09 Dead Man Running, page 5
I cleared my throat. “Yes, nice to meet you. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thank you, ma’am,” she said. “I find it’s best not to fraternize with civilians.”
“Lou was in the army for twelve years,” Colin explained.
Nobody said anything. Colin excused himself to go get some paperwork for her. While he was gone, a terrible silence hung in the air like a poisonous fog. Finally I thought, What the hell? Can’t hurt to be neighborly. “I’m Torie O’Shea,” I said. “I run the historical society in New Kassel.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Have you ever taken a tour of the Gaheimer House?” I asked.
“No,” she said. She spoke in clipped sentences with a gruffness that had to be practiced. Nobody could naturally be like that.
“You should come over,” I said. “I’ll give you a tour for free.”
“I don’t indulge in such frivolities, Mrs. O’Shea.”
Frivolities?
“Well …” I glanced at my mother, who was trying hard to communicate with only a shift of her eyes. She was saying, Tread lightly. Rudy stood and stretched and declared he was taking Matthew out back to play on the swing set. Even though it was dark.
“Have you been to any of our festivals?” I asked.
“No, ma’am.”
“You should come by sometime. We’re having the Octoberfest all this month. It kicks off this weekend. We’re having a parade and hayrides. A pumpkin-carving contest. Live music, too. All sorts of things.”
“Why would I do that?” she asked.
“It’s fun,” I said. “The Boy Scouts built a huge haunted house out by the pier.”
“Uh-huh,” she said and rocked on her heels.
“Won’t you have a seat?” my mother asked her.
“No, thank you, ma’am. I’d rather stand.”
“So, what sort of hobbies do you have?” I asked.
“None. Hobbies are a waste of time. Make you soft,” she said.
Soft. Well, she certainly couldn’t be accused of that.
Before I could say anything, she spoke again. “Mrs. O’Shea, I know who you are.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. My mother closed her eyes and shook her head.
“We’re not going to be best friends, and we’re not going to be working together. You can stop the fake small-town friendliness.”
I was shocked beyond comprehension. This was a case where somebody came into a situation expecting me to behave a certain way, so no matter what I did—even if I was being genuinely friendly—she’d read it as just what she expected. Well, she had taken the gloves off first . . .
“Hmmm, votes don’t concern you?” I asked. “Because running for an elected office is as much about schmoozing as it is ability. You’d be wise to know who the influential people are in this county—and not alienate them.”
Her gaze flicked down to her boots.
“By the way, it really is small-town friendliness. It’s not fake. So, are you from around here originally?” I asked, trying to start over. I’d give her the option of having an epiphany in front of me and coming to her senses. It’s hard to know when to be confrontational, when to be passive, and when to kill somebody with kindness. I’m still working on it, but I think I’m getting better.
She nodded her head. Yes, she was from around here.
“Oh,” I said. “Counts. Are you related to old Bram Counts, used to own a farm out on Junction H?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Not that I know of.”
“Well, was your grandfather born in this county?”
“I wouldn’t know that, ma’am. Not too concerned with the past.”
I jumped off the couch. “I’ll be right back,” I said to my mother. I ran through the kitchen and down the basement steps to Colin’s office. “Colin!” I called as I descended the stairs two at a time. “Colin, Colin, Colin, Colin!”
“What?” he called out.
“Oh, my God, Colin,” I said as I came running around the corner and barreled right into him, sending the papers flying.
“What is the matter with you?” He bent over and started picking up the papers.
“That woman cannot be our next sheriff!” I said.
“What are you talking about? Why not?” he said.
“Aside from the fact that she makes a zombie look warm and fuzzy?”
“Personality does not catch bad guys, Torie.”
“Listen to me, you cannot endorse this woman. She has no hobbies, she’s never been to any of our festivals, and fun is a four-letter word to her, without one of the letters! And she’s rude!”
“Torie,” he began.
