Shelley Freydont - Celebration Bay 03 - Independence Slay Page 6

  Not unless the killer was also one of the reenactors, dressed in military garb. The man certainly couldn’t have walked into his own bayonet. And besides, if he was supposed to be the ghost, why did he have a bayonet at all? And what were both of them doing on the roof when it should have been Henry Gallantine?

  “Liv, we’re here.”

  “What? Oh.”

  The Sheriff’s Office was a utilitarian building built on a section of rolling hill, with a well-lit parking lot large enough to accommodate at least forty vehicles. There were only a handful of cars in the lot, and Ted found a spot right in front of the main entrance.

  They met Reverend Schorr on his way inside. Phillip Schorr was pastor of the First Presbyterian Church where Liv had attended services with her landladies. He was also the director of the town’s community center. He was young for a pastor, Liv thought. Mid-thirties, a dynamic speaker, and a kind man. And his slightly longish hair and his boyish charm helped fill the pews each Sunday.

  Tonight he looked a bit incongruous with his clerical collar sticking out from the opening of a bright-red polo shirt.

  “I got here as soon as I heard,” he told them. “Leo wouldn’t hurt a soul. There’s been a terrible mistake.”

  Liv was glad he’d come. Maybe he could explain why Leo wanted to ask the ghost for money to give to the community center. He would be a respected advocate. And right now it looked like Leo could use all the allies they could muster.

  The three of them walked inside and stopped at the sign-in desk. The desk sergeant sent them straight through to Bill’s office.

  Liv was surprised to see Leo sitting at a rectangular table drinking a soda and helping himself to a box of cookies.

  Silas Lark was also there. He came over to meet the three as they entered. He was a small man with thinning dark hair, mild mannered, but he took no prisoners according to Miss Edna. Liv had seen him in action. She was glad he appeared to be representing Leo—if the young man needed representing, which she ardently hoped he wouldn’t.

  Liv leaned over to whisper to Ted. “Where are his parents?”

  Ted frowned. “Tell you later.”

  Pastor Schorr went straight over to the table and said with a smile, “I hear you’ve been having some adventures tonight, Leo.”

  Leo shrugged, looking contrite. “I wanted to talk to the ghost.”

  Schorr placed a comforting hand on Leo’s shoulder. “Now, you know, son, that there’s only one ghost and that’s the Holy Ghost and he loves all his children.”

  Leo nodded, but he frowned, as if he weren’t sure. Liv didn’t know what was different about Leo. He was slow in the way he moved, the way he talked, the way he thought, though he went to high school with the other local teenagers.

  “You know you’re safe with God?”

  Leo nodded.

  Liv thought that was all well and good, but if the person who had murdered Rundle and had attacked Leo thought Leo may have recognized him, the boy would probably need a little more get-down-and-get-dirty earthly protection.

  Which made her think of Chaz Bristow, something that was happening more often the longer he stayed away from town. He’d taken Leo and some of the other kids out fishing more than once. Any other man would call it mentoring. Chaz said it was a pain in the butt, but it was the only way they would stop pestering him.

  “So, you don’t have to worry about any other ghosts.”

  Leo shook his head.

  Liv didn’t think it would be so easy. Leo had feared for his life up there on the roof.

  “Is Leo eighteen?” she asked Ted.

  Ted nodded, tight-lipped. So if it came to it, he would be tried as an adult. She looked over at the boy happily separating the two sides of the cookies and licking out the cream filling before eating the outsides.

  She didn’t for a minute think he’d killed Jacob Rundle. But she’d only met him a few times and those times were when Whiskey had been with her. Boy and dog had bonded over the “Hallelujah Chorus” last December. Now they were fast friends. Of course, Whiskey was Mr. Congeniality.

  On the other hand, he knew a bad guy when he smelled him, and he liked Leo. Could dogs testify in court?

  Bill came in a few seconds later. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long, but I stayed to ask Hildy a few questions.”

