If Mashed Potatoes Could Dance

by Paige Shelton

  I nodded as I silently thought to myself, If only Sally hadn’t appeared until next week.

  “That’s wonderful! Tell him thank you!” Sally said.

  “She’s very appreciative, Jake. Sally, give us some time to run that errand, then we’ll go.”

  “I’ll be there waiting,” Sally said before disappearing.

  “She’s gone,” I said, not meaning to sound as grateful as I did.

  “She is much more high maintenance than the last ghost, isn’t she?” Jake said.

  “With much worse timing,” I said.

  “Right. Come on, let’s go talk to Stuart and Georgina, if they’re still at the shoe shop. I’m very excited about the Monroe House, but I do think we should attend to this first,” Jake said.

  There was a lull in the foot traffic on the boardwalk. The distant sound of popguns and cheers told us that a gunfight was being staged behind the corral at the other end of the street. The gunfights were popular attractions that always pulled lots of people off the boardwalk.

  We passed the post office and the small stagecoach museum without seeing one tourist, but had to move around a few small groups as we passed the saloon, crossed the street, and walked in front of the Broken Crumbs cookie shop, the pool hall, and the Jasper Theater. The theater was the place I’d said good-bye to Jerome. I hadn’t been able to step foot through the door since. As we passed by today, Gram’s words burned a little more brightly in my mind. You have to let him go, Betts.

  Stuart’s shoe repair shop was next to the Jasper. There weren’t enough shoes or boots to repair to keep the business fruitful, so he’d recently started making and selling hand-tooled leather belts adorned with Broken Rope–appropriate images like nooses and guns and bullets and bottles of whiskey. He did a great business both in town and through his Internet site.

  Stuart spent a lot of time in his shop. Even late evenings, he’d be in the back working, his face eerily lit and magnified by his lamp and jeweler’s visor. I’d always thought of him as a sweet loner. I’d never considered that he had other family. He lived alone, and I couldn’t ever remember meeting anyone who claimed to be related to him. The fact that the dead man’s wife was his cousin probably didn’t mean anything at all, but the connection was curious.

  I had no recollection of Georgina (Rim) Carlisle, but if she’d been significantly older than Damon, she might have grown up and left Broken Rope before I’d started paying attention to things like older siblings and extended family members. I didn’t remember their parents either.

  The front of the shoe shop was one large glass window. We saw Stuart, Georgina, and the bus driver, Leroy, sitting on chairs in the small lobby of the store. All three had a cup of coffee either in their hands or close by. Georgina was visibly upset as she dotted the corner of her eye with a tissue.

  “Oh. Should we go in?” Jake said, taking a step back and out of view of the window.

  I hesitated, too. It suddenly seemed like we might be intruding on a private gathering. But I quickly pushed the concern aside. “Yes, this was our plan. We should stick to it. I’m just curious enough to ask some questions, though I’m not exactly sure what they are. If you have a better idea, mention it now. If not, let’s go talk to them.”

  Jake nodded. “Let’s go.”

  I pulled open the heavy wood-framed, single-paned door and led the way inside. The long, narrow shop was done in browns and dark yellows, the colors having faded over the years into background blandness. But the overriding scents of leather and shoe polish made the shop one of my favorite places; usually I found the smells comforting. Today, the people had my full attention. Stuart, Leroy, and Georgina looked at us in unison, their initial silence interrupted only by a quiet sniff from Georgina.

  “Betts, Jake,” Stuart said after a moment.

  “We’re sorry to intrude,” I said, facing Georgina. “So very sorry for your loss.”

  She sniffed again, courageously. “Thank you. It’s been difficult.” Her long gray hair was pulled back into a thick ponytail, which made her look much older than when it fell freely over her shoulders.

  “Ms. Winston,” Leroy said as he nodded his own greeting. “Your grandmother okay?”

  “She’s fine, thank you.”

  “Good. I was hoping the stress wouldn’t get to her.”

