Oh Say Can You Fudge (18 page)

Chapter 19

After lunch, I left my parents at the bike rentals. Mom had decided it would be fun to bike the road that went around the island. It was an easy eight mile track that showcased the shoreline.

Before I went back to work, I figured it was a good time to pop in to my neighbor’s shop and ask about Oliver. He was fifteen and I kind of hoped he’d be looking for part-time work next summer. At sixteen, he could do more than porter. I would like to see if he might work the front desk to relieve Frances a few hours a week.

The Old Tyme Photo Shop had red, white, and blue bunting draped across the front. In the windows was an ever changing kaleidoscope of tin-type pictures of smiling Fudgies in period dress from the revolutionary war to the World War II era. The glass doors were held open with a brick and the sound of laughter and music greeted me.

The set up was simple. A front counter with a cash register and blown up poster-size pictures was positioned to the right of the door. To the left was a seating area currently occupied by a family of six. Mom and Dad wore 1900s costumes—full suit for dad and mutton sleeve blue jacket, white shirt, and floor length skirt for Mom. A set of twins, blond boys who looked to be about eight years old, wore short pants and sailor tops. A girl of about thirteen had draped herself in the chair in the most bored manner while she flipped through her cell phone. She wore a calf length white dress with a drop waist set off with a pale blue sash. Her blond hair was pulled back into a braid that ran down her back. The little girl who looked to be three years old was in a cute pink and white striped dress with pantaloons. The family was adorable.

Beyond the waiting area was a small hallway. I made my way down it to see two rooms to the right. One held a variety of backdrops and photography equipment. The one behind held racks and racks of costumes. To the right were restrooms marked BOYS and GIRLS.

“Hello?” I called.

“I’ll be right out.” Cyndy Crumbley popped her head out of a tiny office in the back of the building. “Oh, hi, Allie. How are you?”

Cyndy was a gorgeous blonde. At age thirty-eight she still could pass for a woman in her twenties. She had big blue eyes that she’d lined with blue eyeliner and black mascara. She wore her hair in a messy bun on top of her head. Cyndy was five foot four and wore a white peasant blouse with violets embroidered across the top and a long loose skirt in purple. Her perfectly manicured toes peeked out of open-toed wedges.

“I’m good. You look busy.” I pointed toward the waiting family.

“Being busy is good.” In her hand was an envelope clearly filled with proof pictures. “How’s business?”

“It’s going well. Except for the thumb, I’m enjoying every minute of it.” I held up my splint.

“Oh, that’s right. I heard you were in an accident.” She winced at my thumb. “How are you making fudge?”

“Sandy has to do it for a few weeks. I supervise, but it’s not the same.”

“I bet.”

“Listen, I stopped by to see how Oliver is doing.”

She paused and looked at me earnestly. “Why? Did you hear something?”

“I didn’t see him around for awhile. I hear he recently came back from some sort of trip?”

She scowled. “His father is angry because Oliver hasn’t been taking any of his calls. The divorce didn’t go that well and Oliver is a teen and mad at his dad. I tried to explain that, but there’s no talking to the man.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Is that why Oliver was gone for a while?”

“Yes. The courts made me send him to his father’s for a month as soon as school let out.” She shook her head. “Oliver was with him four days before my ex sent him off to summer camp.”

“What?” I blinked. “He made you send Oliver to stay with him and then he sent Oliver off? Was it a day camp?”

“No, it was an overnight camp,” she said and I noted that her hands curled into fists. “Oliver called me after the first night and asked if he had to stay if he didn’t want to be there so I sent him a plane ticket to come home. As far as I know, his father still thinks Oliver is at camp.”

“That’s so weird.”

Cyndy shrugged. “My ex was trying to get back at me by taking Oliver and the courts didn’t see it that way.”

“Poor Oliver. I bet he’s pretty angry right now.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Cyndy asked.

“Yes, I would. One quick question. I know Oliver was back the night the pool house was set on fire.”

“Are you implying he did that?” Her blue eyes flashed. “Because he would never.”

“Oh, no.” I raised my hands. “I’m not implying anything. I was wondering if he might have seen something that night.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Cyndy’s shoulders dropped. She ran her free hand over her face. “I’m a little defensive when it comes to my boy. He’s a teenager and that means he’s no angel, but he’s a good kid. He wouldn’t do anything malicious.”

