Crowning the Slug Queen (A Callie Stone Mystery Book 1) (4 page)

Dot said, “We’re glad to have you here. It’s always nice to bring a true professional on board.”

“Thank you, I’m happy to help. I think Jeremy is actually helping me, by giving me something to do instead of farm chores.”

One of the other committee members, a lady with long curly gray hair and sporting a pair of narrow framed glasses said, “You’re Coral Stone’s daughter, right? She’s one of the greatest assets to the Skinner community. Her farm is a real example of how to live off the land and limit our impact on the earth.”

As Callie had spent many hours that weekend fulfilling Coral’s raison d’être, she wasn’t necessarily in a charitable mood about it, but didn’t want to alienate anyone. “Yes, it’s quite amazing. I’m a big fan of the fresh eggs myself.”

The woman put out her hand. “I’m Jorna Vitale-Cone. I’m the marketing chair.”

“Jorna and her partner have an ad agency downtown and they are graciously volunteering their time,” said Jeremy.

“And this is Marty Dales our entertainment chair and Kathleen Teigen, who’s head of the parade.” Callie noted that Marty’s hair was an unusually dark shade of black even though he looked to be in his mid-sixties. She couldn’t tell if it was dyed or if it was a wig. Which would make it a pretty good wig if she couldn’t tell it was fake, she thought. He didn’t stand to shake her hand, but merely nodded at her.

Kathleen Teigen was a small woman and reminded Callie of a jumpy, terrier-like dog. Her short curly hair was a mottled brown and she stood up with a quick, nervous energy and stuck her hand out. “It’s very nice to meet you,” she said in clipped tones. “I hear you’re some sort of expert event planner.”

That let the cat out of the bag, thought Callie. “It’s what I do for a living. I’m,” was, “a director for conferences with a veteran’s non-profit organization in New York.”

“A non-profit. That’s nice you use your skills for something good. When Jeremy told us you lived in New York, I expected you to come in wearing a fancy suit and show us how things are done in the big city,” said Marty.

Callie smiled. “When it comes to events, I think you’ll find they’re done pretty much the same way no matter where you come from.” She knew she risked denigrating herself when she spoke of how uncomplicated planning an event was, but it was really how she felt. It wasn’t rocket science. However, it seemed there weren’t a great many people in the world who actually enjoyed the job and the stress that accompanied it. Of course, she now had proof of how bad it could get when things went wrong. Maybe she should stick to small, non-public events to minimize the potential for mishaps.

However, she knew she wouldn’t enjoy that. There was a sharp joy, an adrenaline rush that went along with planning a successful event. The weeks or months of work culminating in that glorious day when she was the person who had all the answers and solved all the problems.

Sometimes she felt a little like a magician. Make the attendees and staff happy and make sure they never saw all the behind the scenes work it took to get there. However, that style was a double edged sword. People often didn’t really get an appreciation for what she did until she was gone. She wondered how Bill Batson was getting along and if her veteran’s association missed her at all. Now she was in Skinner though, and she would do her best at whatever they were going to throw at her. Apparently, it included people imitating slugs.

Dot Felson called the meeting to order and they began with an overview of the marketing and print publications that had already been distributed. Marty gave an update of the different stages that would be in operation on the Saturday and Sunday of the event and the final confirmation of the bands that would be playing. When he nodded his head vigorously at a question Dot asked, Callie could see his hair move as a complete piece. Wig it is, she thought.

Kathleen provided an update on the parade route as the Skinner Police Department had made an adjustment. “There’s construction scheduled for the block right before the last turn on Thirteenth Street, so they’d like us to turn one block earlier. We just need to note that in our newspaper insert so people don’t line up to watch the parade on the wrong street. Otherwise, it’s no big deal.”

Callie asked, “What’s the rain plan?” This was a typical part of Callie’s sense of organization. She always wanted to know what the back-up was in case of bad weather.

They all looked at her like she had sprouted a second head. “This is Oregon. Skinner, Oregon. A little rain would not stop our parade,” said Marty.

“Actually, a lot of rain wouldn’t stop our parade,” said Jeremy with a smile. “We just keep going no matter what.”

“All the logistics for the Slug Queen competition are already set up,” said Marty. “It will take place on the main outdoor stage on Broadway. What we need you to do is take the schedule Polly created and make sure the contestants understand what they should do and when. It’s not too complicated, but sometimes they have a mind of their own.”

Jeremy said, “We also don’t have a list of the audio/visual for whatever each of their talents are going to be. Some like to sing or play and instrument or whatever they want, and we’ll need to have you shepherd getting that information from them and to our tech team before the competition.”

