by Ellen Riggs
Chapter Eighteen
Jilly had decided to throw a cocktail party in the recreation center when we got back. The Briars’ folk were on a freedom high and she wanted to keep the good feelings flowing for as long as possible. Enough people had tossed money into a kitty that she’d been able to buy some fun and fancy liqueurs. Having worked her way through college as a bartender, she knew her way around a blender and the dream kitchen had three good ones. She got them roaring and then sent me out to serve umbrella drinks in the pool area.
I was worried everyone would be so tired they’d end up tipsy and tipping into the pool, but most seemed to hold their booze better than I could. One peachy concoction was enough to make my head spin in the late afternoon heat, and my interrogation skills declined with every sip.
“Blender drinks are the enemy of the amateur sleuth,” I told Keats. “This would be the ideal time to pick some brains but I have the finesse of a sledgehammer.”
He mumbled his agreement but wasn’t inclined to work the crowd anyway. As I mingled, he stuck close to my heels. Very close. Sufficiently so that I eventually realized he was trying to tell me something, and it wasn’t to grab myself another peach beach breeze, or whatever Jilly had called it. In fact, the hackles along his spine had risen and his ears alternated up and down separately, as if he were trying to hear two things at once. I carried the empty tray back to Jilly and told her I needed to go down to the pond and check on the swan.
She took her finger off the blender button and stared at the dog. “You’re not going down there without me. Not when Keats looks like that.”
Relief surged through me and cleared away the peach buzz. “Party’s over, then.”
When the bar closed, people quickly dispersed, with so many hugs for Jilly that I had to do most of the cleanup. By the time I made my way out to the equipment shed near the pool, Keats was pacing and agitated. Percy was puffed, too.
“What are we looking for?” Jilly said, following me into the shed.
“Protection.” I aimed my phone light around the dim interior. “From what I’m not sure.”
In the end, we settled for hip waders, rain gear, a fishing net and other odds and ends. The oars and paddles I saw the other day were missing now, so they’d probably been left with the watercraft.
I stuffed everything I could into two big duffel bags we also found there. Then we stopped at my truck, which was still parked outside, to collect lifejackets. Percy was perched on the hood, waiting for us. Bridie had let him outside when she got home, as I’d asked. Hoisting our gear, Jilly and I started walking after Keats, who led us to a trail that turned out to be a shortcut to the pond.
“So, you’re planning on wading in there?” she asked, as we walked over the grass to the water. “If you’d mentioned that earlier I might have suggested another peach beach breeze for courage.”
“I just want to get a closer look at the swan, like the guy at the sanctuary asked,” I said. “He wants to know if Zeus is wounded, and if his wings are clipped.”
“That’s a yes to the wading?” she said. “I notice you brought enough gear for all, but three of us are planning to keep paws on dry land.”
I grinned at her. “Jilly, my friend, it’s a beautiful night for a boat ride, don’t you think? Look at that sunset. It’s as peachy as your umbrella drinks.”
“I don’t see a boat, Ivy. And if you’ve packed an inflatable, just know that I don’t consider that an option. I’ll stand guard from here.”
“Videa said people went rowing, so there must be a boat at the far end, where we haven’t explored. Let’s check if it’s seaworthy.”
She followed me, sharing a grumbled conversation with Keats that I deliberately tuned out. Eventually she raised her voice. “What if the bird is wounded?”
“Amos said the toughest part is grabbing the swan, but then they calm right down when you hug them close. You can make sure Keats and Percy are safe while I do the hugging.”
“We only have an hour or two of light left. This couldn’t wait till morning?”
“Keats said no. You saw his message.”
She squelched after me over increasingly swampy turf. “What will we do with the swan once we’ve caught him? Is there a plan?”
“I’ve got the name of a good avian vet,” I said.
“So you’ll stick the bird in the duffel bag and hope Doug lets us out for a drive?”
