for the Sweetheart’s Ball.”
“Oh, I don’t think that Bob should—”
“We’re going,” Bob said before slurping up the rest of his soup. “I’ve got sweat-equity in that paper palace thing and I want to see it in action. And you know I like an excuse to wear a suit.”
This was probably a lie. Certainly Alex had no love of suits.
“We’ll only go long enough to be polite,” I said. “It’s a low key affair. We’ll listen to some music, watch Mrs. Graves get crowned with that hideous tiara the Queen of the Sweethearts has to wear. And after we’ve sniggered at her a bit and I’ve shown off my dress, we’ll come home and have some tea and apple cobbler.”
“It sounds perfect. You are a darn good cook, too, Chloe. Thank you. That hit the spot.”
“Wait ‘til you try my cobbler.” I patted him on the shoulder and hoped that cobbler without butter really would be tasty. “Now, I am going to pop out to the store for a few groceries. I’m low on cinnamon.” Cinnamon is important if you aren’t using salt. And I needed butter substitute. I didn’t keep the devil’s spread around unless Mom was visiting. “Rosemary, do you need anything while I’m out?”
“No, I’m fine.” She wasn’t fine but nothing at the grocery store would help with what ailed her.
“Alex?”
“Some beer,” he said and then looked guiltily at his Dad.
“Go ahead, you rotten kid,” Bob said with a smile. “You’ll have plenty of chances to be abstinent when you are old and overweight.”
“I’ll be back shortly.”
Blue went with me. She loves the market. It was an off hour, so there were few people in the store. I noticed the Valentines on the card aisle were very picked over, but dawdlers can’t be choosers, so I found one that wasn’t too nauseating to give to Alex.
Lines were short. Only Mrs. Winkler was ahead of me. I wasn’t being nosy, but we were close and I watched with fascination as Mrs. Winkler wrote her check, drawing each letter with artistic care.
What with the heart attack and the wedding, the investigation had become just so much white noise in the background, but I hadn’t forgotten it entirely. And now, as a consolation prize from the gods, I had found my poster maker. And our saboteur.
“Mrs. Winkler, we need to have a talk,” I said quietly.
“Chloe?” She blinked nervously. “What about?”
“About chalk and space heaters and the evil that men— and women— do.”
“Oh.” Her eyes got big.
“Let’s go for coffee. I have a little time.”
* * *
“So that’s it,” I said to the chief the next morning. “We could have gotten her for the graffiti but the rest wasn’t provable and she really was horrified about the fire once she saw it might spread. So I took care of it another way— a way that won’t jeopardize Books on Wheels funding or cause any bad publicity for the Sweethearts Ball. I hope you don’t mind.”
The chief nodded. “That’s the best solution all the way around.”
The chief was about justice more than about the law. It’s why he and Dad got on so well. City government had never been so harmonious.
“Yeah— and I won’t have to make another paper carnation as long as I live! Mrs. Winkler is my stand-in from now to eternity. It’s her penance,” I said, righteously.
“I’m glad it isn’t blackmail like I first thought,” he said dryly. “So, will you all be going to the ball tonight?”
“Briefly. I would give it a pass, but Bob is determined and I think it is best for everyone if we let life get back to normal.”
* * *
I got home before Rosemary, but not by much. Alex was working next door in the remains of his office and Bob and Dad were watching a basketball game with cats in their laps and a tremendous amount of hair on their clothing. They weren’t talking but looked utterly relaxed in each other’s company. In fact, they may have been napping.
Rosemary shut the door noisily and dropped packages on
“Oh, I don’t think that Bob should—”
“We’re going,” Bob said before slurping up the rest of his soup. “I’ve got sweat-equity in that paper palace thing and I want to see it in action. And you know I like an excuse to wear a suit.”
This was probably a lie. Certainly Alex had no love of suits.
“We’ll only go long enough to be polite,” I said. “It’s a low key affair. We’ll listen to some music, watch Mrs. Graves get crowned with that hideous tiara the Queen of the Sweethearts has to wear. And after we’ve sniggered at her a bit and I’ve shown off my dress, we’ll come home and have some tea and apple cobbler.”
“It sounds perfect. You are a darn good cook, too, Chloe. Thank you. That hit the spot.”
“Wait ‘til you try my cobbler.” I patted him on the shoulder and hoped that cobbler without butter really would be tasty. “Now, I am going to pop out to the store for a few groceries. I’m low on cinnamon.” Cinnamon is important if you aren’t using salt. And I needed butter substitute. I didn’t keep the devil’s spread around unless Mom was visiting. “Rosemary, do you need anything while I’m out?”
“No, I’m fine.” She wasn’t fine but nothing at the grocery store would help with what ailed her.
“Alex?”
“Some beer,” he said and then looked guiltily at his Dad.
“Go ahead, you rotten kid,” Bob said with a smile. “You’ll have plenty of chances to be abstinent when you are old and overweight.”
“I’ll be back shortly.”
Blue went with me. She loves the market. It was an off hour, so there were few people in the store. I noticed the Valentines on the card aisle were very picked over, but dawdlers can’t be choosers, so I found one that wasn’t too nauseating to give to Alex.
Lines were short. Only Mrs. Winkler was ahead of me. I wasn’t being nosy, but we were close and I watched with fascination as Mrs. Winkler wrote her check, drawing each letter with artistic care.
What with the heart attack and the wedding, the investigation had become just so much white noise in the background, but I hadn’t forgotten it entirely. And now, as a consolation prize from the gods, I had found my poster maker. And our saboteur.
“Mrs. Winkler, we need to have a talk,” I said quietly.
“Chloe?” She blinked nervously. “What about?”
“About chalk and space heaters and the evil that men— and women— do.”
“Oh.” Her eyes got big.
“Let’s go for coffee. I have a little time.”
* * *
“So that’s it,” I said to the chief the next morning. “We could have gotten her for the graffiti but the rest wasn’t provable and she really was horrified about the fire once she saw it might spread. So I took care of it another way— a way that won’t jeopardize Books on Wheels funding or cause any bad publicity for the Sweethearts Ball. I hope you don’t mind.”
The chief nodded. “That’s the best solution all the way around.”
The chief was about justice more than about the law. It’s why he and Dad got on so well. City government had never been so harmonious.
“Yeah— and I won’t have to make another paper carnation as long as I live! Mrs. Winkler is my stand-in from now to eternity. It’s her penance,” I said, righteously.
“I’m glad it isn’t blackmail like I first thought,” he said dryly. “So, will you all be going to the ball tonight?”
“Briefly. I would give it a pass, but Bob is determined and I think it is best for everyone if we let life get back to normal.”
* * *
I got home before Rosemary, but not by much. Alex was working next door in the remains of his office and Bob and Dad were watching a basketball game with cats in their laps and a tremendous amount of hair on their clothing. They weren’t talking but looked utterly relaxed in each other’s company. In fact, they may have been napping.
Rosemary shut the door noisily and dropped packages on
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