  Leo looked up and actually smiled at the sheriff; there was a chocolate ring around his mouth from the cookies, and in spite of his size he looked so young that Liv longed to protect him, which was strange, since she didn’t have a maternal bone in her body—not yet anyway.

  Ted pulled Bill aside before he got two steps into the room. “Are you charging him?”

  “Not at this point. I don’t think he’s a flight risk, and all the evidence is circumstantial so far. We’ll know more after the tests come back from the state lab.”

  Which could take months, Liv thought. She glanced at Ted and knew he was thinking the same thing. Plenty of time to find the real killer and just hope to heaven it didn’t turn out to be Leo.

  They each gave their version of what had happened that night and then were sent home. Leo was released into the custody of Reverend Schorr, though how adept the young bachelor would be at caring for the teenager, “gentle soul” or not, was anybody’s guess.

  Silas Lark and Ted had a short conversation on the sidewalk after they left the station. Liv gave them their privacy because she knew Ted would tell her what was said, and she didn’t want to cramp the lawyer’s style.

  After almost a year, she was still considered an outsider. Not in the day-to-day happenings, but when things got dicey and the town drew together. She didn’t feel too bad; BeBe had lived in Celebration Bay for twelve years and she was still considered a newbie.

  “What do you make of Leo’s story?” Liv asked as she and Ted were driving back to town.

  “Well, if I didn’t know Leo—and really, I haven’t had much interaction with him—I would say it’s pretty farfetched.” He slowed down at a crossroad and looked both ways before proceeding.

  “But I’ve never heard of him being in any kind of trouble. He’s liked by the other kids, except for the bullies of course. He spends a lot of time at the community center. I think he lives with a single mother and several siblings.”

  “You think? Don’t you know?” she asked half-teasingly. Ted was Gossip Central, he generally knew everything about everybody, and it seemed to Liv that he didn’t even have to try. The weird part was that nobody knew much about him.

  He wasn’t secretive; he just didn’t talk about his past or his personal life. And where that would usually run up red flags for Liv, it didn’t with Ted. He was a man unto himself. A gentleman—intelligent, dependable—and he loved her dog.

  “Okay,” Liv said, bringing her mind back to Leo’s dilemma. “He really does believe in ghosts?”

  “Seems so.”

  “And he really thinks there is a treasure.”

  “Yes. You saw his face when Rundle was talking about it out in the yard.”

  She had. “Do you believe in the treasure?”

  Ted cut her a quick look but kept his eyes on the road. It was dark and late and country roads were notorious for accidents, especially on holidays, when the drinks flowed to excess.

  “I don’t discount the possibility.”

  “Really,” said Liv, intrigued.

  “Though I tend to think that if something is still hidden after all these years—over two hundred of them—it would be a document of some kind. And if someone actually found it, it would probably disintegrate the moment they picked it up.”

  “Hmm,” Liv said. “The other thing—” Her sentence was stopped by a jaw-cracking yawn. It was after midnight; they’d both been working nonstop and had to get up early the next day for the parade. “When the housekeeper saw the gurney, she
thought it was Henry Gallantine. I thought you said he left town every July to visit family.”

  “I did.”

  “Let me rephrase that. Does Henry Gallantine leave town every July?”

  Ted shrugged.

  “He doesn’t.”

  “Let me put it this way. He does. But not until after the Fourth and the reenactment. He likes to keep up the mystery of the ghost appearing on the roof. So he makes a big show of leaving town, then comes back for a final appearance before he really leaves for the summer. It’s part of his mystique: It’s a big secret, only everyone is in on it, but they pretend not to know. It’s more fun that way. A true eccentric.”

  “Along with a lot of other people in this town. So that’s why Hildy was so upset? She knew it should have been Henry Gallantine on the roof.” And covered up on the gurney.

  “Hmm.”

  “I wonder if the murderer thought he was killing Henry?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “And if Henry Gallantine was supposed to be there and wasn’t, where is he?”

