Shelley Freydont - Celebration Bay 03 - Independence Slay (3 page)

Liv was looking forward to a little sleep herself. Right after dinner. And for once the fridge was semi-stocked. Thanks to the 4-H’s July kickoff barbecue, there were leftover spare ribs, potato salad, and rhubarb pie in her fridge, as well as a bottle of crisp, chilled pinot grigio, not from 4-H, but from the local wine store.

As soon as Liv opened the front door, a white whirlwind shot past her, ran a maniacal circle around her feet, and raced back inside.

“Good to see you, too,” Liv said, and followed the excited Westie inside.

Whiskey was sitting by his bowl when Liv entered the kitchen. There was fresh water and a cleanly licked food bowl.

“Nice try,” Liv said. “I’m going to have to change your name to Roly-Poly if we don’t start getting more exercise.” It was still early, but Liv had no desire to drag on jogging clothes and spend the remaining daylight pounding the pavement.

She yawned. “You get a reprieve tonight. But Saturday morning—no, Sunday morning, right after church—you and I are going for a run.”

Whiskey’s ears flipped up to alert. Muzzle down, tail up, and ready for flight.

Liv laughed. “Not tonight. Tonight I put my feet up.” She reached into the fridge for the platter of ribs.

• • •

Miss Ida was out sweeping the sidewalk the next morning when Liv and Whiskey left for work. She was the slighter of the two sisters, with white hair that she kept pulled back in a bun. She had a penchant for twin sets and floral dresses, and today she was wearing a shirtwaist of tiny blue flowers and a lightweight red sweater.

“Morning, Liv.” Miss Ida slipped her hand into the pocket of the sweater, and Whiskey sat at her feet. “Just a little bit of biscuit,” she told the attentive Westie and handed him a morsel. “Everyone will try to feed him today. And Dolly has the cutest little flag d-o-g b-i-s-c-u-i-t-s,” she told Liv.

Whiskey stood, barked, and gave Liv a reproachful look.

Miss Ida laughed. “I’m afraid he may have learned to spell.”

Great
, Liv thought,
a singing, spelling dog
. What would be next? “Have a nice day, Miss Ida. I’ll see you later.”

Whiskey pulled on the leash.

“Heel,” Liv commanded.

“Arf.” Whiskey started down the street, dragging Liv with him.

“Edna and I are helping with the DAR float this morning,” Miss Ida called after her. “We’ll pick him up and bring him home with us after l-u-n-c-h. And keep him for the fireworks. All that noise can’t be good for his little ears.”

“You’re not going to the reenactment and fireworks?” Liv asked, walking backward as Whiskey pulled her toward town.

“We never do, too many mosquitoes. And we can see well enough from an upstairs window.”

“Thank you-u-u-u,” Liv called back as Whiskey picked up speed. “Heel,” she commanded again. “Unless you want to go back to obedience school.”

Whiskey sneezed, shook his head, and slowed down.

There was already a line out the door to the Apple of My Eye Bakery. Dolly must have been watching for them, because she ran out with a bag of goodies for Liv and Ted and a rectangular American-flag doggie biscuit. It even had the thirteen stars made of some kind of icing, which Liv knew would be healthy. Dolly’s recipes had passed inspection by Sharise over at the Woofery, who now sold Dolly’s Doggie Treats from her grooming business.

Next door, BeBe Ford, proprietor and barista of the Buttercup Coffee Exchange, was doing a brisk business. All lush curves and dry wit, BeBe was also Liv’s best bud in Celebration Bay.

“Crazy weekend,” she said as she steamed the milk for Liv’s coffee.

While she waited, Liv looked around at the small area where a coffee bar lined one wall and a few small tables crowded every inch of non-pedestrian space.

“You and Dolly should combine forces and get a larger place.”

“We’ve talked about it a hundred times. Can’t find one that suits our needs for a price we can afford. And then outfitting new surroundings—ugh.” BeBe slid a cardboard tray with Liv’s latte and Ted’s tea across the counter. “No time to talk. Maybe tomorrow. No, I can’t. Dinner next week?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Liv said.

Ted was waiting for Liv and Whiskey at the door to the office. He was wearing a bright-blue buttoned shirt and a red striped vest.

“How’s my favorite da-a-awg today?” Ted crooned and leaned over to scratch Whiskey’s ears.

“Aroo-roo-roo.”

“Well, I’m so glad you feel that way. But if we’re going to sing at the parade tomorrow…” Ted sighed dramatically and gave Liv a look reminiscent of the one Whiskey had shot her while she was conversing with Miss Ida. “We’re woefully under-rehearsed. Yankee Doodle went to town…”

“Aar roo roo roo aar roo roo-o-o-o-o.”

Liv groaned, hurried into her office, and closed the door. So far Ted had taught him to sing “Jingle Bells,” the “Hallelujah Chorus,” and “Danny Boy” for St. Patrick’s Day, all of which sounded very much the same. “Yankee Doodle” promised no surprises.

But it entertained the both of them. And there were some people in town, namely her landladies and Dolly Hunnicutt, who thought it was a clever trick.

Liv spent most of the day at her desk making last-minute phone calls and double-checking everyone’s schedules. For the first few hours, she jumped every time a firecracker went off, but gradually became inured to the sound.

