Rosie got out her camcorder and held it up, focusing on the activity around the well. She didn’t care what Cam said. The mysterious tarp and possible skeleton felt like the beginning of a suspense film like Rear Window.
“Rosie Flynn!” Sheriff Parker barked from the front of the crowd.
Rosie lowered her camera, her cheeks warming as everyone’s eyes swiveled in her direction. “Y-yes, sir.”
“Put that camcorder down. This is not the time for that,” Sheriff Parker yelled, running a hand over his head and glancing down at the tarp.
“Last I checked it was a free country,” Rosie whispered to Henry and Cam, but she shut the camcorder off anyway.
“He sure is touchy today,” Henry said, giving Rosie a sympathetic look.
“Don’t worry about him. He’s a jerk,” Cam hissed, and glared at anyone still looking at Rosie. “He should be flattered that someone talented wants to film him anyway.”
Rosie thrust the camcorder into her bag, wishing she could hide under the tarp herself. Sheriff Parker had managed to embarrass her in front of half the town. She wasn’t even doing anything wrong!
Mayor Grant stepped forward. “Folks, I’m sorry, but Sheriff Parker wants y’all to clear out of here. The boys from the police department need some space.”
“Why do we gotta leave?” Shane Rodgers called out. “This park is public property.”
“This park is a crime scene,” Sheriff Parker snapped.
“Now, I wouldn’t call it a crime scene. We found one dead body,” Mayor Grant said.
The crowd gasped.
“But it’s a very old body,” Mayor Grant said hastily.
“We deserve to know about a dead body in our town,” Frank Rodgers said.
“We can’t discuss any details right now,” Sheriff Parker said, frowning at Mayor Grant.
Donna Davis pulled her two daughters close. “Was there an actual murder in Glimmer Creek or not? I don’t want my girls out in public when there’s a killer on the loose.”
Mayor Grant gave Sheriff Parker an apologetic look. “Donna, there is nothing to worry about. It just so happens we found a journal on the body. It sustained some water damage, but it had the name of the deceased engraved inside so we can identify the body, and I can say for certain that any murderer—not that I’m saying this was a murder, mind you—but any alleged murderer is long dead.”
Sheriff Parker leaned over and began whispering furiously in Mayor Grant’s ear. Mayor Grant waved him off and continued. “Best if everyone hears it from me first. The body belongs to Lonnie Garrett. And before you ask, there was no gold in the well. Trust me, we looked.”
The crowd erupted. People shouted out questions. Sheriff Parker tilted his head up to the sky, looking as if he wanted to throw Mayor Grant down the well. Rosie, Henry, and Cam all stared at each other, their eyes locked and sparking.
“I cannot believe this,” Rosie said, pulling them away from the crowd. “Mama and I were talking about Lonnie Garrett last week. He’s the man who stole the train treasure a hundred years ago.”
“I bet everyone with a metal detector starts searching the woods first thing tomorrow,” Cam said.
Henry paced beside them, his face set and pale. He did this whenever he was thinking about a mission for the Lego robotics club or studying for a big test in his advanced classes.
“Henry?” Cam asked. “What’s going on?”
“I’m just—just thinking,” Henry said, not ceasing the walking back and forth.
“About?” Rosie asked.
“Treasure.” Henry stilled, and his face lit up in a wide smile. “If Lonnie Garrett’s body is here, the legend is true. The train treasure really is in Glimmer Creek. We should be the ones to find it.”
“You want us to find it,” Rosie said slowly.
“Why not? We have as much of a chance as anyone,” Henry said.
“Except we’re twelve, and we have no clues,” Cam said.
“And we’re in school all day. This isn’t an Indiana Jones movie.” Rosie eyed Henry. “It’s not like you to go on a treasure hunt. What’s going on?”
Henry hesitated. “Well, I—I bet I can get a ton of extra credit for American History if I find the treasure. It’s a historically significant artifact, and um, if I present it to the class, Mrs. Collier will probably give me an A-plus for the whole quarter.”
Cam narrowed her eyes. “You already have straight As.”