“I know”—I put my hand on her arm—“but he may have a better idea of who would do such a thing. I mean, he hangs out with the other island teens, right? Maybe they know something.”

She looked at me thoughtfully. “I’ll ask him.”

“Thanks. Let him know that I’m really hoping to bring him on part-time at the McMurphy next summer when he’s sixteen. That is, if he’s interested. I’ll need someone to give Frances a break at the receptionist desk.”

Cyndy smiled. “I’ll let him know.”

“Thanks,” I said again. “I’ll let you get to that nice looking family in the waiting area.”

“The Gunthersons. They are so cute, aren’t they? They come every year for their family portrait. Then put it on their Christmas card.”

“I love repeat customers. You get to know them and they become part of your friends and family.”

“I agree.” She patted me on the shoulder. “Thanks for thinking about Oliver. I’ll ask him if he saw or heard anything.”

“One last thing. Did you see the calico cat that’s been hanging around the back alley? If so, do you happen to know who it belongs to?”

“Oh, yes, I’ve seen it. I thought it was yours. I saw the food and water dishes on your fire escape.”

“It’s been hanging out and I couldn’t let it starve. I’m going to catch it and take it to the vet and ensure that it’s healthy.”

“And you’re keeping it, aren’t you?” She winked at me. “It’s a pretty cat. Let me know what you name her. Okay?”

“Are you sure you don’t want her? Maybe Oliver?”

She stopped and thought about it. “You know, maybe having a pet would be good for Oliver. But I can’t afford the vet and spay bills.” She bit her bottom lip. “Sorry.”

“I’ll pay the bills and if Oliver wants the cat, that would be great. I already have Mal and I am pretty certain the health inspector would frown about my having another pet in the fudge shop.”

“Sounds perfect,” Cyndy said her eyes lighting up. “Thanks!”

I left out the front as she placed the envelope on the reception desk and then called the Gunthersons back to the studio for their photos.

With Cyndy’s door always open, I wondered why the cat hadn’t gone inside the photo shop instead of the McMurphy in the first place. If Oliver took the cat, I would still get to see her. Cyndy and Oliver lived in the apartment above the photo shop—which meant the cat would be hanging out on their fire escape instead of mine.

 

 

“What did you find out?” Frances asked as I entered the McMurphy.

“Oliver left the island because his dad protested the custody situation and forced Cyndy to give Oliver up for the month after school let out. But after a week, Oliver was put into summer camp. He called Cyndy in tears and she brought him home. She’s expecting her ex to get wise and come storming back for Oliver any day.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath. That one was always all about himself.”

“Did you talk to Mr. and Mrs. Castor?”

Mal jumped up to greet me with a wagging stub tail and a little pirouette. I bent down and patted her on the head and scratched behind her ears.

“I called Jessica. They went on a once-in-a-lifetime cruise to the Greek isles for their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary.”

“Wow. How fun. Kind of funny, though, that they left our island for a series of Greek islands.”

“Once you’re an island person, you are always an island person,” Frances said.

“Do they know anything about the fires?” I went to the counter and got Mal a treat from the treat jar. I made her sit and twirl and shake her paw before I gave her the treat. It was always good to keep her well-practiced with her tricks. Not that she would ever forget. Sometimes she pulled out her tricks just to entertain the guests and try to get them to give her a treat.

“They told me to ask Luke Archibald,” Frances said.

“Why?”

“It seems that Luke was doing some exterior painting work for them near the site of the first fire at around the same time.”

“Really?” I glanced at the map Liz had drawn. “What is out by Eagle Point Cave?”

“The Castors have a guest house out that way. It’s really a one bedroom cabin that belonged to Jessica’s brother. When he died, it went to her. They wanted to fix it up and sell it to finance their cruise so they called Luke to come out and spruce things up a bit.”

“Interesting.” I picked up a blue marker and put a star by the sight of the first fire. “We know he was doing work at the Oakton when this fire occurred, as well.” I put a star by the pool house. “Then there is the fire in Luke’s trash barrel. Do you think he was working near any of the other sites?”

“I think he was working in Harrisonville around the time of the Great Turtle Park fire, but I can’t be positive. Let me call around and see what I can find out.”

“Sure.” I studied the map. If Luke was at four of the sites, we had a pattern. Enough of a pattern, anyway, to get Rex involved. I put the cap on the marker and put it away.