“No, no, no. I’m serious, here. Colin,” I said, and took a deep breath. I spoke my next sentence clearly and slowly. “She has no concern for the past.”
He stood up and stared at me, horrified. “Are you serious?”
“Yes!”
Then I saw the corners of his mouth twitch, and I knew he was making fun of me. “Oh, my Lord, Torie. She doesn’t care about the past. The world will tilt on its axis and kill us all! The sky is falling!”
I put my hands on my hips. “I’ll have you know, Colin, that history is what makes New Kassel. It is what pays everybody’s bills. It is the only thing that attracts tourists other than deer hunting and fishing in this entire county. We have no industry here. The only reasons this county has any revenue are that little old historical town known as New Kassel and excess animals that can be shot or punctured. So I think at least a deep appreciation of the past is needed in all public officials.”
“You are being so …”
“So what?”
“Well, normal for you,” he said.
“Colin! Mort Jackman has to be a better candidate.”
“Joachim.”
“Whatever.”
“Torie, look. Voters aren’t concerned about her hobbies, her personality, or her lack of respect for the past. They are concerned about leadership, arrests, convictions, and a clean record. She has all of them,” he said.
I stared at him long and hard. “Colin, she is so clean, she probably shampoos her nose hairs!”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“She is wearing a gun! Off duty.”
“I always have my gun with me.” He shrugged.
“Not strapped to your leg, for God’s sake! Think about how off-putting that is.”
“Stop shouting,” he said. “I was thinking how it might make people feel safe in this time of terrorism.”
“Terrorism. In New Kassel. I’ll bet you the terrorists couldn’t even find New Kassel.”
“You’re being silly,” he said.
I sighed heavily. “I will pay you a thousand dollars to drop out of the mayor’s race.”
“What?” he said, laughing. “You’re nuts.”
“Maybe.”
“I have way more cash than that just tied up in that damn float!” he exclaimed.
“Fine. Name your price. I’m wealthy now. I’ve got more money than I’ll ever use even if all three of my kids decide to go to Harvard six times apiece,” I said. “I’ll pay you anything, just please, please do not let that woman be our next sheriff.”
“You know what?” he said and smiled. “I think she’ll make a perfect sheriff.”
With that, he swept by me, turned off the lights, and left me standing in the dark.
The drive home was quiet. Well, at least on my part. The girls giggled in the backseat, deciding who would marry Orlando Bloom and who would marry Josh Hartnett. I wasn’t too thrilled with either candidate, since they were at least fifteen years older than my girls were. However, once Rachel declared that neither one could hold a candle to her Riley, I rallied behind Orlando Bloom. Even Mary told her she was insane. Matthew kept making explosion noises. Lots of spit required for those. Mary kept complaining about getting showered every time he blew something up. Why do little boys like to blow things up? Is there a blow-up gene? A blow-up chromosome? Maybe there’s a blow-up property in testosterone. Rudy hummed some song, and I stewed in silence.
“What did you think of Lou Counts?” I asked finally.
“That lady was weird,” Mary said.
“I’m not asking you, Mary,” I said. “This is a big-people conversation. Okay?”
Which meant, of course, that the entire backseat suddenly grew very quiet.
“That was smooth,” Rudy said.
“What did you think of her?” I asked.
“I’d say if Rambo ever wanted to get married, we’ve got the perfect bride for him.”
“My sentiments exactly,” I said.
“I’m not sure what Colin is thinking,” he said. “Maybe she really is the best candidate.”
“If the pickings are that slim, then he shouldn’t be mayor. He should remain sheriff.”
“Torie, you can’t make the guy be sheriff if he really wants to be mayor,” he said.
“I know. What are the requirements for being sheriff, anyway?”
“Why?”
“Because maybe I can think of someone else,” I said.
“Well, she’s not sheriff yet. Colin hasn’t even won the mayor’s race yet. So don’t worry about it until it happens.”
That is such a guy way of thinking.
