Three Woofs for the Dead, White and Blue

by Laura Quinn

  “My pleasure. If you’re going to be around for a while, we could see if there’s any pie left. Are the tents still open?”

  “They’re probably closing soon,” Claire said. “Everyone leaves after the fireworks, unless you’re invited to the swanky after-party, that is.”

  “You can stay on our after-party barge. We have a great time packing up, then I double-check that everything is clear.”

  “Tempting, but I better get back to my friends. They’re watching Baron and he’s probably wondering where I am.”

  “Another day, then.”

  “I’ll buy you a slice at the farmers market tomorrow,” Claire said as she hopped off the boat. “It’s the least I can do.”

  Nick gave a thumbs-up and turned to begin the cleanup. Claire stopped to watch the ceremony taking place at the yacht. Kim Bancroft opened the striped box and slipped on the white gloves, hand-painted with stars and stripes. Mike handed the bottle of champagne to her and the captain pointed to the bow, where she could strike the ship without leaving lasting damage.

  “I christen thee Fourth at North Party Central,” Kim announced, and smashed the bottle into an explosion of glittering shards. She pulled off the gloves and threw them in her bag, handing it to the steward to add to the cart with the others. He wheeled the cargo up the ramp once everyone was onboard, then pulled up the gangway. The airhorn sounded three times, and the ship was off.

  Claire could hear Lana’s voice on the speakers, introducing Bunny Marshall. The squeaky voice that followed eliminated any doubts as to her nickname. Claire snapped a few more pictures and called Marti.

  “I’m on my way. How’s Baron?”

  “He’s fine,” Marti said. “He even calmed down my monsters while we drove around. I’ve got the air conditioner on high, waiting for you.”

  “Perfect,” Claire said. “I’m going to take a shortcut though the tents. It should be empty there now. See you soon.”

  Claire put the phone away and started running down the pier. She slowed as she rounded the corner with the VIP tent, still leery of the ropes. She smiled as she noticed flashlights flickering inside the large tent and considered calling out “security” to tease the scavenging seniors, but thought better of it. She certainly didn’t want the holiday to become a fatal Fourth.

  Chapter 5

  Tuesday, July 5th

  Helen Rollins looked like death, emerging from a cloud of smoke from the sputtering Rollins Rental truck in the alley. The usually spry woman plodded towards Claire in an oversized t-shirt and sweats, with dark sunglasses emphasizing her pallid face. She winced when her assistants slammed the door shut.

  “With so many the events this weekend, all my trucks are in use. We had to resurrect this dinosaur to help collect the tents from Fourth Fest this morning,” Helen said in a hoarse voice.

  “I’ll bet you’ll be ready for a monthlong cruise after this month. Do you have time for a cup of coffee?”

  “Make mine black with a side of aspirin; I’m still recovering from last night. Unlike some people, though, I dragged myself out of bed to meet my obligations.”

  “It looked like a wild party; I’m not surprised there are some late-risers today,” Claire said.

  “I’ll show the boys where to set up everything, then I’ll take you up on your offer.” Helen consulted her clipboard to review the Posh Pup’s order. Baron greeted his guest with crumbs under his snout, evidence of his quality control efforts with the latest batch.

  “You better go upstairs,” Claire said, offering another treat as a bribe. He trotted upstairs to his bed in the private apartment, glancing back with pitiful eyes.

  “It’s not safe for you down there,” she explained to the sulking dog before closing the door. “Those guys are going to be wheeling in all sorts of tables and chairs, and they might not see you. I’ll bring you down as soon as they’re done.”

  Helen stepped off the elevator with one of the young men and showed him where to set up the furniture in the all-purpose room. He struggled with the first table, causing his boss to snap at him.

  “Tom, I’ve shown you three times how to assemble this. It really isn’t that difficult. My grandson could do it, and he’s in kindergarten.”

  “Sorry, I was up kinda late last night,” he confessed. “I’ve got it now.”