  “It’s stressful for everyone,” I said, but I didn’t point out that Gram’s constitution was probably stronger than the rest of ours combined. People who didn’t know Gram well sometimes made the mistake of thinking her age made her more susceptible to factors like tiredness and stress. “We’re all just so sorry about what’s happened.”

  “We know it’s not your fault,” Leroy said.

  Awkward though it might have been, I took the conversation directly to the next step. “Who do you think might be responsible?”

  The three of them looked at each other. I thought they might be wondering if they’d heard me correctly.

  Finally, Stuart spoke. “We don’t think the police have any good leads. Have you heard differently?” He pushed up his thick-lensed glasses.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  Under normal circumstances, this would have been a good time to make an apologetic exit, excusing ourselves and telling them to let us know if we could help in any way, but I still hadn’t learned anything new.

  “Look,” I said, “this is awkward, but do you mind if I ask you some questions?” I scooted the only empty chair closer to Georgina. She sat up and looked at me, her eyebrows close together. She seemed less teary, but that was probably because she wasn’t sure what to make of my boldness. Jake hesitated only a second before moving to the front counter and leaning against it, flanking Georgina’s other side.

  Georgina turned toward Stuart. It took him a moment, but in a way, and probably without meaning to, he came to my rescue. “Betts studied to be a lawyer. Maybe she can help find the killer,” he said doubtfully.

  I didn’t bother to add that I’d dropped out of that particular form of training, or that I was not there in any official capacity but because my best friend Jake had been thrust into whatever awfulness was going on. I just sat still and tried to give the impression I knew what the hell I was doing.

  Georgina looked back at me and after the longest pause possible, nodded.

  “You’re from here, from Broken Rope, right? You and Stuart are cousins?” I said.

  “It’s been a long, long time since I lived here, but, yes, I was born in Broken Rope.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Leroy said. “When you introduced Stuart as your cousin, I didn’t realize you’d lived here, too.”

  “Yes, a long time ago,” Georgina repeated, a bit begrudgingly, I thought. “Do you think that matters?”

  “It probably doesn’t matter at all,” I said. “But some information has come to light that might—I stress might—be useful. Your younger brother, Damon, where is he?”

  “Oh, I see.” Georgina’s eyes opened wide for a brief instant before she nodded knowingly. “I haven’t talked to Damon in over ten years.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  Georgina glanced from Leroy to Stuart. I tried to read Stuart’s expression, but it seemed blank.

  “Last I heard, he was in jail.”

  Leroy shifted uncomfortably, and Stuart pinched his mouth as though the news wasn’t any big surprise.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you know where?” Cliff had mentioned that, until his escape, Damon had been incarcerated in Kansas, but nothing more specific. I watched her closely. Did she not know her brother had escaped jail? It didn’t seem possible. Had the police not told her yet? I just assumed that she would have heard by now, either from Broken Rope or Kansas authorities.

  “Leavenworth in Kansas.”

  “What is he in jail for?”

  Georgina shrugged. “I’m not sure I know.”

  Maybe her lack of desire to talk about her thug brother meant nothing more than she just didn�
��t like to talk about him. She was a good twenty years older than Damon. She wasn’t an old woman, but she was of a generation that typically kept these sorts of family secrets, well, secret.

  I looked at her a long time, but she didn’t betray any hidden feelings or knowledge, at least not that I could interpret. “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry,” I said, switching gears. “I should have introduced my friend when we got here. This is Jake Swanson. Jake, this is Leroy Norton and Georgina Carlisle.” As I made the introductions, I kept at least part of my attention on Georgina. I wanted to see her reaction when I mentioned Jake’s name. She bent her head down and put the tissue to her nose, which meant either she was trying to avoid looking at him or her nose was running.

  “Oh, you’re the man I talked to on the phone, the one who helped with the cooking school sleepover,” Leroy said as he stood, shook Jake’s hand, and then sat down again.