Henry blinked rapidly. “Yes, but I bet it would also get me into college. Colleges are really competitive these days, and a treasure hunter qualification would help me stand out from the pack. Besides, think about what we could do with all that money. I’m dying for a new … telescope.” He looked from Cam to Rosie, his expression open and hopeful. “Come on, this could be our greatest adventure, even better than when we climbed Devil’s Leap last summer.”
“You hated that climb,” Rosie said.
“And the jump into the river after,” Cam added.
“That’s why this is better,” Henry said.
Rosie and Cam exchanged a look. Henry couldn’t be serious. It reminded Rosie of when they’d convinced each other there were jewels in one of the streams near their street. All they’d found was a lot of shiny rocks, but they were sure they would become zillionaires. They had spent hours splashing each other and shouting every time one of them found a particularly sparkly specimen. That time was fun, but they were old enough to know they weren’t going to find a real treasure in Glimmer Creek.
“I think it’s a long shot. Like, a really big long shot,” Cam said, but not in a mean voice.
Henry’s face fell. “You’re probably right. It was a dumb idea.”
Rosie bit her lip. “It wasn’t dumb.”
“Only unrealistic,” Cam said.
“It’s okay,” Henry said, thrusting his hands into his pockets.
The three of them headed out of River Bend Park. Cam was talking about the movie they were going to see on Friday, and Henry was nodding his head, seeming interested. He looked back at the tarp one final time.
Maybe it was the fading light of the October sun or maybe it was the dappled shadows from the trees, but for a single instant Henry looked exactly like Indiana Jones reaching for the Holy Grail; he looked like he would do anything to solve the mystery of Lonnie Garrett. Rosie couldn’t help but wonder if this was really the last they’d hear about the train treasure.
CHAPTER FIVE
Rosie waved good-bye to Cam and Henry, who were heading toward Willow Lane, and stopped in at Sook Diner to pick up crab cake sandwiches for supper. Sook Diner was almost empty at this time of the afternoon. The black-and-white-checkered floor was spotless, the red vinyl booths were polished up, and the Blue brothers sat at the counter, since they took the early-bird special seriously and started their supper in the four thirty time frame.
Rosie ordered the sandwiches. Miss Matilda said it would take a few extra minutes, but she offered to throw in a couple of her Miracle cookies. Miss Matilda baked her sugar cookies every day in the shapes of different Miracles. There was a fish for the first Miracle, a music note for Miss Lily, a boat for the Blues brothers, and a mailbag for Mr. Waverman.
Charlie Blue peered down at the menu. “How much sugar is in the limeades?”
“The right amount,” Miss Matilda said, scrubbing at the counter harder than seemed necessary.
Charlie pursed his lips. “Now, do you make the barbecue with vinegar or brown sugar?”
“Charlie, you eat here every day. You know how I make my barbecue,” Miss Matilda snapped.
“I’m only asking a question,” Charlie said. “Seems as though you don’t want my business.”
“I don’t,” Miss Matilda said.
“Well, I’m not leaving,” Charlie said. “It’s gonna rain in the next hour.”
Rosie spotted Mayor Grant and his wife in a booth midway down the row. She slowed when Mayor Grant and Mrs. Grant’s voices got louder. They
were in the middle of a serious talk. It wasn’t right to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help being curious after the skeleton. She slid into the booth behind them.
Mayor Grant sighed behind her. “The timing couldn’t be worse.”
“Honey, you’re getting all riled up for nothing,” Mrs. Grant said.
“I’ve already got twenty messages from concerned citizens asking about the murder investigation, wanting to know if I’m going to enforce a curfew at night, and questioning what I’m doing to solve our crime problem. Glimmer Creek does not have a crime problem. For hollering out loud, this isn’t even a real criminal investigation,” Mayor Grant said, sounding as if he were about to burst through the buttons on his shirt.
“Didn’t you say the sheriff thinks the dead man was shot?” Mrs. Grant asked.
Rosie leaned further back toward Mayor Grant, straining to hear every word.
