Bury the Hatchet in Dead Mule Swamp (25 page)

“So?” Adele said. “Most of
us know this already.”

“So,” Jack continued,
shifting in his seat to lean toward her, “As a tribal member I’m
entitled to casino profits. But I had to have a DNA test done.
They’re getting really fussy about payouts to impostors, people who
can’t really prove their ancestry. It turned out I’m actually a
quarter Pottawatomi. Probably my great-grandfather was Indian
too.”

“And that kept you away for
three weeks?” I asked.

“I’ll admit I wanted a
vacation. They gave me some of the money, outright, with a promise
of more if the test was positive, so I got a room at the casino
hotel and did a little gambling.” His face lit up.

“That was foolish, don’t
you think?” Adele scolded.

“Perhaps.” Jack admitted.
“But it was recreation, and I know when to stop.”

“That’s what everyone
says,” Adele scoffed.

“True enough, but I really
did stop.”

I was beginning to get the
picture. “How much did you win?” I exclaimed, not thinking how much
I sounded like Adele, for asking.

“No, no. No actual numbers,
my beautiful guests.” Jack grinned and flashed his broad smile at
us. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t have to work any more.”

“Oh, Jack!” Adele reached
across the table and touched his hand lightly, then withdrew
it.

His pride deflated a little
bit, perhaps as a touch of reality tempered his boast. “Well, I
won’t have to work as much,” he admitted. “But I like what I do. I
like the diner, and talking to the regulars. I’m a good cook, and
by golly, I contribute to this town. But the place isn’t going to
be such a dump, and I've made a down payment on the empty
storefront next door. I'll have more tables, a handicap entrance
and legal rest rooms. I should be open again before
Christmas.”

“That’s really wonderful,”
I agreed.

“I’ll donate a gift
certificate for four meals for a door prize. How’s that sound?”
With that rhetorical question, he popped another piece of jelly
roll in his mouth, nodded to each of us, then took his mug and
walked to the table saw. We were clearly dismissed.

Chapter 38

Adele was like a dog with a
bone when it came to getting things organized for the Ball. She
still insisted I come to her house after we left the Pine Tree. We
made more lists and phoned people from all three churches. She
extracted promises of tablecloths, more chairs, serving utensils,
candle holders, trash cans and liners, and rolls of raffle tickets.
People promised to deliver them to the school after their
respective services the following day.

She boldly volunteered the
Family Friends Committee to wash all the dishes. She did call the
committee members to ask if they’d participate in the project, but
each and every person she talked to knew that “no” was not going to
be an acceptable answer. As I drove home, I made a mental note to
ask Jerry if the sinks and hot water in the school kitchen were
working.

The following morning, the
Sunday worship service provided a much-needed uplift. For the past
few months I’d been attending Crossroads Fellowship fairly
regularly. I liked the mixture of hymns with modern praise songs.
Dwight Morris kept the tempo up as he worked the organ with hands
and feet, producing harmonious tones. Following the singing of the
inspiring hymn, “Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise,” young men and
women stepped to the podium and lifted guitars and a bass from
their stands. A teenager slithered through the maze of electric
cords and seated himself behind a drum set. He beat out a rousing
paradiddle, and the worship team led us in “You Wear the Victor’s
Crown.” The words to all the songs were displayed on a screen
mounted at the front left of the church. Some people weren’t as
familiar with the newer songs, but they were undaunted, and sang
with fervor. The hymns had more complex words and music, but the
newer tunes were easier for some people to sing. The variety of
music was one of the things I liked best about the
service.

Most everyone who attended
this church was accepting, cheerful and kind. Of course, every sort
of organization has a few members who are more interested in their
own agendas, but overall, this congregation made me feel that it
stood for right and good, but wasn’t trying to beat up those who
didn’t agree with every detail of doctrine.

Following the opening
songs, Rev. Dornbaugh began the announcements. I was distracted for
a few minutes by a woman I didn’t know, sitting several rows in
front of me, who had shiny hot-pink hair. It looked synthetic,
straight off a fashion doll. She turned around and discovered me
looking at her. Grinning widely, she rotated her head quickly back
and forth, making the straight shoulder-length strands swing. Then
she raised her hands, palms up, and fluffed the ends, making the
most of the encounter. I smiled back at her, and she
laughed.

The pastor’s voice broke
into my thoughts as I heard the words “...Harvest Ball. We want to
be sure to support this community effort, and I encourage everyone,
of any age, who is able, to plan on attending. All the churches are
lending a hand to make this the outstanding event of the year in
Cherry Hill.”

There was a smattering of
applause. Adele was sitting behind me, and she leaned forward and
tapped me on the shoulder. “We’ve got to get something organized
for the children,” she whispered urgently. “There’s bound to be a
hundred or more. See me afterwards.”

“OK,” I whispered as a new
wave of panic washed over me, and then I turned back toward the
front. The sermon began.

After every Sunday service
Adele helped serve light refreshments in the Fellowship Hall, so it
was easy to find her.

“You’d better head right
over to the school,” she admonished. “There are deliveries expected
from all the churches. You’ve got a key, right?”

“I do,” I verified, fishing
in my purse to be sure it was there.

She grabbed Harvard Brown,
the Sheriff’s Deputy who attended our church. He was in civilian
clothes today. “Harvey, can you go with Ana to the school to help
unload chairs and other things folks are bringing over?”

“Sure,” Harvey agreed, his
toothy smile lighting up his dark face.

“And see if you can talk
someone into planning games for the elementary school kids,” Adele
added to me, as if it were nothing monumental.

Frankly, I was feeling more
than overwhelmed with the number of tasks that remained to be
accomplished in one week’s time. Nevertheless, as each car or truck
pulled up, I asked the occupants for suggestions as to who might be
a good person to organize games. A few names were tossed out. I
then directed the vehicles to the rear where things could be
unloaded without having to carry bulky loads up the long flight of
front steps.