  Georgina finally glanced at Jake and nodded but didn’t say anything. She didn’t act like she recognized him at all. I didn’t know what I’d expected her to say or do, but based on her indifferent response to Jake, I couldn’t be sure if she knew what her brother had done to him when we were younger, or cared at this point. She appeared to be nothing more, nothing less than a grieving widow. I switched gears again.

  “How did it come about that you called Jake?” I asked Leroy.

  Leroy scratched his head. “When our hotel rooms got messed up, I called the police. Jake answered.”

  Jake was the fake sheriff, not the real one. There had to be a crossed wire somewhere.

  “How did you get his number?” I said.

  “The Internet. I searched for Broken Rope police.”

  I’d have to repeat that search later, but for now his story kind of made sense. Maybe. Maybe Jake’s reputation as our fake sheriff had given him some sort of notability that had led to him being mistakenly tagged in that vast Internet universe as an officer of the law.

  “You called the police? Must have been important.”

  “It was. I didn’t know who else to call, and I thought they could direct me to someone who could help.” He nodded at Jake. “It worked.”

  I didn’t point out that if the hotel can’t help, people usually call the tourism bureau or the travel council, either of which might have put him in contact with Jake anyway since Jake often helps work the phones for those agencies. Nevertheless, Leroy had done what he thought he should do, and he was right, it had worked. However strange the circumstances had been, the foodies had stayed in Broken Rope overnight.

  I didn’t know if what I wanted to do next was okay to do. I thought it might be mean, or that it might constitute interfering with the official investigation; perhaps it was just stupid. If Jim and Cliff hadn’t told Georgina about her brother, I thought they would soon enough, though. I wasn’t a part of the official investigation, so therefore I was doing nothing improper, but something bit at my gut and told me I wasn’t making the right choice when I spoke next. Still, the desire to dig for more information was too strong to resist.

  “Georgina,” I said as I leaned forward and put my hand over hers, the one that was on her thigh, “I have something distressing to tell you. I hate to add to your trouble.” I really, truly did. “But it seems that Damon has escaped from jail. They haven’t been able to find him.”

  Stuart sucked in a gasp, and Leroy made some sort of rumble noise. Georgina, on the other hand, kept her gaze steady on mine as she said, “I know, I know he’s escaped. I didn’t want to worry Stuart. The Kansas authorities contacted me immediately. I don’t like to think about Damon. He’s the evil mark on the family. I don’t like to think about him, and I don’t like to talk about him. And I didn’t want to worry Stuart,” she repeated.

  She had known and she hadn’t been honest with her own cousin. She’d lied to all of us. I really wished I knew why.

  “But, Georgina, don’t you think his escape could possibly, maybe have something to do with what’s happened here?”

  “No! I mean, no, Damon’s not a killer.”

  “But think about it, have you talked to the local police about your brother, about the escape?” They knew, but she didn’t know I’d learned it from them.

  “No, of course not.”

  Stuart and Leroy exchanged glances.

  “Georgie, I’m sorry, but you need to tell the local police,” Stuart said. “Honestly, I didn’t even think about Damon. I didn’t know he was in jail. I didn’t know anything about an escape. I just thought he’d left town all those years ago. You need to tell the police,” Stuart said.

  Tears started to run from Georgina’s eyes, a steady stream down her cheeks. “You’re probably right. Oh, you’re right, of course. I just don’t want to…” She didn’t finish.

  “You need to talk to them right away,” Stuart said. “I can take you there now.”

  Jim’s office was only a few doors down. If he wasn’t in, someone would be. I hoped they wouldn’t figure out I’d been involved in her taking this information to them. Stuart, Leroy, Georgina, none of them questioned how I knew about Damon. Maybe they thought I or Jake really did have some official role in the investigation.

  Jake!

  I looked at him. I hadn’t told him about the escape either. He was handling it well. He blinked at me but kept a strong posture as he nodded. I’d apologize later.

  “All right, then.” Georgina stood but didn’t seem to know which direction to move her feet until Stuart took her arm and helped her out of the shop.