“Especially if someone is doing something creative. The pig calling last year almost ruined the speakers,” said Dot.

“Will we be able to have a dress rehearsal?” asked Callie.

“Yes and no,” said Dot. “Because the main stage is in the middle of a city street and we aren’t allowed to shut down the street until after noon on the actual day of the event, it will only be ready in time for the show. You’ll get to have the contestants practice, but it will be in the theater at the Newsome Center.”

The group looked at Callie as if they expected her to complain, but she shrugged her shoulders. “I think I can make that work. As long as we can get the basic movements down and the contestants know where they should be at any one time, it will go fine.” To herself Callie thought she was lucky she was in Skinner as the audience and possibly the contestants would be too intoxicated from a variety of substances to know if anything wasn’t the way they had practiced in the first place.

Kathleen fidgeted in her seat like a wriggling puppy. “As a professional event planner, does all of this seem right? Is there anything you might add?”

Callie could see Dot and Marty didn’t like the implied criticism there. “From what I’ve heard today, this looks great and you’ve all done a really professional job. If I was to mention anything, it would be the change in the parade route.”

“What about it?” asked Jorna in a challenging tone.

“Don’t just publish the new route and expect people to catch the change. You’ve been doing this event for a lot of years and I bet there’s a bunch of folks who never read the insert. They just show up.”

“What do you suggest?” asked Jeremy.

“First I would add a news article about the switch and have it placed in the main part of the paper and not in the insert. Second, I would put signage on the usual street where people line up directing them to the new street. That way you catch anyone who’s arriving early to stake out their place and you’re also catching folks who don’t read the paper.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” said Dot in a voice that indicated she hadn’t expected Callie to contribute anything of value. “Jorna, can you take care of making the signs and getting the story placed?”

“I knew she’d be helpful!” said Kathleen excitedly. As Dot and Marty looked doubtfully at each other, Callie thought she could do without cheerleading of that sort.

Jeremy said, “The slug queen contestants are getting together for their first run through about five p.m. tonight. Do you think you can make it?”

Callie nodded. The thought of missing one of her mother’s vegetarian stews would be enough to even out the challenge of working with a group of free spirits like the slug queens.

Jeremy handed her a manila folder filled with papers. “Here are the applications for the five accepted contestants. You can read this over before the rehearsal.”

“Can I also have Polly’s number?” asked Callie.  “I think I’d like to go and chat with her.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Callie decided to take the rest of the morning for a shopping trip before returning to her mom's for lunch. The rubber boots that had been left in the cottage were now beginning to tint her socks a fine shade of rust brown. New boots were essential. If she shopped well enough she could find ones she could take back and wear on rainy days in New York.

She soon realized Skinner's shopping options hadn't grown much since she had left years ago. Although there were a few specialty retailers in the downtown area, the things they specialized in weren't really the shoes Callie was looking for. Birkenstocks and Danskos might be comfortable, but she thought their bulbous shapes should be repellent to anyone with a sense of fashion.

The large majority of clothes retailers were at the shopping mall a few miles outside of downtown. She could remember the many hours she and Audrey had spent shopping or just hanging out at Creekplace Center. At that time, the mall had been filled with more stores than they could imagine, with something new around every corner. Now, as a veteran shopper, she found it somewhat provincial. The mall was anchored by a Macy's, so at least she could be assured of something in style.

She tried on several pairs of boots and had almost settled on some Doc Marten's. Although they were tough enough to withstand the garden, she was doubtful she could really pull off the punk chic look they cried out for when she went back to New York. Then she saw a pair of gray and white Coach rain boots. The sole and heel were clear rubber, which struck her as a bit unrealistic since you'd never see that feature once they were covered with mud, but they were on sale. They would keep her feet dry and her socks safe from whatever rusty brown material was in her borrowed boots and she'd be able to wear these in New York.

She also shopped for some new jeans. The Levi's she found matched her sense of what was still fashionable and yet downscale enough to garden in. Satisfied with her purchases she loaded up the car and drove back to her mom's place.

She walked into the kitchen and saw a note had been left on the table for her. Coral had taken Grandma Minnie to the fabric store and they wouldn't return until dinner time. Callie made herself an impromptu lunch of a cheese sandwich alongside some of Grandma Minnie's homemade pickles. She washed her dishes and after putting them away, headed to the cottage with her purchases.

As she had a few hours to kill before meeting with Polly, she toyed with the idea of going out into the garden and taking her new boots for a test drive, but the bed and Grandma Minnie's quilt called her name. She set her phone alarm and laid down for a nap.