  “Good,” Helen said. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

  She joined Claire downstairs to commiserate over coffee.

  “I shouldn’t have been so short with him,” Helen said. She ran her hands through her salt-and-pepper hair. “I just hired him last week, and he’s a good kid, but not very coordinated. I had to pull him off the park job this morning or they never would have finished. He tore his shirt taking down the first tent, then cut his finger when he tried to tape the damaged pole. I have to give him credit, though, he is determined to work.”

  “Get him an iced macchiato and he’ll probably forget all about it,” Claire advised. “I’m sure he realizes how much pressure you’re under with all the holiday parties, weddings and graduations.”

  “And family reunions, and charity events, and so on and so on,” Helen added. “Thanks again for letting us set up early; this helps balance the schedule.”

  “It works out perfectly for me. I can get everything set for the social well ahead of time. Do you have many more deliveries today?”

  “Only seven today, which should have been a breeze compared to the rest of the week, but I had to take over this morning’s committee debriefing since Kim was M.I.A. She was the one who scheduled it at that ridiculous time, then she couldn’t be bothered to show up for it. What really pissed me off was that she didn’t have the decency to call.”

  “I’m waiting for a call from her myself, to see if she has a space with electricity available. I want to bring your ice cream cart to the market today.”

  “No need. If you plug it in now, the cold plate will be charged enough to keep your ice cream frozen for several hours. Here, I’ll show you how.” The two walked over to the polka-dotted wagon and Helen demonstrated the charging process. “Maybe you should offer this to Kim when you see her, to cool her sex drive. I don’t know why Ken puts up with her.”

  “She is a terrible flirt,” Claire conceded. “She was trading innuendos with some young guy in the tent yesterday, but I figured it was just an ego boost.”

  “Well he certainly was boosting something last night. She was barely on board a few minutes before she slipped out of sight. Coincidentally, we didn’t see Mr. Muscles again either. They’re probably still screwing in some hotel room today,” Helen said. “Listen to me, I sound like one of those damn gossips.”

  “Far from it. There’s nothing wrong with a little venting,” Claire assured. “Here, have an apricot Danish, guaranteed to make you feel better.”

  Helen took a bite and relaxed. “These are delicious. Did you make them?”

  “No, I got these from Viktor this morning. He’s been turning out apricot goodies since he bought a bushel from Kyle at the farmer’s market last week.”

  “I saw Viktor’s wife when I was overseeing the Langdon-Reeve delivery. Anne looked as frazzled as I felt.”

  “They just finished that huge cake for the fest last night and Viktor said they have six weddings this weekend.”

  “And yet, I’ll bet Lydia got them to do hers for free.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, sure. Lydia gives us all the same speech, that it’s for charity and shouldn’t we do our part as well? If it weren’t such a busy time, I wouldn’t mind, but it’s my peak season.”

  “Maybe you’ll be paid in good karma?”

  “I can’t complain, really. The Reeves were always such good clients over the years and since Alfred’s death, Lydia’s really thrown herself into philanthropy,” Helen said. “Plus, she gives me a bottle of her homemade kirsch every Christmas, which is like liquid dessert with a kick.”

  Barbara arrived at the back door and sai
d hello to her old friend. Claire left them to catch up while she went upstairs to get Baron and check off the inventory sheet. She sent the team off with the remaining apricot pastries to enjoy on the road.

  “It was good to see Helen again,” Barbara said. “She hasn’t been to the garden club meetings in months. I told her to hire a manager to help her. I hope she listens.”

  “As long as she doesn’t try to steal you,” Claire said. “I’d be sunk.”

  “Not a chance, my dear. Actually, I think she could use someone of the male persuasion. She seems lonely.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. She needs to cut back on work and find someone to go out and have fun with. Do you think she might like Henry? They might just balance each other out. Or, maybe Stan? He’s definitely the opposite of her ex-husband”

  “You inherited the match-making bug from your mother,” Barbara said. “I don’t think Carrie or Kyle have a clue that you had more than a business relationship in mind when you introduced them.”

