing man.

  “Finally, we have someone to look for,” Mac said. “So far, neither prisoner will tell us anything.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Not So Innocent

  The rest of the evening went smoothly at Sheffield Bed and Breakfast. When the last guest left, only the female and male police officers in plainclothes remained. They were ordered by Mac to stay where they were and keep their eyes open for Philip Turner. Brenda thanked her employees for a successful night and everyone left except chef Morgan and her helpers, who finished putting things away in the kitchen. Brenda thanked them and was glad only she, Jenny and Phyllis were left with the officers. The three women sat in the sitting room. Brenda waited until Officer Simpson returned to give her any news of findings in Philip’s room.

  “We found some scraps of paper, blank ones, and this was sticking out from under the bed. It looks like your guest left a very important document by mistake.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how anyone would so carelessly leave a passport on the floor.”

  “He probably dropped it without knowing it.” Brenda read the name on the passport. It showed the correct name, and country of origin was Canada. That was crucial to prove at least one person in the drama was who he said he was. She called Mac to give him the update. “He can’t get out of the United States without his passport, at least.”

  Brenda felt the smile in Mac’s voice. “No, he cannot.”

  Philip Turner was sure he could successfully free Neb and Richard. It would be easy. Everyone, including the cops, would be at the big celebration at the bed and breakfast. He knew the local sheriff and one deputy were at the police station guarding the jail cells, and no one else. When he slipped through the back door, he heard them laughing in a room down the hall. It sounded as if they were playing cards. The men he intended to free were at the opposite end. Philip didn’t expect such good luck. He crept down the hall and when he got to the first cell where Neb was held, he held his finger to his lips. Neb grinned.

  Things were going well. Philip watched his father for many years unlock every type of lock when people forgot or lost keys to their cars or homes. Philip himself became a locksmith as a young adult. His side hobby was always photography, and he found that posing as a photographer was an easy disguise that also helped win him points with pretty girls on occasion.

  When Neb and Richard were accused of their crimes, he had used his festival press pass to get in the jail to snap photos. He noted the poorly maintained cell door locks and managed to get two photos detailing the lock pieces. He had laughed to himself at the failure of those in charge to see that there was a gap between the door frame and the slam lock on three cells in a row. Neb and Richard were each assigned one of them. It was sheer luck that the police officer hadn’t come across any of the photos of the jail cells when he had reviewed the photos in his hotel room the other day.

  At Neb’s cell, Philip moved the pry bar from his left hand to his right and began prying. He panicked when he clanged the bar against the door frame, freezing in place. The laughing and sounds of camaraderie from down the hall stopped.

  Neb knew Philip was his only hope on the outside, but the overconfident young man had blown his chance. “Get out, you idiot,” he hissed. “We’ll think of something else. Run.”

  Philip held onto the pry bar tightly and escaped the police station the way he had come in, his dark form melting into the darkness of the rear parking lot. The sheriff sent his deputy out the back door while he quickly ascertained the cell doors were stil
l locked. Then he went after them. The deputy turned to him and spread his hands in frustration.

  “I lost him.” He pointed to the dark alley.

  The Sheriff called Detective Mac Rivers right away. Neither officer had a good look at the would-be jail breaker except to say he had light-colored hair and was rather tall. A manhunt began.

  Philip Turner had already packed his bags securely in the trunk of his car. He calculated how long it would take him to get to the Canadian border and turned the ignition. He wanted to speed to get there faster but he realized he couldn’t risk being stopped for a traffic violation. Once across the border and safely home it would be a long process to find him and prove he was the one who tried to free his cousin Neb Tyler and Neb’s co-conspirator Richard. He and Neb had grown up together like brothers. Neb was two years older than Philip and that alone caused the man to lord it over his younger cousin. Philip was a follower and Neb was afraid of nothing.

  When Neb told him he and Rachel were going to spend a long weekend in the remote town of Sweetfern Harbor, he asked him why he would want to go somewhere with no action.

  “There will be plenty of action, Phil,” Neb told him. “Come with us. You might get some good pictures around that town.” He went on to tell Philip of the upcoming celebrations.

  Philip pressed him to tell him the real reason. His cousin had only recently gotten out of prison and he didn’t trust him to stay out of trouble. Philip was swayed as usual by his cousin, but when Philip asked the real reason, Neb hesitated. Philip had never been in trouble with the law before. He was incredulous when Neb finally revealed that he planned to get revenge on a top cop.

  He hated himself when he caved in. “I don’t want any part of crime,” he told Neb. “If you want me to take pictures of people to help your cause then I’ll go that far but I won’t do anything else to help you.”

  Neb’s laugh was not reassuring. “I don’t expect to get caught, but if I do, I want you to promise me you will come to the station and get some vital pictures of my arrest.”