She woke, packed her laptop in her bag and following the directions Jeremy had given her, drove to Polly’s bar, Barton’s Public House. While much of Skinner was laid out on a strict grid system, rail lines cut through one part of town. Painted in a pale yellow with dark green trim, the repurposed Victorian home that housed the café and bar, was located on a small triangle shaped piece of land. The house took up over half of the available plot, with the remainder paved for parking. Callie pulled into the lot and walked up the side ramp to the front door.

The door, a sturdy solid oak with an inset stained glass window, was propped open with a large cast iron door stop in the shape of a cat. Callie stepped into what was once the hallway foyer of the house. To her immediate left was a large room, with a Victorian style carved bar facing numerous tables and chairs. Directly in front of her was a steep staircase. All the furnishings were dark wood accented with red velvet cushions. Callie assumed in the evening these colors would give the bar some ambiance, but in stark daylight, the dark seemed oppressive.

A pair of legs appeared at the top of the stairs clad in blue and white striped socks and the Birkenstock sandals that seemed to be worn by half the population of Skinner. The body, a woman’s, continued to appear, wearing khaki shorts and a blue spaghetti strap top.

“Are you Callie?” she asked.

“You must be Polly,” said Callie, putting out her hand. “You have a beautiful place here.”

Polly, whose bright red hair was pulled into two braids, shook her head. “You should have seen it when we started 5 years ago. It had turned into the drug user’s favorite hangout. We had to tear out the walls basically down to the studs and renovate.”

Callie looked around at the molding in the corners of the doorways and the pressed tin ceiling. “Wow, I would have thought all of this was original.”

“In a way. We bought a lot of it from recycling places up and down the west coast. So it was original in someone else’s Victorian mansion, just not ours. Come on in to the bar.”

As they walked in and sat down, Callie asked, “Who’s we? You renovated this with someone else?”

“My partner, Zeke. He’s the reason I’m no longer working on the slug queen pageant. He fell off our tall ladder while fixing the gutter in the back. Broke both legs.”

“Ouch,” said Callie. “How long until he’s back on his feet?”

“Probably a couple of months at the least. He’s getting around in a wheelchair, but is as grumpy as a mama bear most of the day.”

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time then. How did you get involved in the slug pageant?”

“I manage a lot of musical acts as we have a blues night here. Jeremy said I could get sponsorship credit and free advertising if I’d manage the pageant. It seemed like a fairly painless way to work on a community event and get good exposure for the bar.”

Callie nodded. “That makes sense.” Out of her bag, she pulled out the slug queen pageant applications. “Would you mind if we went over these?” Each contestant had submitted a written application explaining why they believed they should be the next Skinner Slug Queen. The application included a spot for a normal photo of them and one of them in their full competition gear.

“I haven’t actually seen those,” Polly said. “I know 3 of the contestants personally and as Jeremy and his committee had read the applications on the rest, I didn’t really think I needed to look at them. But they’ll probably be a big help to you. Oh, look at who’s on top of the pile, the mayor’s husband.”

The applicant’s photo showed a gentleman with small round glasses and wispy sandy brown hair that was receding a bit in the front. “He looks like a librarian,” said Callie. “He’s the mayor’s husband?”

“Got it in one,” said Polly laughing. “He works at the downtown branch of the library. He’s always been a quiet sort, never at campaign events with Dot or anything, so it’s a bit of a surprise to see him in the competition.”

The photo of him in his full slug queen regalia was even more surprising. Steven Felson's slug queen alter ego was a character he had named Gastronia Creepalot in keeping with the theme of the pageant.

Callie decided that in order to keep all these people straight, she would think of them by the gender of the character they chose, when they were in character. If she didn't, she'd call the he's she's and the she's he's at some inopportune moment. It would just be easier this way, she thought.

In her full length photo, Gastronia was about six inches taller than Steven and Callie could see that was due to the dark green claw toed hip boots she wore. The boots were topped by a black leather mini skirt that had been decorated with swirling lines of green and gold glitter. Callie could only imagine this was in imitation of the slimy trails slugs left on the ground. Gastronia wore full length dark green leather gloves ending in steel fingernails that resembled the claws on the boots.

“So where would you go to buy a matching set of clawed boots and gloves?” asked Callie, somewhat rhetorically.

“Oh, you can get those downtown in one of the shops that sell Goth clothes.”

Callie nodded. You could get Goth in Skinner, but haute couture was unavailable.