I had just been talking to Luke and he seemed like such a nice guy, always helpful. It didn’t make sense. There hadn’t been any anger in his eyes. Why would he set the fires? For insurance? No, the Castors would hold the insurance on their cottage and I know for sure Luke wouldn’t see a cent of insurance from burning the pool house. So where was the motive?

We were going to have to dig a little deeper.

Chapter 20

We closed the fudge shop at six
PM
so that everyone could go out to see the fireworks. It was tradition to close it early. Papa Liam had loved fireworks and always insisted that we shut down for all three fireworks shows. It made good business sense. The streets emptied as people grabbed picnic baskets and headed out to their staked out tents and chairs and blankets on the shore or the schoolyard.

Mom had packed a huge picnic basket full of her homemade fried chicken, coleslaw, potato salad, vegetable platter and dip, biscuits, and fig cake for desert. Dad carried a cooler full of glass bottles with ice tea and sodas. I carried a Frisbee, a portable bocce ball set, and horseshoes. Mal carried her leash and followed beside me.

It felt like a mass exodus as everyone left for the part of the island with the best views of the fireworks. The fire department had parked a horse-drawn replica fire truck in the schoolyard where the fire chief had a gaggle of children enthralled as they tried on fire hats and climbed up on the vehicle, imagining chasing through the streets ready to start a bucket brigade to save the fort or any of the houses on the strip. His face was animated and his Irish storytelling was in full gear.

“Bruce makes a great storyteller,” I said to Mom.

“His dad was great at it as well.”

“That whole family could tell a fat tale and make you believe every word of it no matter how ridiculous it was,” Dad said.

Our mood was light as children squealed and ran around in front of us with red, white, and blue streamers and poppers. Once twilight set, they would have sparklers and screaming chickens and replica tankers who would move a few inches and then send out a pop of smoke and noise from their long noses. Mal was a little skittish around the kids as they tended to not look where they were going and run over little dogs carrying their own leash.

Dad had staked out a very good spot and we set down our things. I tied Mal’s leash to one of the poles of the overhead tarp and she was content to rest on the blanket Dad had put down to mark our spot.

Mom went to work setting out the food on the top of the basket, piling plates and cups and utensils on the blanket.

“Hey, can we join you?” Trent came up from behind with his sister Paige and her boyfriend in tow. Mal jumped up and Trent gave her hello pats.

“Sure,” Dad said, puffing up his chest. “I take it I got a better spot than you. Next time you need to get here earlier.”

Trent agreed, but I noticed that Paige nudged her boyfriend when he opened his mouth to correct my dad. I followed her boyfriend’s gaze toward a site closer to the lakeshore where their parents sat in elegant chairs under a mosquito screened tarp. They had a buffet table filled with plates of food, a couple tall bar tables covered in linens and their place settings were white china and crystal wine glasses. A man in a chef coat worked at a stainless steel grill. In comparison, our little fete seemed lacking.

Trent came over and put his arm around my waist and gave me a quick kiss. “Thanks for letting us crash your party.”

“There’s plenty of food. Who’s this?” Mom asked of Paige and her boyfriend.

“Mom this is Paige Jessop, Trent’s sister,” I said. “And her boyfriend . . .”

“Reggie.” Paige rescued me and patted the man’s chest covered in a pale blue polo . “Reginald Owens the third.”

Reggie had that New England old money look. He had light brown hair cut close and preppy. His jaw was square and his eyes brown. His teeth were braces straight and glowingly white. At six foot two, wearing a polo shirt with a sweater tied around his shoulders and plaid Bermuda shorts, he looked like a Ken doll.

“Paige, this is my mother Ann McMurphy and my dad, Patrick McMurphy.”

“The last time I saw you, you were ten years old and all about horses,” Dad said and shook Paige’s hand and then her boyfriend. “Reginald Owens, are you local?” Dad drew his brows together. “I don’t remember the name.”

“Reggie is from Long Island,” Paige said. “We met at my sorority’s national meeting in New York this spring.”

“My mother, grandmother, and sister were all members of the sorority,” Reggie said with a grin. “They dragged me along for a family weekend.”

“Looks like you’re happy you went.” Mom opened the cooler. “Drinks, anyone? We have wine and beer and ice tea and soda.”

