by Ami Diane
“What makes you think there’s a treasure?”
She tensed. “Don’t all pirates have treasure?”
“Do they? I don’t believe this ship ever carried any. But believe me, people have tried looking for some. They think the pirates who survived the wreck offloaded their goods and buried them around these parts. You should’ve seen this place a few months back. Looked like a giant gopher had come through here. Your two friends did the most damage.”
“The senior citizen brigade? Hmm.”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“I wasn’t.” They meandered a few feet. “Still, a few gold coins could go a long way. Not here so much, but if we flashed near a big city or something.”
Will didn’t argue.
They continued their trek, chatting about female scientists, Keystone’s economy, the stalled energy project, and who had killed Charles.
A few hours later, the picture of the map on Ella’s phone had dozens of bright red, albeit shaky, dots around a portion of the town. They were cutting across Six’s open fields, shooting furtive glances at the homestead in the distance. Smoke curled from the outlaw’s chimney and disappeared into the gloom.
“Not bad for a morning’s work.” Ella tucked her phone into her pocket. “Few more of these trips, and we’ll be done I think.”
Will glanced at his watch. “Only a few hours until the potluck which is good. I’m famished.”
Ella swore. “Why did you have to remind me?” Her feet began to drag, carving up the mud.
“Come on, it won’t be so bad.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not on appetizer duty.” Despite her best efforts at the last two potlucks, Flo had demoted Ella from pilfering desserts to light appetizers. “At least I don’t have to deal with Sally. Who knew a little girl could be so…”
“Mean?”
“Sure. I was going to say so much like the spawn of Satan.”
“Hmm, that might be a more accurate descriptor. Once, she bit my finger for telling her she had cute pigtails.”
“Sounds about right.”
Ella stood in the foyer, discarding her weather accouterments, as the rumble of Will’s pickup died away. She wandered to the kitchen to scrape together a late lunch. Instead of food, however, she fell upon a disconcerting sight.
Wink and Flo bent over the kitchen table, studying a crude drawing of what appeared to be building schematics. Either that or it was an abstract drawing of a sunset; Ella couldn’t be sure.
In the middle of the room, on the island, Chester licked various parts of fur that weren’t covered by his ballerina outfit, a pile of dried fruit beside him. At least, she hoped it was dried fruit.
Ella shooed him away, thinking of the fit Rose would have if she saw the varmint up there. Her attempts were not only ignored but drew a diatribe of chittering from the squirrel.
“Same to you, too, buddy.” Ella flipped him the bird.
After she downed a glass of water and poured stale coffee into a cup, she steeled herself then approached the table to see what fresh hell the two stooges were up to.
“Oh no. Is that a layout of the church?”
Flo nodded, causing her bouffant to tip at a dangerous angle. Ella wondered at the muscles required to keep the woman’s head upright, concluding the woman had to have the neck of a bodybuilder.
“You’re late,” Wink said, her focus taken up entirely by the map. They usually had a tactical meeting before each potluck to strategize the gladiator-style event.
“I was with Will. Are those cookies?” The chair scraped across the floor as Ella sat down. Her hand was enclosing around a cookie when Wink slapped it away.
“Pumpkin cookies. Have you even had lunch yet?” She scooted a plate of ham and cheese sandwiches over and pulled the cookies away. “Now, focus.”
Properly chided, Ella reluctantly grabbed a sandwich. She could usually gauge the level of crazy she would have to endure every other Sunday by the kind of snacks Wink brought to their meeting. A wizard in the kitchen, Wink usually focused her energy on the dish she’d bring to the church. That energy tended to spill over into extravagant meals or snacks for their strategy session. Once, she’d even gone so far as to bring lamb chops with a balsamic reduction.
Therefore, when Ella eyed the sandwiches, she did so with dread.
“What’s going on?” She’d really hoped that her mapping of the town would’ve taken longer, thereby forcing her to miss this part.
“Change of plans,” Wink said. “You’re back on desserts.”