Above the skirt Gastronia wore what had to be a custom designed blouse. The dark green satin fabric with swirls of gold glitter hung loose on Gastronia's frame, except for where a two pieces of black fabric extending from shoulder to waist were crossed in the front in a large x shape. The bunching of the fabric gave the impression of two large breasts, making sure she looked womanly and not, well, Stevenly, thought Callie. The blouse was slashed open at the shoulders and her somewhat muscular arms were showing.

From the venomous green lipstick to the long green eyelashes, Gastronia's make-up definitely changed her to someone unrecognizable as Steven Felson. Her eyes were thickly rimmed with kohl and several of the eyelashes had crystals attached to them. “I wonder how she blinks without doing herself an injury,” said Polly. Gastronia’s eyes and lips were emphasized because of the solid white basecoat which covered the rest of her face. Callie wondered how long it took her to apply all this make up especially as she was really a he and most likely not accustomed to putting on a face for the day.

              There was a standard section of name, address, and the like, and then there were a few essay questions. The first question asked why the applicant wanted to be a slug queen.

Conscious that she was keeping Polly waiting, Callie skimmed over the answer. Gastronia seemed to ramble on a lot as there were mentions of Skinner's great history of slug queens and her desire to continue to lead the city to greatness. “How serious do people take this?” asked Callie. “You’d think Steven wanted to run for mayor.”

“I think that’s just part of the schtick,” said Polly. “Steven’s seen this pageant before and he knows the more over the top you are, the more likely you are to win.”

Callie nodded but thought to herself that maybe Steven wasn't satisfied to be a secondhand spouse after all.

Callie turned to the second packet in the group. Sheldon Normal, former owner of The Hemp Pot Smoke Shop was entering as Slimerita Rivera.

“That’s Sheldon. He used to own a smoke shop until they caught him with weed on the premises. He spent a month in jail and now owes about 200 hours of community service,” said Polly.

“Does the slug queen pageant count for that?” asked Callie.

“It does if he wins. The winning queen spends the next year visiting hospitals and school classrooms as well as doing all sorts of events for the city. It would be a pretty creative way to work off your community service.”

While this sort of reasoning might not appeal to a more conservative community, Callie thought not only would the Skinnertons' get a laugh out of it, they would actively encourage someone thumbing their noses at the authorities by doing their service as a beauty queen. Especially if the case had something to do with Skinner's favorite homegrown weed.

Sheldon Normal's applicant photo showed a slim, Hispanic man with long black hair held back from his face in a ponytail. That hair was used to good effect as Slimerita's beehive hairdo seemed to stretch a full twelve inches up from her head. The beehive was used as a base to support several slug shapes, giving her an impression of slugs crawling through and around the beehive. Callie found the effect disgusting, which was probably what its creator intended.

Slimerita wore a dress reminiscent of what Callie wore in her high school version of West Side Story. The top half was frilly with a lace jabot up the front. The sleeves were equally frilly and looked like something a mariachi player would wear. The skirt mirrored the sleeves in that it was layer on top of layer of gathered lace and taffeta. Callie thought that in a normal color or something like black accented with red, the outfit might pass as something you could wear on Cinco de Mayo. However, in alternating shades of gray green and olive green, the ensemble almost seemed to move by itself in waves and made Callie a bit seasick just looking at a photo. She would have to be careful not to eat before seeing Slimerita in full motion.

Surprisingly, as everything else seemed so over the top to Callie, Slimerita kept her make up simple. She looked up at Polly. “She could be a young girl heading to her quinceñera. Except, of course, for the slugs in her hair.”

“Too true,” Polly agreed. “Who’s next?”

“June Ness, a schoolteacher,” Callie said. “She looks surprisingly normal to be in this crowd. Her slug queen alter ego is Queen Slugabeth II.”

“She’s one of the two that I don’t know. Where does she teach?”

“Tyler Middle School.” Callie read through the application. “She says she’s trying to demonstrate to her students that each person can become anything they want to, even if it isn't something others expect of them.”

Callie wondered if the Old Queens who were judges would be impressed by such a noble mission. She doubted it. However, Callie thought even if Queen Slugabeth II didn't win the overall competition, June Ness would have made the point to her students anyway.

As her name implied, Slugabeth sported a crystal diadem, the large center section adorned with a glistening green emerald cut stone. Her white hair was teased and curled until it rose a good six inches above the top of her crown. Callie wondered if that was June's own hair or a wig. She turned back to the photo of June prior to her queenly transformation. June was a plump woman wearing a pink sweater set with pearls and a floral patterned skirt. Just like a school teacher. And yes, the hair was real and not a wig, although in her real life, June pulled her white hair back into a tight bun.