A Catered Fourth of July by Isis Crawford Page A

you look at them? Inspect them, look in the barrels to see if they were clean?”
    Marvin looked miserable. “No,” he whispered. “I didn’t.”
    â€œWhy not?” Brandon asked.
    â€œThey weren’t real. Even if they were, it wouldn’t have made a difference. I don’t know one end of a barrel from another. I’ve never shot a gun in my life. I’ve never been near them.”
    â€œSo it would seem,” Brandon said. “So what did you do with the muskets then?”
    â€œI stored everything in the shed by the rose garden just like Rick Evans told me to. It was the easiest thing to do. I figured I’d give everyone their costumes before the reenactment and they could change in the Longely Historical Society bathrooms. Inez said it would be all right. That way no one would lose anything.” Marvin bit his bottom lip. “I thought I was being smart.”
    â€œThat’s when I make my worst mistakes,” Libby volunteered, trying to make Marvin feel better. “Why is that, I wonder?”
    â€œWhat kind of lock did you use on the shed door?” Bernie asked Marvin, declining to go through the door her sister had opened.
    Marvin shook his head. “I didn’t.”
    Brandon frowned. “You didn’t? Why not?”
    Marvin slunk lower in his seat. “Because Rick told me the shed had a padlock. He even gave me the key for it. But when I got there the lock was already open. It was hanging on the hasp. After I was done putting things inside, I tried closing it, but I couldn’t. The padlock was broken. I knew I should have gone to the hardware store and gotten a new one, but I was running late. I figured everything would be fine. As it turned out, I was wrong.”
    Bernie almost said I’ll say, but stifled the comment. Instead, she asked if anyone had seen Marvin storing the clothes and the props.
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œMaybe?” Bernie repeated. “What do you mean maybe? ”
    â€œWell, there were people around. I mean, there are always people around so I’m sure someone saw me.”
    â€œLike who?” Bernie asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” Marvin said angrily. He was suddenly tired of defending himself. “I wasn’t paying attention, okay? I was thinking about other stuff.”
    Libby lifted her hands then brought them down in a calming gesture. “Maybe we should try another tack.”
    Marvin gulped down the last of his Scotch. “I’m listening.”
    â€œLet’s start off with who besides Rick Evans knew that the reenactment stuff was in the shed,” Libby said.
    â€œThat is the question, isn’t it?” Bernie said.
    â€œOne of them,” Brandon said. “I can think of several others.”
    Bernie shot him a look and he shut up.
    â€œEveryone knew,” Marvin said, answering Libby’s question. “I sent out an e-mail to everyone who was involved in the production.”
    â€œThen the second part of the question is, who knew that the shed’s lock was broken?” Brandon asked.
    Marvin shook his head again. “You got me, but I can’t believe it was a secret.”
    â€œWhat else is the shed used for?” Libby asked.
    â€œNothing,” Marvin replied. “It’s empty. The Longely Rose Society used to store their gardening tools in there, but they moved them to the outbuilding on the other side of the garden.”
    â€œHow long has the shed been empty?” asked Brandon.
    Marvin shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe a year. Maybe six months.”
    Everyone was silent for another minute as the weather announcer forecast the weather for the rest of the week. It was going to be in the nineties for the next three days.
    â€œI never thought I’d say this,” Brandon said, “but I’m actually looking forward to winter.”
    â€œWell, I for one, refuse to complain about the heat,” Bernie