Maple Mayhem (A Sugar Grove Mystery) (4 page)

Byron’s pants were hitching down and his shirt was hitching up as he bent over the guts of a car he was tinkering on. I’ve known Byron a long time, both as my mechanic ever since my father died five years ago and also as the town animal control officer. No matter how comfortable he might be with showing off his body, I wasn’t comfortable with it at all. I cleared my throat and he stood up so quickly he banged his head on the hood. He must have whacked it just about where the hair on his head gave out and the baldness took over.

“Hey, Dani, you aren’t here about the Midget are you?” He stood rubbing the spot on his head. “’Cause you look a bit wild. I know you’re gonna want it back as soon as you can get it but I’ve got some other projects in line ahead of you.”

“Nope. Something entirely different.” Byron was right. I knew it wasn’t even possible but I had hoped to come in and find him putting the finishing touches on a new paint job.

“Good, because I won’t have it ready for you for another few days, at least. So what can I do for you?”

“I want you to do something about Frank Lemieux and his dog.” My heart rate had slowed to just above normal but just saying so brought the whole thing back to my mind. I could feel my breath becoming shallow and my palms getting clammy.

“Has Beau been a bit playful again?” Byron wiped his hands on a greasy rag and smiled at me.

“He wasn’t being playful. He was looking to exercise his jaws. On me.”

“He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Frank set him on me and he chased me across the yard, into my car, and all the way down to the main road. I don’t call that playing.”

“He was just fooling around.”

“Frank’s dog tried to use me as a chew toy.”

“See, he was playing.” Byron reached out a beefy hand and patted me on the top of the head. At well under five feet tall with freckles and a youthful glow, I have had a lot of people mistake me for a child. But usually they don’t go so far as to pat me. Especially not if they actually know me and my real age. Being chased down by a dog was one thing, being patronized by the dogcatcher was another, even if I did trust him with my car. Now my dander was up, even if my height wasn’t.

“Are you going to do your job or not?” I peeled his hand off my head and Byron stuck it in the pocket of his coveralls.

“Are you telling me how to do my job?”

“I’d never tell you how to work on a car but as a tax payer I can tell you I am not as happy as I would like to be with the local animal control officer. Why are you so reluctant to do something about this?”

“Did the dog in question keep chasing you after you left its own property?”

“No.”

“Did the owner invite you onto the property in the first place?”

“Not exactly.”

“Did anyone else see what happened?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You know I like you, Dani, but there isn’t anything I can do. I could waste my time driving up there and giving Frank a warning but he will just tear it up in my face and say the government has no right to tell him what to do on his own land.”

“But he can’t just do stuff like that. Someone could be seriously hurt. Frank is not just a pain in the butt. He’s a whack job.”

“You might be right but he has his reasons.”

“I think he might have been the one to damage the Midget.”

“
No
way
he’d do that to a car, especially a vintage one. Besides, once you get to know him he has some good qualities.”

“Name one.” I hadn’t ever seen anything from Frank to make that sound like Byron hadn’t lost his marbles, too.

“He served in the military.”

“So did a lot of people.”

“He caretakes his land as well as your grandfather.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“And he took care of his wife even though she was actually crazy.” I didn’t know Iris, his late wife, had been crazy. I knew she didn’t get out much and that, Phoebe, never talked about her when we were in school together. It had been a bit odd that Frank, the stepfather, was always the one to come to open house events and school concerts.

“I didn’t know that. What was wrong with her?”

“After Phoebe was born Iris fell into postpartum depression. Her husband left her after a couple years and she started having even more trouble. She couldn’t bring herself to leave the house. Frank used to do odd jobs and she hired him to deliver firewood and to take her trash to the dump. One thing turned into another and he moved in. They got married a while later and he stayed with her through thick and thin after that.”

“I know he and Phoebe are close.”

“I almost think he was more invested in Phoebe than he was in Iris. I don’t even think you have been more loved than that kid. And that’s saying something.” It was. With a family like mine there was no danger of not feeling loved at all times, More like feeling smothered by all the love. Stifled and overprotected. Watched with hawk-eyed fervor. But unloved, never. My family was so into giving me love they kept trying to marry me off to expand the love in my life to a whole new level. They were even more frustrated than I about how slowly my romance with Graham was unfolding.

“How do you know all this?”

“Frank’s a friend of mine. We sometimes get together and talk over a few beers. I don’t like the government in my business any more than he does.”

“I had no idea.”

“This may be a small town and you may be well connected but you don’t know everything that goes on around here.” I was about to feel insulted by the implication that I was a busybody when his cell phone rang. After a hurried conversation Byron hung up and grabbed his keys. “I’ve got to go.”

“Someone need a tow?”

“Loose dog that needs rounding up. It might bite someone. Lock up when you leave, would you?” Byron grabbed his uniform jacket from the Sugar Grove Police Department and waved at me as he hurried out the door.

*   *   *

I headed back to the Stack. I had hardly made a dent in my breakfast when Piper had noticed Mitch ticketing the Midget. I was angry, hungry, and worried and needed a cup of coffee. And maybe some fries.

Piper, manning the counter as usual, took one look at me and called out an order of fries and a Reuben club sandwich to the cook in the back.

“Sorry about your car.”

“I just can’t believe it. Who would do something like that?”

“According to popular opinion, it was Frank.”

“I’m not surprised. He was so hateful about the cooperative in the first place. As a matter of fact I went up to see Frank, Tansey, and Kenneth already, trying to do some damage control.”

“So how’d it go with the three bears?” Piper was fond of fairy tales and referenced them often. She had storybook-themed tattoos all over her body, including one on her calf depicting the cottage from
Hansel and Gretel
.