  “Aren’t they cute together? Kyle needs someone to bring him out of his shell and Carrie could use his calming influence. I predict romance will brew soon.”

  “That may be, but for now, you need to focus on matching up this to-do list with checkmarks.” Barbara chuckled at her own joke.

  They divvied up the remaining tasks, with Barbara in the office and Claire in the kitchen. She rolled out the peanut butter dough and placed the cutout circles on inverted muffin tins to make edible bowls. Next on her list was the graham cracker cookie base for smores. Honey and ginger aromas spilled out from the ovens, arousing Baron’s interest.

  “You always know when a batch is ready for sampling,” Claire said to her quality control officer. She filled one of the cooled cookie bowls with scoops of blueberry and cherry ice cream, drizzled with vanilla sauce. After snapping pictures in the white box, borrowed from Kendall’s photography studio, she presented the sundae to Baron. He posed before diving in, but Claire waited to post the images, knowing she would fall into the quicksand that was social media.

  “It’s nearly three o’clock,” Barbara announced. “You better get going, unless you want to keep Baron here. I’ll be happy to watch him while you’re at the market.”

  “He would love that, but he has a big day tomorrow,” Claire said. “I’ll take him with me to drop off the wagon and treats, then I’ll take him home. When I come back, I’ll run the ice cream cart over. Can you load it with an assortment of flavors?”

  Claire drove the short distance to the farmer’s market, set up along the tree-lined street in front of the town hall. She loaded up her wagon filled with baskets, products and flyers, and headed towards the check-in area. She noticed the police chief was talking to the volunteers behind the booth. Baron sniffed the air enthusiastically, directing them to the organic meat stand.

  “Hi Stan,” Claire said. Baron put on his best begging face. “I better pick up a pack of your bison jerky snacks for a certain someone.”

  “Ah, my favorite customer,” the butcher said. “Is it okay if I give him a few samples?”

  “Of course, just don’t let him con you out of your whole supply.”

  Stan pulled out a cube of aged sirloin and offered it to Baron, who gently took it from his hand. “He has better manners than most of my customers.” Baron accepted a cube of smoked turkey next.

  “What’s going on with Chief Pete?” Claire asked. “Are they cracking down on food licenses?”

  “I don’t know. He got here a few minutes ago and called all the staff over. Maggie ran off, looking pretty upset.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out. I was on my way over there to find out where my stand is, but Baron took us here first.”

  Stan gave a handful of shaved ham to Baron as a parting gift. Claire walked over to the still-unmanned information booth. As she waited, she filled a collapsible bowl with water for her companion. Johana Schmidt beckoned Claire over to her cheese stand across the aisle.

  “How would my most adorable customer like a sample of Butterkäse?” Baron offered a friendly paw in exchange for a selection of cheese samples.

  “What’s going on over there?” Claire asked.

  “Kim Bancroft is dead,” Johana whispered.

  “What?”

  “I couldn’t get all the details, but Chief Pete came to deliver the news to the staff personally. Kim was the market’s chairperson, you know.”

  “Oh my God! Do they know what happened?”

  “I don’t think so. I was reading his lips until he turned to comfort Maggie. I think he said Kim was found on that yacht a few hours ago.”

  “Are you sure she’s dead? I mean maybe she was passed out or something. I heard it was quite a booze cruise.”

  “No, I distinctly read the word dead. That’s when Maggie collapsed.”

  “I can’t believe it. She was so full of life last night.”

  “So I heard,” Johana said, slipping another cheese cube to her four-pawed customer. “We were all wondering where she was, since she’s usually the first one here. There were plenty of rumors going around, but who would have ever thought this?”

  “It’s unbelievable. She seemed to be in perfect health, and only in her late forties, I’d guess,” Claire said. “Do you think they’ll close the market?”

  “I doubt it. With the holiday, they’re expecting big crowds today. I think that’s why they’re keeping it hush-hush.”

