around his wife’s shoulder. “I hope not, Patsy. I hope not.”
We all watched intently as a diver rolled overboard backward, as lines were tossed into the water, and as boats jockeyed around bumping into each other.
“Can you see it?” Chief Jones said.
I looked at him and realized he had an earphone plugged into his ear and was talking into a small gadget. He was in radio contact with the city boat, maybe with some of the other boats as well.
“Nuts!” he said. “False alarm.”
The divers pulled something up. Even from the dock I could tell it was a log. They let it drop back into the water. Patsy Waterloo whirled around and dropped her head into her hands.
Chief Jones went over and patted her back clumsily. “I guess we’d better call it off for tonight, Patsy,” he said. “It’s getting too dark for the boats to accomplish anything. Maybe we’ll have more luck tomorrow.”
Patsy looked up, her face all screwed up. “You think he’ll be floating by tomorrow!” She made the words an accusation.
The chief didn’t answer; he simply walked a few feet down the dock and began to talk into his radio again. The rest of us stood silently as the patrol boat began to haul the divers aboard. Trey and Meg brought their boat over to Joe’s dock.
Joe spoke. “Mrs. Waterloo . . . Patsy, I honestly did not see Hershel’s canoe in the river when I left. I can’t believe it was there.”
Patsy wiped her eyes. “It’s not your fault, Joe. Hershel was—well, not crazy, but—I could never figure out where he got his ideas. I mean, why would you deliberately knock down the Root Beer Barrel, anyway?”
Chapter 5
I heard Meg Corbett gasp, but I think I simply stared at Patsy for a full minute. I couldn’t believe what she’d said. Joe had knocked the Root Beer Barrel down on purpose?
Joe’s reaction was much like mine, I guess. He didn’t change his expression until Meg gasped, and then he blinked twice. He lowered his head and looked closely into Patsy’s face. “Hershel thought I knocked down the Root Beer Barrel?”
“I didn’t believe it, Joe!”
“Where did Hershel get that idea?”
Before Patsy could answer, Trey Corbett somehow leaped onto the dock and started talking. “Hershel had a terrific imagination,” he said. “I was often amazed at what he’d come up with.”
The comment didn’t seem extreme to me, but its effect on Patsy Waterloo was—well, inflammatory. She flared up as if Trey had tossed kerosene on her and added a match. She almost shouted a reply. “Yes, Hershel had a wonderful imagination! When he was a little boy—and later on. If it had been encouraged. But it wasn’t. He was just criticized and made the butt of the whole town.”
Trey stepped back from her attack and nearly fell off the narrow dock. “Patsy, I’m sorry . . .”
“Oh, I don’t mean you, Trey! You were one of the few who didn’t make fun of Hershel, who didn’t mock him.” Her eyes flashed around the group. Was it my imagination, or did they linger on Meg?
But it was Chief Jones who drew fire next. He made the mistake of putting his mike away and turning back to our group, and Patsy pounced.
“And you!” She was yelling. “You’d think the chief of police would have some patience with his town’s eccentrics!”
“I thought I was patient for a long time,” the chief said.
“You threatened Hershel with jail!”
The chief sighed. “Now, Patsy . . .”
“Don’t you ‘now, Patsy’ me. I was the one who had to find Hershel that time. He was hiding up at the old chapel. He only goes there when he’s really upset! He was scared to death!”
“I’m sorry, Patsy. But we had to keep him from turning in these crazy reports.”
“I could have stopped him. All you had to do was call me!”
“I didn’t know that then. You’d just come back. You were in the middle of your renovation. I didn’t . . .” Chief Jones stopped talking and scowled at his shoes.
Patsy attacked
We all watched intently as a diver rolled overboard backward, as lines were tossed into the water, and as boats jockeyed around bumping into each other.
“Can you see it?” Chief Jones said.
I looked at him and realized he had an earphone plugged into his ear and was talking into a small gadget. He was in radio contact with the city boat, maybe with some of the other boats as well.
“Nuts!” he said. “False alarm.”
The divers pulled something up. Even from the dock I could tell it was a log. They let it drop back into the water. Patsy Waterloo whirled around and dropped her head into her hands.
Chief Jones went over and patted her back clumsily. “I guess we’d better call it off for tonight, Patsy,” he said. “It’s getting too dark for the boats to accomplish anything. Maybe we’ll have more luck tomorrow.”
Patsy looked up, her face all screwed up. “You think he’ll be floating by tomorrow!” She made the words an accusation.
The chief didn’t answer; he simply walked a few feet down the dock and began to talk into his radio again. The rest of us stood silently as the patrol boat began to haul the divers aboard. Trey and Meg brought their boat over to Joe’s dock.
Joe spoke. “Mrs. Waterloo . . . Patsy, I honestly did not see Hershel’s canoe in the river when I left. I can’t believe it was there.”
Patsy wiped her eyes. “It’s not your fault, Joe. Hershel was—well, not crazy, but—I could never figure out where he got his ideas. I mean, why would you deliberately knock down the Root Beer Barrel, anyway?”
Chapter 5
I heard Meg Corbett gasp, but I think I simply stared at Patsy for a full minute. I couldn’t believe what she’d said. Joe had knocked the Root Beer Barrel down on purpose?
Joe’s reaction was much like mine, I guess. He didn’t change his expression until Meg gasped, and then he blinked twice. He lowered his head and looked closely into Patsy’s face. “Hershel thought I knocked down the Root Beer Barrel?”
“I didn’t believe it, Joe!”
“Where did Hershel get that idea?”
Before Patsy could answer, Trey Corbett somehow leaped onto the dock and started talking. “Hershel had a terrific imagination,” he said. “I was often amazed at what he’d come up with.”
The comment didn’t seem extreme to me, but its effect on Patsy Waterloo was—well, inflammatory. She flared up as if Trey had tossed kerosene on her and added a match. She almost shouted a reply. “Yes, Hershel had a wonderful imagination! When he was a little boy—and later on. If it had been encouraged. But it wasn’t. He was just criticized and made the butt of the whole town.”
Trey stepped back from her attack and nearly fell off the narrow dock. “Patsy, I’m sorry . . .”
“Oh, I don’t mean you, Trey! You were one of the few who didn’t make fun of Hershel, who didn’t mock him.” Her eyes flashed around the group. Was it my imagination, or did they linger on Meg?
But it was Chief Jones who drew fire next. He made the mistake of putting his mike away and turning back to our group, and Patsy pounced.
“And you!” She was yelling. “You’d think the chief of police would have some patience with his town’s eccentrics!”
“I thought I was patient for a long time,” the chief said.
“You threatened Hershel with jail!”
The chief sighed. “Now, Patsy . . .”
“Don’t you ‘now, Patsy’ me. I was the one who had to find Hershel that time. He was hiding up at the old chapel. He only goes there when he’s really upset! He was scared to death!”
“I’m sorry, Patsy. But we had to keep him from turning in these crazy reports.”
“I could have stopped him. All you had to do was call me!”
“I didn’t know that then. You’d just come back. You were in the middle of your renovation. I didn’t . . .” Chief Jones stopped talking and scowled at his shoes.
Patsy attacked
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