“About like I expected. Tansey agreed to continue to participate. Kenneth was cautious and said he needed to consult Nicole. And Frank gave me his grassy knoll/alien speech and sent me packing with the help of his trusty hellhound. I just hope he leaves it at that and doesn’t do anything else to rile people up and to make them drop out. The more participants, the better the prices will be for everyone.”

“Frank’s a wild card. You’ll just have to wait and see.” Piper popped the lid off a locally produced maple soda and poured it neatly into a glass.

“I’m hoping some other sort of scandal erupts to take his mind off the cooperative. Have you heard anything brewing around town?”

“Burton Cargill spoke up at the last zoning-board meeting and asked about decency ordinances in town.”

“You mean like an adult-movie rental business?” I was shocked. Sugar Grove was such a clean-living sort of place I’d expect brown paper wrapped packages to spontaneously combust if they crossed the town line in the back of a mail truck. Who could imagine anyone going to such a place? My grandmother might die of shame just knowing it had been suggested. It would have to be aimed at tourists. Or Mitch. I could picture him stopping in while on duty, ostensibly to ensure no criminal activities were occurring and then confiscating DVDs for so-called quality inspections.

“Nope, a tanning parlor. One of the old ladies spoke up and said people ought not to be allowed to be naked in a public building in town under any circumstances. Should make for a nice piece in the paper don’t you think?” Piper wiped the counter down with a vintage crocheted dishcloth from her vast collection. Anytime Piper is able to tear herself away from the restaurant, which isn’t often, we’ll head out to the nearest flea market, antiques shop, or garage sale for a bit of vintage kitsch buying. Piper has filled the whole place on the cheap with Formica tables, Fire-King mugs, and paint-by-number paintings by visiting the sales.

She lives year-round in a 1950s camper at the campground her parents own, a couple of miles off the highway. It seems like it ought to be drafty and miserable but my brother helped her put up some insulation and installed a propane fireplace. The whole thing is closed up tighter than a new pickle jar. It is cheap to heat, easy to clean, and cute besides. I envy her having her own place. She says I ought to buy a camper of my own and park it next to hers on the adjoining lot like a couple of old widowed sisters. I told her I already have a sister who is enough for one lifetime, maybe two. Still, the idea does have appeal.

“A tanning parlor? That’s almost as bad. I think I’d rather have a smutty magazine stand. Those don’t cause cancer and wrinkles like a pug. At least I don’t think they do.”

“Maybe wrinkles around the eyes and between the brows from the astonishment at what’s between the covers but not cancer. Not that I’ve ever heard anyway.”

“Although I guess you can’t download a tan onto your computer the way you can download a lot of other stuff.”

“How would you know about things to download, little miss prim and proper?” Piper asked. I was spared answering by the bell dinging for my sandwich. The cook, Charlie, must have realized it was for me because the sandwich was toasted to the very near side of burnt and a hillock of sweet potato fries threatened to erode right off the plate. Charlie and I agree about the superiority of sweet potato fries to that of any other sort and it has produced a lasting bond between us. Piper clattered the plate onto the long counter and asked a new question.

“So, will you be at meat bingo tomorrow night?”

“Have you heard who else will be there?”

“I will,” I heard a voice say from behind me. A nasally voice pitched just high enough to make you wonder if it was a man or a woman speaking. Knowlton Pringle. I’d been lucky enough to avoid him over at Tansey’s since he was a late riser, and was the real reason I had visited her first. Avoiding Knowlton was both a hobby and an art form. He was known to turn up anywhere either my sister or I might be and it really didn’t matter which of us he ran into. As far as we could tell from comparing notes, a Greene was a Greene was a Greene to him and he was determined to marry one of us. He hadn’t even noticed when Celadon got married to her husband, Clarke. He just went right on pursuing her with the same vigor he had all along. I’m not saying Knowlton is a bad guy, but it is going to take a certain kind of woman to want to spend the rest of her life with him. My guess is a dead one.

Knowlton had been ahead of me by a couple of grades in school and had been in my brother Loden’s graduating class. He lives with his mother, Tansey, on the family farm and is an acclaimed local taxidermist. I think his dream girl is probably one who would like to be stuffed and realistically posed after death. Every time he looks at me I can feel him thinking about how best to orient my arms and tilt my chin if he ever had the opportunity. He woke so late because he spends his nights wandering the highways and byways looking for roadkill to stuff. Little kids told each other ghostly stories at sleepovers about Knowlton, the man who wandered in the dark looking for the dead to carry home to his workshop.

He always smelled of something chemically that I secretly hoped was drugs even though I knew it was embalming fluid. Worse still, he stood too close when he talked to you and bent his face within inches of your own. His understanding of personal boundary space was not American in standard and I am not actually sure if it corresponded with any country on earth.

Knowlton has been on my do-not-call list since I was in the second grade. If this were a big city, I’d probably have taken out a restraining order on him years ago but it isn’t and doing so would just be awkward. It would essentially mean neither of us could be downtown at the same time without violating it. Besides, his mother was someone I needed to support the cooperative and siccing the police on her son was not likely to inspire trust or participation.

Knowlton brushed past me, his flannel shirt embedded with animal hairs of unidentifiable sorts. I flicked something off my shirtsleeve that he deposited as he passed. Raccoon maybe. Or skunk from the scent wafting off him.

“Will I see you there, Dani?” Knowlton asked, wrapping his arm around my back as he went for the sugar.

“She’ll save you a seat, I’m sure,” Piper said, winking at him. She winked. She actually winked. I wished just once a creepy guy would turn his attention on Piper instead of all the interesting ones who were fascinated by her. Like the artists, photographers, and writers who made the pilgrimage to her family’s campground. Or the nice guys with normal jobs who stopped in for pancakes and coffee and a helping of Piper’s smile on their way to work several times each week. Like the road crew guys, the state troopers, and the men who worked at the ski lodge.