“Maybe I’ll steal his Vespa and see if he’s fixed the breach in the fence. I think the straps of the duffel bag will go over my shoulders.”
“Ivy!”
I turned to grin at her. “Kidding, Jilly. Both the avian vet and Amos make house calls. All we’re doing is assessing the situation. We’ve handled much worse together.”
“I’m not so sure of that. We have no idea what’s in that water. Why did all the goldfish die?”
“Good question. But I doubt the swan would stick around if the water were too toxic. Amos said this swamp extends for miles and Zeus could find a way out if he chose. My theory is that he’s hiding something in the bushes. Like an injured bride. Did you know they mate for life and that a bereaved swan can literally pine to death?”
“That’s so sad,” she said, taking the distraction I threw out as bait. “We don’t want him pining to death if there’s anything we can do about it.”
“Exactly. Our visit will not end with his swan song. Amos says he can give Zeus a safe, clean pond, a pretty winged lass, and a happily ever after. Since he’s still eating the grain Videa leaves out, he hasn’t given up on life just yet.”
I watched for the big bird as we circled the pond. Normally he emerged right away when I arrived, but not this time. Maybe he was sicker than he seemed.
When we reached the far end, we found a second dock that was relatively new and stable. Along one side of it, a canoe, a double kayak and a silver rowboat rocked idly on gentle ripples.
“Score!” I said. “We even have a choice, Jilly.”
“If there’s a ‘we’ there’s no choice,” she said. “I would only consider the rowboat.”
“The kayak or canoe would be easier to maneuver in the bush,” I said. “The boat might get stuck and I’d have to jump out and push.”
“Then we’d better gear up. Honestly. I can’t imagine these seniors kayaking out into the marsh.”
“I wouldn’t put it past them. You saw how they moved in town. Many are quite spry.”
“Well, it isn’t safe for them, for us and especially not the pets.”
Keats tried to mumble something, but his teeth were chattering too hard from terror.
“Buddy, you don’t have to come,” I said, unzipping the first duffel bag. “You and Percy can hang right here and wait for us.”
“We can’t leave them and go very far,” Jilly said. “There’s a murderer around, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Good point. Maybe I should run them back to Bridie’s.”
“Or maybe we just shouldn’t go very far. Leave the real search and rescue to Amos.”
I looked at Keats and he tried to still his trembling. He was determined to come with us no matter what it cost him. “All right,” I said. “We’ll stay within shooting distance from the dock.”
“I’d prefer another turn of phrase, but okay,” she said.
Both of us stepped into the hip waders, which turned out to be chest waders that were evidently sized for large men. We tightened the straps over our shoulders but there was nothing we could do about the huge boots attached to them. Then we layered on lifejackets and big yellow slickers.
Jilly groaned. “I suppose we’ll be taking up scuba diving at some point?”
“We’d need pro training for scuba. And skydiving. Maybe that’s part of Edna’s survival seminar no one told me about.”
“She didn’t tell you?” Jilly said. “That’s strange. I assumed you knew.”
“Bridie said it’s by invitation only. So perhaps mine got lost in the mail between o
ur properties.”
“I’m sure it’s an oversight, and I wouldn’t worry about it,” Jilly said. “What’s next?”
What came next was likely to be the hardest part of our expedition. Getting Keats into a coat at any time was difficult, and with all the extra padding, I could barely bend over or move my arms. I really should have led with his lifejacket.
“Let’s keep this simple, buddy. How about you skip your coat ritual of pretending you’re dead? The energy I spend fighting you is energy I need for rowing.”
I was sure he’d see the sense in that, but he collapsed onto his side and stared into the distance, tongue hanging out so far it touched the dock.
“I can’t watch this,” Jilly said. “I’ll take care of Percy.”
By all rights, the cat should have been the one protesting our aquatic expedition. Instead he stepped forward like a marmalade soldier and let Jilly puff and grunt over him till he was strapped into the tiny pink lifejacket that was meant for a Chihuahua. In fact, I could hear a loud purr as I worked around the limp dog.