  “Well, I better go and find a space, then,” Claire said. “Thanks for letting me know about poor Kim.”

  “Don’t tell anyone I told you. People will wonder how I knew, and I like to keep my lipreading secret.”

  “Mum’s the word, though I’m sure news will be swirling soon enough. A rolling rumor gathers no moss in this town.”

  Halfway through the market, Claire found an open spot and inquired at the neighboring booth, manned by the Golden Oaks seniors.

  “Hi, I’m Claire Noble and this is Baron. We’re opening the Posh Pup.”

  An older gentleman came out to pet Baron, while his wife talked with Claire. “Agnes told us all about you. I’m Jean and this is John.”

  “I’m John.”

  “I just told her that,” Jean said. “She said you wanted to buy some of our top-quality handmade items for your shop. We made a sample for your dog, so you can check out our merchandise.” She pulled out a red-white-and-blue ribbon elastic collar with glittery stars at the tips. “On the house.”

  “On the house,” John said, passing the collar to Claire. “What do you think?”

  “I can’t believe you made this so quickly. It’s fantastic!” She showed it to Baron, who sniffed it thoroughly. He sat down and offered his paw to John. “Looks like he approves. I’ll take as many as you can make, in a range of sizes.”

  “We would need a cash deposit for supplies,” John said. “Right, Jean?”

  “Yes, a cash deposit. How about fifty dollars?”

  “That’s fair,” Claire said. “But can I pay you tomorrow? I didn’t bring much cash.”

  “No problem,” Jean said. “Agnes is going to town, so she can stop by.”

  “Tell her to stop by any time,” Claire said. She noticed the pair was cutting out pictures from the society pages and took a few moments to admire the over-the-top patriotic couture ensembles modeled the previous night.

  “We make knock-offs of those fancy, frilly things and sell them online,” John said. He pointed to the example of a pink shawl, beautifully embroidered with pastel flowers, that Lydia wore over blue sequined slacks.

  “Designer-inspired replicas,” Jean corrected. “Agnes likes to keep this on the low-down.”

  Claire winked her compliance. “You wouldn’t happen to know if this space is available, would you? This is my first time, and I got here too late for the vendor meeting.”

  “For you, it is,” Jean said. “We had to chase out those nuns last week when they tried to sneak in crafts to sell with their tarts
.”

  “Chased them clear out,” John said. “That was Agnes’s doing. She told Kim they refused to pay the sales tax they collected.”

  “That was the nail in their coffin. This board burns through funds faster than a wildfire,” Jean added.

  “Nurse Anita was pretty disappointed about it though,” John said. “She drives us here every week, and loved to fill up on their free pastry samples. They were delicious, I must say.”

  “And your rising cholesterol was another reason we had to get them moved,” Jean said. “Anyway, if one of those volunteers gives you any grief, tell her that we told you this is your spot. It gets great traffic.”

  She thanked the pair and set up her baskets while Baron slept off his indulgences under the tent. Once the first load was set, she and Baron jogged back to the car and sped back to her house. In a whirlwind stop, she talked to and fed the cats, put down fresh bowls of water, settled Baron into his bed, and spritzed herself with lavender spray to mask the sweat. She tried calling Marti again, but had to leave a message about the village president’s demise.

  Chapter 6

  Racing back to the shop, Claire picked up the ice cream cart and headed back to the market. Running caused the bells to ring continuously, attracting plenty of attention from the street. The market had just opened, and the large influx of customers complicated navigation.

  John greeted the chiming arrival at the stand, handing her twelve dollars. “We saw that you weren’t here yet, so I took the liberty of handling your sales. I took out the fifty dollars for your deposit and a modest commission for myself.”

  “For us,” Jean called out from behind her stand. “Stay there for a minute, John. I want to talk to Claire.”

  Jean’s eyes gleamed as she broke the news about Kim’s death. Claire pretended to be shocked as the senior reporter provided additional details, all learned from the grandniece of her neighbor’s cousin, who dates Maggie, the market’s treasurer.