“What? Why?” At first, it had been slightly humiliating to be assigned appetizers, but she’d quickly gotten over it, realizing there would be less pressure—and fewer body blows.
“‘Cause Gladys is bringing gnocchi with sage-butter sauce.”
“I’m not following.”
“Gertie broke her hip,” Flo said in exasperation as if this explained everything.
“Okay, now I just have more questions.”
Wink snapped her fingers. “Focus, El.”
The two older women stared at the paper like they were reading tea leaves, and their lives depended upon the answer they’d find. Meanwhile, Ella chewed quietly, still clueless as to what was happening.
“We could bring in a ringer,” Flo suggested.
“But who? Whoever we called in would have to be quick enough to beat Benedict and able to withstand a few blows from Shorty’s cane.”
“William.”
“Oh no,” Ella said around a mouthful of cookie, feeling the need to step in. “You’re not roping Will into this insanity.”
“But—” Flo protested.
“No. Figure something else out.”
The woman glared at Ella. Then, she exchanged a look with Wink. “I could deploy Junior.”
Wink was slow to respond, but eventually, she nodded. “That could work.”
Ella paused mid-chew. “I’m afraid to ask, but who or what is Junior?”
“Crowd buster.”
“Is this anything like your Ghost Buster? More importantly, and I probably should’ve led with this question, can it put holes in walls?”
Flo snorted. “I should think not. Junior’s a crowd dispersion device.”
“Mild, very mild,” Wink added.
Ella nearly got whiplash turning her head in Wink’s direction. “You’re on board with this? Have you learned nothing? You know, you seem like the wiser, less dangerous one, but sometimes, I think you’re just as crazy.”
Wink fought a smile. “I’ve seen Junior at work. It’s more like a stink bomb than anything else.”
“Bomb?” Ella fought to keep her voice from becoming shrill, but it sounded like she’d sucked helium from a balloon. “You mean, like her smoke bomb that split my eardrums and blew out the windows in your diner?”
Flo jutted out her chin in defense. “That was a miscalculation of gun powder.”
Ella swore under her breath. “Just answer this: is Junior an incendiary device in any way?”
“No.”
Ella waited.
“Well… there’s the tiny discharge required to release the gas, but that’s it.” Flo threw her hands up. “Quit being a baby about this. I’m either using Junior or we’re getting Will involved.”
Ella picked at the chunk of cookie on her napkin, most of her appetite gone. Finally, she sighed. “Just how stinky is this bomb?”
Chapter 7
ELLA STOOD ALONG the sidelines inside the church for the town’s bimonthly potluck, her attention not on the rows of tables the length of a football field but on Wink’s outfit.
Her boss had been talking for five minutes straight, but Ella hadn’t been paying attention.
“You clear on the plan, El?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, sure. Beat little Sally to a pulp then grab desserts, making sure I get extra helpings of peach cobbler. But can we talk about what’s going on here.” She gestured fr
om the woman’s head—which was currently covered by a helmet with spikes—to her spike-covered shoes.
“Great idea, right?” Wink turned with pride, showing Ella her backside, probably in hopes that Ella would appreciate it.
“If you want to look like a porcupine, sure.” Ella gingerly poked one of the metallic-looking skewers and was relieved to discover it was malleable like rubber. At least no one would be getting flayed tonight—well, not by the diner owner’s doing. Ella had spotted someone in chainmail swinging a flail.
Wink seemed to read her mind. “Yeah, Chapman outlawed sharp objects.”
“I don’t think everyone got the memo. And won’t people suspect it’s fake?” Ella asked before she thought more about it. “Oh, right. They’re not going to want to risk the assumption that you’re following the rules.”
Around the room, she spotted baseball bats, water balloons, and at least one person brandishing brass knuckles. “Well, at least he drew the line somewhere.”
Acting mayor, barber, and armchair weatherman Sal approached the podium at the front. The room stilled.
“You ready?” Wink whispered.