We pulled into our driveway and got out of the car. I walked down to the mailbox and checked the mail, since I hadn’t had time to pick it up earlier. I glanced out at the river. The moon reflected off the water, dusting everything with a pearly cast. Friday night would be a full moon. Perfect for a hayride. Then I glanced over at the mayor’s house. Bill and his wife were home. The living room light was on. I was about to walk up my sidewalk to my house when I saw something glinting in the woods behind the mayor’s house.
“Hey, Rudy,” I said.
“What?” he said from the steps.
“Come here,” I said.
“Just tell me what it is from there.”
“Come here,” I repeated.
He sighed heavily and walked with a frustrated swagger down the sidewalk to where I was standing. “What?” he said.
“Look,” I said, and pointed to the light in the woods. It flickered every now and then, then disappeared for a few seconds. “What is that?”
“Reflection off of a deer’s eye?”
“Awfully high off the ground to be a deer. Unless the deer have learned how to climb trees.”
“Then an owl’s eye,” he said. “What does it matter?”
“I don’t hear it hooting,” I said.
“Torie. You’re driving me crazy. You are driving me up the wall with your paranoia,” he said.
“Hey,” I said, “I have reasons to be paranoid. It’s not like one day I just woke up and decided, ‘Oh, hey, I think I’ll be paranoid and make Rudy crazy.’ It doesn’t work that way. You work up to being paranoid because things happen, and you learn your lesson so that next time you’ll be prepared. Paranoid. Besides, if I stop being paranoid, that’s exactly when somebody will get me.”
“Torie,” he said, grabbing my hand, “I love you, but every time you see or hear something strange in the woods, it doesn’t mean there’s a bad guy waiting to fall out of a tree.”
Just then I heard a loud snap, a rustle of leaves, and then a thud, followed by the muffled sound of somebody cussing a blue streak.
“Except this time,” Rudy said.
By the time we got over to the tree, the man was gone.
Five
It was Sunday morning. The day of the parade. Stephanie, Helen Wickland, and I were all dressed in the antique reproduction dresses that we give the tours in, waiting for the parade to start. Sylvia had had dresses made for her and me years ago, so those were nearly antiques for real. I had a few new ones commissioned after Sylvia died, because Helen, Stephanie, and I were not all the same size, and since we were the three female officers of the historical society, we were the ones who would be using them.
“I can’t breathe in this dress,” Stephanie said.
“Imagine if you had to stay in it all day,” Helen said.
“What do I do if I have to pee?” Stephanie asked.
“Hold it,” Helen answered.
Stephanie gave Helen a horrified look. She gave me an even more horrified one when I backed Helen up with a nod. Then she moved on to the next question. “So, did they ever catch the guy that was in the mayor’s tree?” Stephanie asked.
“No,” I said. “They found the broken limb and the binoculars that he dropped. Colin’s hoping to get prints off of them.”
Our float was behind the high school marching band. Riley and Rachel stood at attention, in full regalia, including plumes. I loved their uniforms. They were purple, black, and gold, with Sergeant Pepper’s-style jackets. I was pretty proud of Rachel, because I don’t think I could have stood at attention for a full five minutes. At least the weather was nice. It was a cool fifty degrees with blue skies dotted by big fluffy white clouds. The clouds were so white they nearly hurt your eyes to look at them. The air was crisp, and with every deep breath I took, I could feel it cleanse my lungs and mix with the thousands of roses on my float.
In front of the marching band was the big riverboat with the paddle wheel that I’d seen in the warehouse. It represented the maritime history of New Kassel and Granite County. Behind us were the Jaycees, and behind the Jaycees was the fire department. They’d hauled out one of the antique engines and put the dalmatian on it. Elmer had been torn between riding with the fire department and riding with us. I told him to ride with the fire department. Decisions have never been difficult for me.
So there we stood, waiting for Deputy Newsome to start off the parade by wailing the siren twice and then driving his squad car through town. I heard Mr. Gianino, the band director, call out, “Don’t lock your knees!” to the marching band.