She poured wine and beer into clear plastic glasses. Knowing that there was crystal glassware at the Jessop tent did not mean our plastic was any worse. Seriously, who uses actual glassware at a picnic? Besides, Trent and the others had come over voluntarily.

“I’ve got extra chairs,” Jenn said as she and Shane approached with their hands full of folding chairs. Mal rushed over to greet her the moment she was close enough for the leash to reach. “Hi Mal. Are you being a good doggie?” She patted Mal on the head.

Trent and Reggie were quick to take the chairs from Jenn and set them up for everyone.

“Don’t sit before you have your food,” Mom warned. “We’re eating buffet style.”

Before we had a chance to think, Mom had corralled us into some semblance of a buffet line with paper plates and plastic silverware in hand as we dished up the picnic food. Soon Sandy and her grandmother and the rest of her family walked by, but they, too, had seats on the lakeshore so they didn’t stay.

It was one of those nearly perfect days with the soft breeze off the lake keeping us cool and the bugs to a minimum.

Paige and Reggie left after we finished eating and went to be with the Jessops. The sunset was a gorgeous red and orange and green then blue. I sat cross-legged on the blanket with Mal in my lap. Trent lounged on his side behind me, his hand around my waist. Mom and Dad sat in their chairs and held hands.

Jenn sat in Shane’s lap and the local summer band began to play the “Star Spangled Banner.” We all oohed when the first firework screamed into the air and then exploded with a bang as the last strains of music floated through the air.

Fireflies came out winking in and out with their green lighted tails. Mal left my lap and tried to catch one or two before the next firework went screaming up. It split into three and gave us red, white, and blue giant flowers. She decided it was safest to be in my lap. I bundled her up in a blanket and held her close as the fireworks grew closer together and filled the sky with sparkles and rockets and large blooms that fell safely to the lake underneath.

Halfway through the show, I caught Jenn’s gaze and smiled and gave her a thumbs up. After all, she had found us the fireworks to replace the ones that were vandalized. She smiled and gave me two thumbs up back.

I didn’t know what I was going to do next year when she moved back to Chicago for a high-paying job. I watched how Shane looked at her with so much caring in his gaze and my heart squeezed. Maybe I wouldn’t be the only one to miss her at the end of the season. Maybe, just maybe, she would have a reason to come back next year.

The finale was a spectacular five solid minutes of every kind of firework along with a dizzying array of colors and booming sounds. Mal whimpered in my arms and I knew that tomorrow I would tuck her safely into her crate in the McMurphy for the fireworks. She didn’t understand the booms and bangs and the human excitement. I gave her a comforting squeeze and the sky, once full of light, shimmered back to a soft black. Stars popped out giving us the real show of the night.

People were tired as they packed up. Moms and dads carried sleeping children. Preteens ran through the darkness playing games of flashlight tag. The air was filled with the scent of sulfur and I tried not to think about the explosion that killed Rodney. Still, the smell brought it all back so clearly.

“You okay?” Trent asked. We stood and he held me in his arms.

“Yes.” I laid my head on his broad warm chest. “The smell brought back the day Rodney died.”

“Mal seems a little unnerved as well.” Trent hugged us both close.

“I don’t think she liked the fireworks as much as we did,” I said.

“Good job on the fireworks, young lady.” Mrs. Amerson and her husband Richard strode by. He carried a chair in both hands and a large umbrella under his arm. He wore a windbreaker jacket, a dark T-shirt, and light-colored Dockers slacks. It was difficult to distinguish colors in the darkness left after the fireworks, but his bright white hair shone in the night.

“Thank-you. It was a team effort.” I pointed toward Jenn with my head and then glanced at Trent to let Mrs. Amerson know that while I would have taken all the responsibility if things had gone badly, I wouldn’t take all the credit for the success.

“It shows.” She gave a nod and walked off. She wore a light-colored sweater over a V-neck T-shirt, and long slacks. Her hair was pulled up into a severe bun. In her hands, she carried a single blanket that might have been a quilt. It was difficult to tell.

“Can we keep our stuff up for tomorrow’s show?” Mom asked.

“No,” I said. “The Star Spangled Fourth committee ensures that all blankets and tarps and markers are taken down. No one is allowed to stake out a spot for the Fourth until twelve-o-one
AM
. That way, every day, everyone has equal chance of staking out a nice spot.”