A small whimper climbed Ella’s throat as she slid the football helmet she’d borrowed from Jimmy down over her head. Draped across her body was a bag that wiggled at her hip.
“Be careful with—”
“I will.”
Wink nodded and dropped into a runner’s stance. “Look alive.”
On the other side of Ella, someone made the sign of the cross on their body.
“You really need a new saying,” she told Wink as she lowered to a crouch, cradling the bag against her side.
The last of her words were drowned out by Sal’s voice thundering around the sanctuary, a vicious grin spread across his face.
“Let’s eat.”
Pandemonium broke out.
Ella sprinted for the dessert section. After vaulting over a man who’d tripped, she reached the first dessert table in record time.
With lightning movements, she scooped up a plate, then she used her arm to sweep a half-dozen cookies onto it. Her eyes combed the mountain of food, searching for the cobbler. She was taking too long. According to Wink’s timeframe, she should’ve been dishing it out within the first thirty seconds.
She began to frantically grab treats. Cheesecakes with raspberry syrup. Lemon meringue pie. Shortbread. Snickerdoodles. Donuts.
Where was that blasted cobbler?
Ella spun on her heel, losing a cookie in the process, as she searched another table nearby. Like in a romance movie, when the main character spots the love interest for the first time, the crowd parted, revealing the cobbler. It glowed with an almost ethereal light, like mana from heaven—but she supposed that was just the halogen bulbs overhead.
Ella froze.
Sweet, innocent-looking Sally stood beside the table, her blonde braids quivering as she dished out servings of cobbler onto her plate like it was going out of style.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Ella rolled her shoulders back and plunged into the fray.
This is what all those middle school lunches in the cafeteria were for, she told herself. Training.
A water balloon whizzed past her head, narrowly missing her ear. Someone nearby yelled, followed by a noise that might’ve been a bone breaking, but she couldn’t allow herself to get distracted. She had a mission.
Queen’s Another One Bites the Dust played through her head as she ran, doing her best to keep her plate steady.
Her feet slid to a stop when she reached the table. Little Sally’s orb-like eyes blinked up at Ella.
“‘I’ve been waiting for you, Obi-Wan. We meet again, at last.’,” Ella quoted. She cocked her head to the side. “Wait, no. That’s not right. That would make me Darth Vader.” She shook her head. Time for a different strategy. “Hey, look!” She pointed over the little girl’s shoulder. “Zac Efron!”
The girl didn’t so much as bat an eyelash.
“No? Uh… James Dean?”
Sally squinted at Ella’s face. “You look like a clown.”
Blood rushed to Ella’s overly rouged cheeks, surprised the girl could see her makeup through the guard on the football helmet.
“Yeah, well, you look like one of the twins from The Shining, which I realize as I say that, you’ve probably never seen, but trust me, that was a burn.”
Sally turned away and resumed shoveling cobbler onto her plate.
“Come on, how much do you need?” Ella whined. She was jostled aside as others grabbed at the plates on the table.
Amongst them, Lou used his generous frame and stomach to maneuver next to Sally. His next move, Ella wagered, would probably become one of his biggest regrets in life.
The serving spoon was currently in the sticky fingers of the little hellion, so he reached over with his ink-stained, thick hands. As quick as a flash of lightning, Sally whacked him with the metal serving spoon, then she aimed a well-placed kick between the mechanic’s legs.
He whimpered and dropped like a sack of potatoes, and his plate rolled across the hardwood floor, spilling food everywhere.
With a placid expression made of porcelain, Sally resumed shoveling the cobbler onto her plate.
Ella ground her teeth. “Why not just take the whole dish instead?” She stepped over Lou who was now rolling around, grabbing his nether regions and spitting vile curses at Sally.
All across the tables, the desserts were dwindling.
“That does it,” Ella muttered to herself.
Time for plan C. They’d come up with a contingency strategy in the most likely event she failed to overtake the young girl.