“Look at Percy, Keats,” I said. “He’s sucking it up like a champ. And in case you didn’t notice, he’s feline. They’re basically allergic to water.”
The strike continued. The dog’s blue eye closed. With my rubber handicap, I was going to pass out and lose the battle by default.
There were clumping footsteps and Jilly bent over the prone dog, too. “Get up, you,” she said. “Or feel the thump of oversized rubber on your derriere.”
The blue eye opened. He knew she wouldn’t but our sweaty faces must have made an impression. After a heavy sigh, he pushed himself onto his belly and then into a wobbly stand.
It was enough to allow the two of us to wrestle him into the lifejacket. Then I groped in the front pocket of my overalls and came up with his leash. At this he gave an indignant yip, but I was adamant. I only wished I had brought Percy’s harness, too.
“Let’s grab the rope off the kayak,” Jilly said. “We can loop it through Percy’s lifejacket.”
“You’re brilliant,” I said.
Untying the kayak, I hauled it onto the bank, and unknotted the rope. Jilly took care of Percy while I got into the rowboat and slipped the heavy wooden oars into place. Keats finally found his inner hero and jumped in without my asking. He moved to the prow and stood with white paws propped up, just as he would on the dashboard of the truck. The trembling abated once he accepted his role as skipper.
Relegated to the seat at the back, Jilly tried to get Percy settled on her lap, but he couldn’t get a grip on the waders or rain slicker. Finally he perched beside her on the seat and she clutched the rope tightly.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said, brushing back stray curls with her free hand. “I’m boiling in this gear. It feels like the Amazon jungle.”
“Looks like it, too,” I said, trying to get the oars to work in tandem.
“You have rowed a boat before, right?” she asked.
“Not to my knowledge. We’re short on lakes in Clover Grove. But how hard could it be?”
She groaned again. “Famous last words.”
I spun the boat once and then straightened out and finally headed into the brush where Zeus usually lurked. There was a beautiful sunset lighting up the pond but the foliage became so dense with vines and hanging moss that it was very dim.
“Good thing a swan is a living beacon,” I said. “But keep your phone ready in case we need the light.”
Before long, the heavy brush started slowing us down. Branches seemed to reach out and grab at us. Jilly crooked up her elbow to protect her eyes.
“Hey, there he is!” I said, spotting the swan floating on the far side of a pool that was about 10 yards long and twice as wide. He was quite still, which suggested his webbed feet were massaging the water just right to hold position. His wings were half up and his orange peak pointed in our direction.
“He looks fine,” Jilly said. “What now? There’s no point trying to capture him if he’s chilling in his own private clearing. He must have wanted some privacy from the prying eyes of the Briars.” After a beat she added, “Don’t we all?”
I glanced over my shoulder at Keats and saw his ears were down and his tail puffed.
“I don’t think Zeus is chilling,” I said. “In fact, I get the sense that he was waiting for us to find him.”
Jilly’s eyes jumped from Keats to Percy, who was puffed around his lifejacket. “Well, something’s going on. No question about that.”
“And now the boat is stuck. I should have brought a machete,” I said. “Edna probably covers this in her apocalyptic survival course, to which I wasn’t invited.”
My friend actually laughed, which broke some of the tension that was as thick as the humid air and hanging moss. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”
“Did I mention seeing her trying to outrun Drama Llama in Lottie’s crystal ball? Her legs were really pumping.”
“A delicious fantasy,” she said. “Now, how are we going to get out of this bind? By the time we go back for tools it’ll be pitch black in here.”
Keats mumbled what sounded like an urgent command to press on.
“I don’t see a way through, buddy,” I said. “And Zeus, you’re not being much help, just sitting there like an ornament. You could at least show us the way.”