  Ted smothered a yawn. “Oh Lord, I couldn’t even follow that question, much less try to answer it.”

  “Ted, don’t be obtuse. Do you think whoever killed Rundle was after him or Gallantine?”

  “I don’t know. I’m going to drop you off at home. There’s no need to go back to the office tonight.”

  They passed Town Hall, passed the square where chairs lined the parade route. And turned onto Liv’s street.

  “Do you think he’s dead, too?”

  Ted slowed down to make the turn into her driveway, drove all the way to the end, and stopped in front of her carriage house.

  “I haven’t the foggiest. Good night, Liv.”

  Interrogation closed. She wouldn’t be learning any more from Ted tonight. It was standard operating procedure, making her work for information. It heightened the drama and Ted’s entertainment. Though tonight he didn’t seem to be enjoying the game.

  “Good night,” she said. It didn’t matter. She’d find out. Eventually. She always did.

  • • •

  Liv’s alarm went off way too early the next morning. For a few minutes she just lay blinking into the darkened bedroom. But she got up and was halfway to the bathroom before she remembered why she’d stayed up so late last night. Leo… She didn’t even know Leo’s last name.

  She showered and went back to her bedroom, where a sleepy Westie opened one eye, then closed it again. He thought it was way too early to wake up on a Saturday morning.

  “It’s parade day,” she said as brightly as she could manage.

  He blinked, then lowered his muzzle to his paws and settled back down onto his plaid doggie bed.

  “People will be dropping food all day.”

  Whiskey sneezed.

  “And your friend Leo is in big trouble.”

  His ears flew up, he wriggled up to all fours and barked.

  “Thought you’d want to know. Though I don’t see how any of us can help. Nasty stuff is going on out there.” Hopefully the parade would go off without a hitch.

  Liv looked in her closet. It was going to be a scorcher. Somehow a flowered sundress didn’t strike her as appropriate parade wear, but she’d just about exhausted her red, white, and blue options.

  And it was really hard to care about clothes when a man had been murdered and a young teenager was the most obvious suspect.

  But she couldn’t stand staring into her closet all morning. She had a responsibility, a job to do—a red, white, and blue job to do.

  She pushed back some hangers and began rummaging through the contents of her closet. She’d had to invest in a whole new wardrobe since moving to Celebration Bay.

  She hadn’t realized when she’d interviewed for the job that theme was the almighty arbiter of fashion. Even on nonspecific holidays, anyone with a store or a function dressed to the hilt. Liv had made it through fall okay, thanks to one late-night Internet shopping spree right before she left Manhattan. She’d been buying haphazardly and at the last minute ever since.

  She pulled out a pink T-shirt. She’d meant to recycle some pink and red from the strawberry festival. Unfortunately the T-shirt, as well as other garments, were hopelessly stained, as the berries had been sweet, juicy, and detergent-proof.

  She pulled on a pair of jeans. Not exactly the blue of the flag, but they would have to do. The only other blue she had were dark-wash jean shorts, and they were way too short for the public, according to her landladies.

  She selected a white T-shirt, ran a scarf through the belt loops, and carefully twisted the Hermès pattern to accent the red. Hopefully the purple swirls would look like blue.

  But one glance in the mirror made her cringe. Not only did she look like she’d seen a body and spent most of the night at the police station, she seriously needed a wardrobe upgrade.

  Next month. August would be fairly easy. She would organize her coming year and purchase accordingly while she had the chance. She never had time for shopping once the holiday season began.

  She brushed her hair back into a ponytail and pulled it through the opening of the blue cap she’d bought on the street the day before. Hopefully she would look official enough to be authoritative if the need arose and patriotic enough to pass local opinion.

  Sensing adventure—and breakfast—ahead, Whiskey rolled out of bed, shook vigorously, and trotted down the hall to the back door.

  She let him out and put out a bowl of food, which he scarfed down immediately when he came back inside.