  For a long few beats, Leroy, Jake, and I watched the back of the door. It seemed so much quieter in the lobby without them.

  “You know,” Leroy finally said, “we’ve had some crazy stuff going on on the bus. Things missing.”

  “What kind of things?” I asked as Jake took Georgina’s seat, I thought maybe to recover from the shock I’d delivered a moment ago.

  “Money, a wallet, other things. I’ll talk to the others.”

  “Did you tell the police?” Jake asked, his low, even voice surprising me.

  “No, I didn’t think it mattered much considering there are worse things happening. I should tell them now, though, shouldn’t I?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “Immediately.” In the back of my mind, I thought I should let Jim and Cliff know how helpful Jake and I had been in getting people to talk to them. I was on a roll. I wondered who else we might convince to talk to the police.

  It took Leroy a second to process that immediately meant right now. He needed to get in line behind Georgina. Finally, he left, too, presumably following the other two.

  “You know how to clear a room,” Jake said after the door closed behind Leroy.

  “I’m so sorry, Jake. I forgot to tell you about Damon. Sally distracted me, and then we hurried over here…”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said as he held his hand up. “It’s fine.”

  “I wish I knew if we learned anything from those three. I’m not even sure how I got to the questions I got to.”

  “Instincts. You might want to consider a life in law enforcement, or maybe as an attorney.”

  “Na, you gotta sell your soul to be a lawyer. As a cooking teacher, I get to feed souls. Much better.”

  “I see.”

  “Come on, I don’t know what else to do downtown. Let’s go to the Monroe House and get that over with. You promised Sally you’d search that terrible place for her,” I said.

  “Let me cancel my next show, and we’ll go,” Jake said with a big sigh.

  I switched the sign on Stuart’s door to GONE TO LUNCH and closed it behind us.

  Chapter 12

  The Monroe House was located on the eastern outskirts of Broken Rope. At one time it had been the first landmark of Broken Rope for travelers moving west through the country. It was big and intimidating, and Abel Monroe would greet people with a shotgun in one hand and a whiskey bottle in the other. He, along with a group of men whose names Jake could recite but I couldn
’t, founded Broken Rope. Abel had apparently been the money guy and had built the mansion and farmed the land with the hope that there would be more mansions built and more huge plantation-like farms in the area. But it wasn’t to be. Broken Rope turned into a true Old West town instead of one that espoused southern hospitality. Abel’s greetings along with his abolitionist leanings made him a Broken Rope legend. It was thoughtful of him to die in a gruesome and mysterious way, as did most of the other Broken Rope legends.

  Unlike the land around Suzi Warton’s bed-and-breakfast, the land around the Monroe House was only sparsely developed. In Sally’s day, a smattering of other homes had dotted the area, but they had been cheaply built and hadn’t survived the test of time. Like Sally’s house, they were gone, but a new developer had recently built five homes down the road from the Monroe House. I didn’t know who the developer was, but I suspected he was licking his chops in anticipation of the day the Monroe House came down and he could begin building more neighborhoods in its place.

  To get to the area, you had to maneuver a sharp downhill curve. The turnoff to the curve was camouflaged enough that I always had to slow down substantially to make sure I didn’t miss it. The Monroe House was so off the beaten path that even the tourists who’d heard of Abel Monroe didn’t really want to take the trip out to see it. I knew Jake had visions of restoration and a big tourist draw, but even without my prejudice, I wondered how well it would play.

  The mansion’s remote location and somewhat treacherous route of access as well as the fact that no one had really lived there for years added to its Halloween appeal. Teenagers could go to the Monroe House and scare themselves and each other without much interruption. I knew Jim didn’t let things get too out of hand, but I was glad I was well past having any desire to act on such silliness. In fact, the noises I’d heard and shadows I’d seen when I was sixteen had kept me far away ever since. I’d probably driven by it only a few times since my high school days. I hadn’t even taken the time to look at the new houses down the road.