“So, what do you think the guy was doing in the tree in the first place?” Helen asked.
“I have no idea,” I said.
“And you said that you saw a guy in their backyard the other day, too?”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s really weird. Colin swears it’s not someone that he’s hired.”
“Why would he hire somebody to spy on the mayor?” Stephanie asked. She wore one of the new reproduction dresses. Hers was based on a pattern from 1756 with a supertight waist and tight sleeves, in a small flower print. We had to let the waistout, considering she’d just had a baby. We topped it off with a white bonnet. Steph is a bit taller than me, five years younger, and for my money a whole lot prettier. Our hazel eyes are the one feature we share. Our personalities, however, are more alike than either one of our husbands cares to admit.
“I don’t know,” I said. “To see what his next move is? It’s silly, I know. I just can’t think of any other reason there’d be somebody snooping in the mayor’s backyard.”
The siren started to wail, and you could see a lot of the band members let out a big breath. The crowd was huge, as crowds usually are for our events. Not only do a lot of the people in the county come for the celebrations, but we usually get a fair number of people from St. Louis—especially if there’s food involved. If it’s during tourist season, we get people from all over the country.
Helen went back to her spinning wheel and sat down. Stephanie and I braced ourselves for the float to start moving.
“I heard the sheriff brought somebody with him last night,” Stephanie said. “To help on the investigation.”
“Yes, GI Jane,” I said.
“Torie,” she said. “You know I have a cousin, a girl, who’s in the marines, and she doesn’t fit that stereotype.”
“Oh, I totally agree, Steph,” I said. “There are plenty of female military that don’t fit this stereotype. But how shall I say this? Lou Counts is the prototype for the stereotype. I bet she eats her peas with a knife.”
“Is she that bad?” Steph asked.
“Yes,” I said.
The float gave a jerk and we were off. I started waving to all the tourists. People were taking pictures and waving back at us. “Safe to say she’s never been to a Tupperware party,” I added.
“Well, did you expect Martha Stewart as the next sheriff?” Stephanie asked.
“That would have been nice,” I said. Stephanie looked incredulous. “I’m joking. No, I didn’t expect Martha Stewart. I just didn’t expect somebody completely devoid of personality and manners. You know, I wouldn’t have cared if she’d had three guns strapped to her legs and a scorpion tattoo on her forehead if she had at least been nice when I was being nice! I don’t care what people look like or what religion they are, and I don’t care if they want to skin rattlesnakes every night for a hobby. But by golly, when somebody is trying to be nice and make small talk with them, they should at least be polite in return.”
Stephanie smiled, and that was the end of our conversation, because the marching band started playing “Play That Funky Music.” I’m not sure what that had to do with New Kassel or maritime adventures or anything historical, but the audience loved it, so who cares?
The riverboat in front of the band was having technical difficulties. They couldn’t get the paddle wheel to turn. At least two people were climbing over the top of the boat to get to the wheel to try to check it out. I thought they probably shouldn’t even bother. I mean, yes, it would be cool to see it spin, but if they weren’t up there working on it, nobody in the audience would know the difference.
I spotted Sam Hill in the throng of people, taking notes and talking to the photographer next to him. I was sure he was here to cover the parade, but I had a sneaking suspicion that the main reason he was here was to see the floats for Colin and Bill. He stepped up to the rose-trimmed edge of my float, which I found strange, and then motioned me to bend down to him. There was no way I could bend down in this dress and on a moving float, so I got down on my knees. He grabbed my hand and pulled me close. “I need to talk with you as soon as the parade is over,” he said.
I gave him a questioning look.
“Find me after the parade!” he shouted.
I nodded that I would and then stood back up, with Stephanie’s help. I have the utmost respect for the women in any century prior to the twentieth. I have no idea how they could plow fields, wash clothes, bake bread, and scrub floors in these damn dresses and corsets when I couldn’t even get up off of my knees without help.