  “And now your favorite part,” she told him. She leaned down to tie on a stars-and-stripes kerchief that she’d bought at the Woofery for the occasion. Sharise, the groomer, tried to talk her into a top hat with red and white stripes, but Liv had put her foot down.

  After years of Liv buying cute little doggie outfits and having Whiskey refuse to wear them, he’d suddenly become a Westie fashionista. He and Ted even had matching bow ties at Christmas.

  Liv shuddered to think what Ted would be wearing today.

  She clipped on Whiskey’s leash and they headed out. It was still early, but already Liv could tell it was going to be hot and humid again.

  Whiskey trotted ahead of her down the driveway, ready to show off his bandanna and get a tiny treat. He was much more enthusiastic than his barely-put-together mistress.

  But neither Miss Edna nor Miss Ida was out yet. Probably still picking out their outfits for the parade. And then she remembered… they were in the parade.

  Liv felt a rush of pride and excitement. She’d only been here a little less than a year—so she’d be considered an outsider for the next fifteen years at least. She might never be asked to ride on a float in the parade or host the Winter Ball. But she was home.

  They walked the two blocks to the square, where the sun was just coming up over the eastern mountains and cast a shimmer of gold over the lake. Already vendors were setting up in the green. Food and souvenirs, charities selling raffle tickets for prizes that would be announced later that day.

  BeBe and Dolly both had tables out on the sidewalk that crisscrossed the park. Miriam Krause and her quilting club would be selling patriotic quilts and donating the proceeds to rehabilitate wounded soldiers. There were voting-registration tables and free blood-pressure check stations. Petitions to sign, though Ted and Liv had carefully scrutinized each group that registered to set up a booth.

  This was a day to celebrate and appreciate freedom, not to engage in political debate of any kind. There was plenty of grumbling and threats to sue the town when certain extremist groups were turned away, but not even the mayor backed down. Evidently there had been some pretty nasty encounters in the years before, and he didn’t want a return of that, and Liv wholeheartedly agreed. No politics on the Fourth of July.

  Security would be dou
bled for the parade. Between the county police and Bayside Security, Bill Gunnison had a full force of officers and patrolmen.

  Liv had been told that the parade drew mainly local families and tourists who were traveling with small children. But Liv knew quite well that, while the reenactment could be more carefully controlled by limiting the entrances, the parade-goers would be free to roam the town.

  She’d been the event planner to the rich and the sometimes infamous, but except for a few angry words or a drunken brawl, she’d been confident of the safety of the attendees. But these open venues and free-flowing events were out of her comfort zone; she was adapting, but she still checked and triple-checked the schedule before each event.

  Liv walked along the sidewalk that surrounded the park. Lawn chairs had been set out for days, chained to parking meters or tied together, to save places for the parade. The judging stand in front of Town Hall was finished and was decorated with bunting and American flags.

  Apple of My Eye was busy but not crowded yet. Whiskey was a big hit in his festive kerchief. And Dolly had a special star-shaped doggie treat for him.

  Dolly herself looked like Betsy Ross, pleasantly plump with a frilly white mobcap over her honey-colored hair. A white kerchief collar covered the shoulders of a red figured dress. Even her normal apron was white and starched so that it barely moved.

  Behind her, the pink cupcake wall clock supported two American flags, one current and one of the thirteen colonies. The display case was filled with red, white, and blue cupcakes, cookies, blueberry muffins, raspberry turnovers, even striped Rice Krispies snacks.

  Liv ordered a raisin scone. Dolly bagged the scone but, instead of handing it to Liv across the counter, she motioned to her part-time helper to take over. She accompanied Liv to the sidewalk.

  “Is it true?” she asked, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “That poor Leo Morgan found the body of Jacob Rundle last night?”

  Liv nodded; there was no point in denying it. Everyone would know soon enough, and she didn’t want to jeopardize anyone’s trust in her by lying and acting innocent.

  “How did you and Ted figure out that something was wrong?”