“I think this spot works well,” Dad said as he pulled the tarp down. “Does everyone else agree?”

“We do,” Trent said and stepped over to help Dad remove the tarp from the poles and the poles from the ground.

“I’ll try to get out here first thing in the morning and put it back up,” Dad said as he put the rolled-up tarp into its carrying case.

“I’m working third shift or I’d offer to stake it out for you, Mr. McMurphy,” Shane said.

“Not a problem. I’ll set my alarm and get out here by six
AM
.”

“Maybe you should set it for five
AM
,” Mom said. “My guess is that there will be more people out for the fireworks tomorrow.”

“Hi Allie,” Cyndy Crumbly walked by with Oliver beside her. They were headed back toward town, both carried coolers with blankets rolled up on top. “Great show.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Hi Oliver.”

He lowered his head and muttered something in return. I assumed it was a nice greeting.

“We’ll talk later,” I said to Cyndy, who nodded and bumped into her son.

“Come on, Oliver. Let’s get home.”

“Is that the Oliver whose name is on the arson board?” Dad asked me as he picked up the cooler.

“The very same.” Holding Mal in her blanket, I picked up the remaining chair with my good hand. Trent helped by carrying the drink cooler I had brought out. “I don’t think he’s the fire starter. At least I don’t want to think so.”

“He certainly has reasons to be angry.” Frances and Mr. Devaney had come up the trail behind us.

“Where were you two?” Dad asked. “I had a great spot.”

“Douglas has a private place where he goes every year,” Frances explained quickly. Her tone sounded excited and embarrassed at the same time.

If it weren’t so dark out, I’d swear she was blushing.

“Is it big enough for all of us?” Dad asked. “We could be together tomorrow.”

“It’s quite small,” Frances said, her tone growing warmer.

“I keep it small so that my students can’t stumble in and ruin my enjoyment,” Mr. Devaney said. “It’s perfect for two.”

“I like where we were today, Dad,” I said in an attempt to rescue Frances from further embarrassment. It was clear they had enjoyed their secret space and alone time.

“I have to agree with Allie, Mr. McMurphy,” Trent said. “This really was a great spot.”

I wanted to kiss Trent for saying that. Frances’s shoulders relaxed a bit.

“Okay,” Dad said with pride in his voice. “I’ll come out early tomorrow and secure us the same spot. Frances, you and Doug are welcome to join us.”

“We’ll consider it,” Mr. Devaney said. “Good night.”

“We need to get to bed,” Mom said, linking her arms through Dad’s. “Especially if you are getting up early to stake our claim. Good night, kids. Don’t stay up too late.”

Good night, Mrs. McMurphy,” Trent said. We let them stroll ahead of us.

“I wonder when Frances and Mr. Devaney are going to come clean about their relationship. It’s not like they’re hiding anything from anyone . . . except maybe my dad.”

Trent chuckled. He had his arm around me and I could feel the rumble of it that ran through his body. “Let them have their secret for a while. Maybe things are just too new for them to share.”

“They’ve been dating longer than we have,” I pointed out as Mal wiggled in my arms.

“Yes, well, I made my intentions clear and public from the start.” He squeezed me. “Come on. Let’s take this stuff back to the McMurphy while we still have some time to make out on your couch.” He waggled his eyebrows and I felt the heat of a blush rush up my cheeks.

“Oh.” All my thoughts melted into a pile of mush.

He leaned over and kissed me for good measure. It was a sweet and lingering kiss that promised more. I noticed that the park had emptied and the air was quiet. The stars twinkled overhead and the scent of dew was on the air.

Mal squirmed in my arms and I realized I was holding her tight. When I loosened my grip, she leapt out of my arms, gathered up her leash, and raced off.

“Wait, Mal!” I called. She was not headed toward the McMurphy. Silly puppy. She knew the way home.

“I’ll get her,” Trent said and handed me the cooler. He took off after her in the night.

While I didn’t have to worry about her getting hit by a car, I still didn’t like the idea of her running off. Anything could happen. She could be run over by a carriage or fall into a pit or something.

Okay the pit thought was a bit dramatic, but that didn’t stop the worry. I hurried after Trent as fast as I could encumbered by the cooler, chair, and blanket. It was hard to rush and juggle things with a splint on my thumb. “Mal, come back here!”