“That skeleton is a hundred years old,” Mayor Grant said. “Sheriff Parker said Lonnie was most likely shot by the FBI during the failed robbery. Now the Gazette will be chock-full of a murder investigation instead of the festival, with folks running around, pitching a hissy fit, and digging up half the town for some gosh-darn treasure.
“Some of the people who e-mailed me said they don’t feel safe in River Bend Park anymore. What if they don’t come to the festival? The Miracles are part of our town heritage, and I spend all year planning the festival to celebrate them. With this being my last one, it just has to be perfect! I need to come up with a way to make it even bigger, even better, so people forget about this skeleton and I don’t end my tenure as mayor with a failed festival.” He sighed again. “I need a milkshake.”
Suddenly, Rosie sat straight up. The most brilliant, most amazing, most perfect plan popped into her head. It was a plan that would get her father to Glimmer Creek and solve Mayor Grant’s problem all at the same time.
Rosie leapt out of the booth. “Hi, Mayor, Mrs. Grant.”
Mayor Grant cradled his bald head in his hands, but Mrs. Grant smiled at Rosie.
“How are you, Rosie?” Mrs. Grant asked.
“I’m fine, ma’am,” Rosie said. “But I couldn’t help overhearing Mayor Grant, and it just so happens I have an idea to help.”
“We’d love to hear it,” Mrs. Grant said. “Wouldn’t we, Harold?”
“Huh?” Mayor Grant said, looking up, his eyes bleary.
“What if I film a documentary about the Miracles and premiere it at the festival?” Rosie asked.
Mrs. Grant looked confused, and Mayor Grant looked miserable.
“What does a documentary have to do with helping the festival?” Mayor Grant asked.
“Don’t you see? It will get people excited about the Miracles, which are what the festival is all about,” Rosie said.
Mayor Grant started shaking his head and opened his mouth to respond.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Rosie said, holding out her hands to stop him. “I don’t have the experience. I’ve never filmed a documentary before. That is true, but I have made at least twenty other films, and some of them have more than five hundred views on YouTube.” She paused to let this sink in. “Mayor Grant, that’s a lot of views, and they weren’t all just me rewatching.”
“I’ll admit I really enjoyed your movie about the junior detective finding the cat,” Mayor Grant said.
“That was a good one,” Mrs. Grant agreed. “What was it called again?”
“Creek Confidential,” Rosie said. “That was my first attempt at the police procedural genre. I watched The Big Sleep and Chinatown to prepare for that. They’re also about private investigators solving crimes. It goes to show you I can learn how to make different types of films, like documentaries.”
“Unfortunately,” Mayor Grant said, shaking his head, “and I mean no offense here, Rosie, but I don’t think a student film is going to solve my public relations problem. Besides, how would we premiere the movie without a movie theater?” Mayor Grant looked past Rosie’s shoulder. “Where is Miss Matilda? I’m starving.”
Rosie considered Mayor Grant’s frown, hunched shoulders, and complete lack of interest. She had to come up with some way to convince him.
“You raise some great points. We could … we could—” The solution hit Rosie like Miss Matilda’s flyswatter. She snapped her fingers. “We could borrow the outdoor movie screen and projector from Gloster. I know they have one because Mama and I saw an outdoor movie there last year.”
Mayor Grant tented his fingers and looked more interested. “I forgot they had an outdoor movie contraption.”
“If Gloster loaned it to us, we could screen the documentary … and—and another movie too after the sun went down.” Rosie watched Mayor Grant perk up. “Last year, when Gloster showed that outdoor movie, it was packed. People love to watch movies outside. You could show something everyone would like—something like Singin’ in the Rain or E.T.”
“Not a bad idea,” Mayor Grant said. “It could be another big attraction for the festival, make it a whole family affair.”
Rosie was almost there.
“You can show the movie after my documentary,” Rosie said. Her muscles bunched up with nerves. He had to say yes. “No one is going to be thinking about a skeleton when they have a movie to distract them.”
Mrs. Grant turned to her husband. “Honey, I think it’s a great idea.”
Mayor Grant eyed Rosie for several long seconds. “All right, Rosie. Let’s do it.”