The answer came from an unexpected source. Our smallest expedition member simply leapt off the seat onto a hanging bough, pulling the rope out of Jilly’s hand. The tree was long dead but looked alive in an otherworldly way because it was covered with green moss and vines.
“Percy, no!” Jilly’s voice was shrill as she grabbed for the rope. “Come back here right now.”
As always, the cat had a mind of his own. The bright neon pink of his lifejacket bobbed along the bough and when I managed to spin the boat a little with one oar, I saw we could force our way through and follow him.
The real problem came after we penetrated the clearing and Percy reached the end of his bough. He was much higher now and his piteous meows made it clear he was afraid to jump down into the rowboat either for fear of missing his mark or dangling from his rope if it snagged.
“I’ll catch you, Percy,” I said. Settling the oars in the boat, I stood carefully and raised my arms toward the cat. There was a yard-long gap between us and I doubt either of us relished his descent.
Jilly and Keats both gave mumbles of protest, and the former said, “Bad idea, Ivy. If Percy jumps on you, he’s just going to slide off the slicker and it won’t end well. And if you take off the slicker, you’ll get scratched up.”
“Better idea,” I said. “I’ll prop the oar against the bough. The wood is rough enough that he should be able to get a grip with his claws and come down. He’s a master climber.”
It sounded reasonable, and the cat seemed game, but no sooner had he begun his descent than ripples rocked the boat just enough to shove the oar off the branch. Now I was clutching it with Percy dangling above me. I tried to hold the oar steady but despite my best efforts, it swung out and Percy dropped into the water with it.
Jilly screamed, Keats yelped and Percy yowled. I saved my breath to jump over the side while Jilly and Keats braced themselves.
At least the water was warm. It was about five feet deep, although the silt under my hip waders felt ready to suck me to the earth’s core. I swished my arms through the water to keep afloat and rotated till I saw Percy clinging to the floating oar. He didn’t waste any more breath on protests, but those still in the boat did enough vocalizing for all of us.
“We’re fine,” I said. “Totally fine. Keats, calm down. I can practically walk over to get Percy and hand him to you. The bigger question is how will I get back in the boat?”
“One problem at a time,” Jilly said. “Save my cat baby.”
I managed to lift the oar enough that she could grab it without joining me, and Percy scrambled back on board. Jilly pulled in the oar and I l
ooked around for my own ticket out. No way could I risk tipping all of them into the rather pungent pond. Keats would never forgive me.
He peered over the side and mumbled something that sounded like, “You’re on your own, here.”
“I know.” I floundered and flopped. All the gear had seemed like a great idea back on shore, but it was a decided hindrance now. “Wait. I’ve got an idea. The trunk of the tree Percy used has knobby bits where the branches broke off. Like little stairs. I can climb up and get into the boat from there. Jilly, can you shove the boat a little closer?”
“You’re going to climb that tree in rubber boots?”
“Piece of cake,” I said, wallowing over to the tree trunk. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve faced. Not by a long shot.”
It wasn’t the best thing I’d faced, either. The knobs that had seemed substantial barely accommodated the boot tips. But once I was able to grab the bough Percy had used, things went much better. Soon I was a few inches over the boat, which Jilly had maneuvered into position.
My landing left much to be desired, but we didn’t capsize. There would be bruises on my arms and back, and probably on Keats’ soul, which I firmly believed he had.
“You okay?” Jilly asked, as I panted in the space between the two front seats.
“Sure, except for feeling like a flipped turtle.” I scrabbled around till I could get a grip on the seat and then pulled myself up. “What a fabulous workout. It’s a good thing farming keeps me fit.”
“I’m glad you still have your sense of humor,” she said, tucking Percy into her rain slicker. “Mine drowned back there.”
“All good,” I said, slipping the oars back in place. “Now where’s the swan?”
I glanced out over the clearing and that’s when I saw it…
The worst thing I’d faced.
Ever.
Hands down.