I was still there at
one-fifteen. I hadn’t eaten a thing, and had convinced exactly zero
volunteers to take on the responsibility of herding excited
children. At least I had a water bottle in my purse. It was turning
into a hot, bright October day, and I would have been miserable
without even a drink. It seemed as if the stream of deliveries was
winding down, and I thought I’d run inside and see how Harvey was
doing.

Just then, Adele pulled up
in front of the school in her sturdy Ford, followed by Jerry in his
shiny silver Sebring. Riding with Adele was the woman with the pink
hair. Adele bustled from the car to the door, balancing a paper
plate full of sandwich quarters and cookies in one hand and a
Styrofoam cup of coffee in the other.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t give
you a chance to grab a bite to eat,” she said, “but I hope you’ll
forgive me. I brought something even better than food. This is
Cheyanne Bascomb. Cheyanne, Ana. She says she’d be thrilled to
handle the children.”

I looked at the young
woman. Not only did she have pink hair, but there was a pink and
purple butterfly tattoo on her neck and the light glinted off
several studs which pierced her nose and eyebrows, as well as her
ears.

“Are you sure?” I asked,
incredulous.

“Absolutely.” Cheyanne
grinned. “I love kids. I run a daycare center in Waabishki. It will
be fun to spend time with some who are already potty trained, and
can follow directions. There are lots of games we can
play.”

“I told Jerry to come,”
Adele continued. “We need to designate a room for this.”

Jerry had joined our small
group just as Cheyanne was delivering her promise to help, and
Harvey poked his head out the front door at about the same time. We
all entered the school building. It no longer looked dingy nor
smelled musty. The primary aroma was fresh paint. Although I knew
most of the rooms were still neglected, the hallway had been
painted and the floors cleaned and buffed. Light fixtures had been
fitted with working bulbs.

Jerry led the way to the
end of the left hallway and opened a door which led into a
classroom twice the size of any of the others I’d seen.

“This is the old
kindergarten room,” he explained. “Everyone in town over the age of
fifty learned everything they need to know, right here.”

The room had large
cupboards beneath the windows, and there was plenty of open space
for relay games or forming circles.

He turned to Cheyanne. “Do
you think you can uphold that tradition, Miss Bascomb?”

She laughed again. “I’m not
sure we can accomplish that in one evening of playtime, but we’ll
try to keep the cherubs from pulling out each other’s
wings.”

“Good enough,” Jerry agreed
with a chuckle.

“Maybe I can get some of my
friends to help. Don’t worry about a thing.”

“And we’ll get the painting
volunteers in here tomorrow,” Jerry promised. “One more room
shouldn’t be a problem.”

Chapter 39

Adele, Harvey and Cheyanne
drove away, and I sat down on the front steps to eat the lunch my
friend had brought. Jerry moved around to stand in front of me, a
couple of steps lower.

“Take a step that way if
you would,” I requested, pointing west.

“Why?” he asked, although
he did shuffle to the left.

“Sun’s in my eyes,” I said,
stuffing a pimento and cream cheese sandwich quarter in my
mouth.

“Ah. Glad to be of service,
madam.”

I spent the next few
minutes eating, while Jerry watched me. My mouth was still full of
chocolate-chip cookie when I thought about washing
dishes.

“Is the plumbing working in
the kitchen? Will there be hot water? It will be so much easier for
Janice and her helpers if she’s able to wash some dishes while the
catering is going on.”

“I’ll find out,” Jerry
said. He looked down at me kindly with a bit of a wistful
expression on his face. “I want to thank you for all the effort
you’ve put into this event.”

I stuck out my lower lip
and blew upwards to move a stray hair that was hanging in my eyes.
“It’s not a problem,” I said. “It’s just that there’s a ton of
stuff to prepare, and the building is going to be great, but I
can’t count on any of the amenities one usually expects in a
facility. That makes it a bit stressful.”

Jerry shifted, and I
squinted as the sun glared in my eyes again. “Oh, sorry,” he said,
repositioning himself so that his shadow fell across my face. “I
think it will be worth all the work, on so many levels. Have you
talked to Cora?”

“I have. And that’s such a
mystery to me. She really is jealous; she all but said it! Thinks
you and I are spending a lot of time together, and she feels
neglected.”

He rubbed his hands
together and smiled. “Perfect. I told you I knew her.”

I swallowed the last of my
coffee and started to stand, assuming we were done talking, but
Jerry motioned for me to sit down again.

“What?” I asked.

He seemed to change his
mind and instead beckoned me to come. “Let’s take a walk. That way
the sun won’t be in your eyes, and it will look good for adding
fuel to the green fire.”

“Out back? Did I tell you I
took a look at the river to see if someone could have floated a
body from the school to Jalmari?”

“Really? It seems as if it
would be too shallow here.”

“That’s what I
discovered.”

“No, let’s walk through
town. Much more reliable for being seen.” He stuck out his elbow
and I slipped my arm through it. We looked at each other and
stepped out in the direction of downtown in a very good imitation
of an old fashioned Sunday stroll, but without fancy clothing or a
parasol. The sun had become so bright I thought the parasol would
have been quite useful.

We’d only gone about half a
block when Jerry’s body language lost its casual feeling. He
stiffened slightly and leaned toward me. “There is one thing I want
to tell you about. I’ve been working on tracking that phone call
you received.”

When I stopped and glared
at him he held up his free hand in protest.

“Don’t get all legalistic
on me. I talked to Tracy. She thought I might be able to talk to
some people without creating such a stir as if she went after them.
After all, you’ve been doing some sleuthing on your
own.”