Rosie let out a small yelp of triumph. “You will not regret this.”
Mayor Grant held up a finger. “I am going to need to see that documentary in advance.”
“You bet,” Rosie said, unable to stop smiling.
“And you only have seventeen days until the festival,” Mayor Grant added.
“I’m great at working on tight deadlines. It’s good practice for the real world too. Hollywood producers are notorious for riding directors on film schedules,” Rosie said.
“I can’t wait to see it,” Mrs. Grant said warmly.
“I’m going home to start my storyboard right now, and I already have a ton of ideas. With all the research I have to do, I might even figure out what causes the Miracles,” Rosie said, clasping her hands together. If she made a documentary and solved the town’s greatest mystery in the process, everyone would be so impressed. Her father would be so impressed.
Mrs. Grant chuckled. “I don’t know about that. No one knows what causes the Miracles.”
“Well, someone has to figure it out,” Rosie said. She scooped up her to-go bag from the counter and skipped out of the diner before Mayor Grant could change his mind.
Outside, the chrysanthemums on the Lawler front porch looked redder, the leaves on the ground sounded crunchier, and the air all around was crisper. The sweet smell of caramel scented the air. Rosie waved to Mrs. Lawler and Mr. Willis. She smiled at Mrs. Green and Mr. Waverman, both of whom were holding metal detectors and walking down opposite sides of the street, already searching for the train treasure and glaring at each other across the pavement. Rosie wanted to shout out her news to the entire world. Not only was she making a documentary the entire town would see, solving a hundred-year-old mystery, and proving to everyone she was a real talent as a filmmaker, she’d found a way to get her father to Glimmer Creek.
Her plan was simple. Michael had promised to come see her first movie, so it was only natural for her to invite him to her big premiere. How could he possibly turn down the invitation to come to the festival when he was only two hours away? According to Miss Lily, he was fascinated with the Miracles too, which meant he’d definitely want to see a documentary about them. All she had left to do was ask him to come. Finding his address shouldn’t be too hard.
Rosie wriggled, unable to keep her happiness inside. She imagined the look on her father’s face when he walked into Glimmer Creek. He would pull her into a hug—an actual, real hug. If she was shooting it with her camera, the lens would zoom i
n on his face, a little craggy but still handsome. One tear would slip down his cheek; Rosie would look up at him, and they would both know everything in their lives had changed forever.
CHAPTER SIX
The next morning, Rosie wished she were still curled under the covers of her warm bed. Instead, she was filing papers at the town hall before school to earn enough money to pay back Mama for the new bench. The walls were a drab beige, like the underside of a moth’s wing. Black metal filing cabinets lined each side of the hallway, crowding the narrow pathway and darkening the hall. She’d walked up and down the same stretch of gray carpet for an hour with an endless stack of papers to file. Rosie yawned. If only she hadn’t stayed up so late thinking about her plan to get Michael to Glimmer Creek.
Unable to find a listed phone number or address, Rosie planned to search Mama’s laptop for Michael’s e-mail address after school today. Her stomach churned as she thought about what Mama would say if she found out Rosie had contacted Michael without telling her. Would her mouth turn down in that disappointed look she got when Rosie forgot to empty the dishwasher? Would she think Rosie had betrayed her? Rosie couldn’t even think of the right way to tell Mama about the documentary because she was too afraid of blurting out the real reason for the film.
Mama burst into the hallway, her long skirt swirling around the high heels she wore for work. She held a muffin in her hand. “I present the cherry-chocolate muffin baked by yours truly. It’s good for all manners of insomnia, including unrequited love, academic concerns, artistic dilemmas, reality-television malaise, and monetary distress.”
Mama’s words ran together in one long mix of letters. Sometimes she talked as fast as Katharine Hepburn in Bringing Up Baby, and Rosie had to watch that film three times before she got most of the dialogue.
Rosie snatched up the muffin and took a bite. The tart cherries and smooth chocolate mingled together in perfect harmony. She might work at the town hall, but Mama was still the best baker in Glimmer Creek.
Forever Glimmer Creek Page 4