After setting her plate on the table, Ella unzipped the bag at her side. She lifted it close to her lips and whispered, “Operation Valkyrie.”
A gray head poked out. Chester’s nose twitched, and his whiskers quivered. She lifted the squirrel out and pointed his body towards the cobbler.
Wink had trained him well. The varmint leaped through the air like a furry Superman and landed in the cobbler with a splat.
Ella plunged her hand into her pocket and pulled out a handful of small objects, before tossing them onto what was left of the dessert.
The little girl was too busy screaming to notice what Ella had thrown.
“Gross! Get it out, get it out!”
Chester sat on a gelatinous slice of peach cobbler and scratched behind his ears.
Casually, Ella said, “Chester, that’s not nice. Let the poor girl get her food.” She touched her shoulder, and the squirrel climbed up her arm and perched himself near her ear. “Oh, hey, I think he left you a treat.” Ella pointed at the cobbler. Several small, round “droppings” had been left behind.
Sally shrieked again and turned to run, abandoning her dessert plate. As she did, a well-aimed water balloon hit her in the back. It splattered in a burst of bloody red color over her dress. Ella guessed whoever had thrown the balloon had added food coloring to the mix.
The girl dodged through the crowd, alternating between crying and screaming.
“How about that? Now she really does look like a character from a Steven King novel.”
Chester’s whiskers tickled her ear.
“Great job, but don’t think this makes us friends. I’m still loyal to Fluffy.”
After allowing herself a satisfied grin, Ella helped Lou to his feet then fended off the vultures already descending on Sally’s forgotten food.
Ella scooped three generous servings of cobbler from the serving dish, taking a few of Chester’s treasures as well. The squirrel crawled back into his bag and curled up, looking rather cute she begrudgingly admitted.
Her mission accomplished, she wandered until she located Flo and Wink. They were sharing a table with Will, Jimmy, and Rose.
Her chair scraped across the wood, and she dropped the football helmet and shoulder pads on the floor next to Wink’s armor. As she sat, she caught Flo’s protruding lip. “What happened to y
ou?”
“I didn’t get to use Junior.”
“Such a shame,” Ella said without a hint of remorse.
“What happened to you?” Flo retorted.
“How do you mean?” Ella placed the peach cobbler onto the table then began the task of fishing out the dark pellets with a spoon. She popped one in her mouth, drawing a gasp from Rose.
“Ella!”
“Relax, it’s raisins.”
Jimmy eyed the dish a moment before shrugging and stabbing his fork into the dessert. Will followed suit.
“I mean,” Flo said, pulling Ella’s attention back to her question, “what happened there?” She pointed at Ella’s makeup. “Were you necking with a clown or something?”
Ella picked up an empty plate and began taking her share of the bounty Flo and Wink had gathered. “At least I don’t look like a descendant of Father Time and the Crypt Keeper.”
Wink dug a spoon into the monstrous serving of cobbler. “How’d it go?”
“Fairly well. I had to deploy Operation Valkyrie, but it worked.” Gently, she shrugged off the bag and laid it on the table. Chester climbed out a moment later and quickly located the pile of peach-covered raisins. “That little blonde-haired minion kicked Lou before I could get rid of her, though.”
“Is he alright?” Will asked.
Ella made a weighing motion. “In a manner of speaking. Let’s just say, he won’t be having kids anytime soon.”
“Might be a good thing.”
Ella couldn’t disagree.
As the evening wore on, the smacking of food mixed with conversation and laughter. The latest murder had put a slight damper on the festivities, evident mostly in snippets of comments regarding the mayoral race.
After they’d made a considerable dent in their plates, Flo dug a thick elbow into Wink’s side, drawing a hiss that would’ve made Fluffy proud.
“What?”
Flo nodded at something behind Ella. Turning, Ella spotted Sal moving from table to table, shaking hands and smiling so much his cheeks twitched.
“He’s working the crowd. You gotta compete with him. Go, press the flesh.” Flo nudged Wink, nearly shoving her off her chair.