Miss Ida and Miss Edna picked Whiskey up at four, and Ted and Liv walked to the Gallantine House early to triple-check that everything was in order, the fireworks were set up, the troops were ready, the boats were in position out on the water. But when Liv suggested they double-check with Henry Gallantine about manning the lantern that night, Ted dug in his heels.

“Already done. You worry too much.”

“It’s—”

“Your job, I know. But everything is fine. Spray yourself with bug spray and let’s go get some lemonade.”

Liv held her breath and sprayed. There were few times when she missed the city, but mosquito season was definitely becoming one of them.

The crowds were already milling around the street vendors, loading up on food and drink. At six o’clock, security opened several designated entrances in the gates, and people flooded through only to be stopped by volunteers who searched their bags and took their tickets.

As soon as they were inside the gates, veterans rushed to get the prime seats on the bleachers. Within the hour, most of the seats were taken, and the standing-room area was shoulder to shoulder.

Liv and Ted took their seats on the bleachers one row below the mayor, Jeremiah Atkins—local banker and one of the town trustees—and Janine Townsend, the ex–event coordinator, who still managed to put herself wherever the action was.

It was a perfect summer night with a sliver of moon just appearing as the afternoon turned to dusk. As it grew dark, glow-in-the-dark necklaces and bracelets competed with the fireflies and turned children into shadowy aliens.

Only the mansion was spotlighted from below, which cast eerie shadows against the stone and ramparts, making the old mansion look like a movie set. Liv was sure she could see Henry Gallantine’s hand in the presentation.

The ships looked like black silhouettes against the water.

The crowd became quiet. Children strained forward to see what would happen next. Anticipation rippled through Liv.

A voice worthy of reciting the Declaration of Independence began the story of the Battle of the Bay: “It was on a summer night when General Haynes received word that the British had begun moving ships toward the fort of Ticonderoga, but they were never to arrive. For from the roof of his house on the lake, Henry Gallantine signaled the British approach and called the patriots of our great state to arms. Here is the story of those brave men who preserved the freedom of all New York.”

It was thrilling, if mainly hyperbole and a good deal of imagination.

Just as the sun completely disappeared behind the crowd, someone cried, “There. It’s the ghost of Henry Gallantine. Up on the parapet.”

All eyes turned to the roof of the mansion.

A figure hovered behind the stone parapet, perfectly framed in an eerie light that made him look otherworldly. Liv was duly impressed. And she let herself be pulled into the action as the figure lifted the lantern. It blinked once, twice, and again. Then the light went out, and the lantern and figure disappeared.

From the shadows of the trees, the patriots crept stealthily onto the lawn. The lights rose just enough to see their uniforms, swords, rifles, and deadly bayonet-tipped muskets. First the left flank, then the right, until fifty men met in the middle of the lawn, waiting for their leader.

“You’re positive none of those rifles and muskets work?” Liv asked.

“Authentic, but not loaded. We used to fire them but it was a pain in the butt. Sometimes literally,” Ted whispered. “Another reason we added the British ships,”

Out on the lake light rose on several “British” ships.

And as the American army joined as one and turned toward the lake, a rider and horse galloped from behind the mansion. Daniel Haynes reined in before his troops and brandished his sword as the stallion rose on its hind legs.

There were exclamations of delight and awe from the bleachers. Liv had to admit it was pretty spectacular, and the fireworks hadn’t even begun.

With the general leading the way, the patriots rushed to the lakeshore, where the general rode out of view—to dismount at the horse trailer, Liv supposed. The others dispersed, climbed into boats and started to row.

All the lights went out. Even those of the vendors across the street. Only the ships were backlit from some unseen source, and the silent black boats fanning out around them were silhouetted by the moon.

As they rowed closer to the ships, the final light blinked out, leaving total darkness except for the starlit sky as the patriot boats disappeared into the night.

Where, Liv knew, they would be tied up at neighboring docks until the next morning. The men would return to the Elks’ hall and hand in their uniforms. They’d change back into street clothes to enjoy the rest of the fireworks with everyone else. But for now it was magical.

“Good timing,” Liv whispered to Ted.

“Got it down to a science,” Ted said as the first spray of brilliant red fireworks lit the sky.

The crowd
aah
ed. A baby started crying.

Liv leaned toward Ted. “Now, that is very effective.”

But Ted wasn’t watching the fireworks. He was looking back at the roof, where the figure with the lantern had reappeared. The light was flashing. In short and long bursts.

“Is that part of the show?” Liv asked.

Ted shook his head.

“What is it?” Liv demanded, suddenly alarmed.

“It’s Morse code for SOS.” He was already climbing down the bleachers.

Ted jumped down from the bleachers and reached back to give Liv a hand, but she was already on the ground and running toward the house.

“Liv, wait,” Ted called, jogging after her.

She slowed long enough for him to catch up.

“Do you have a plan?” he asked, only slightly out of breath.

She shook her head.

“Then follow me.” He led her around the side of the house to the front door, where two security people were posted to prevent tourists from bothering the inhabitants.

They stopped Liv as she ran toward them. “Sorry. The house is off-limits to visitors. If you’re looking for a bath—”

“I’m the event coordinator,” Liv said, reaching for her ID card. She had to yell over the exploding fireworks. The sky was lit up in reds, greens, yellows, blues. “There’s a problem with the production.”

The guard looked at the card, looked at her.

“Please hurry,” Liv said, then caught a glimpse of a very large man striding down the street. He passed beneath the light of the street lamp, and Liv recognized the shaved head and wide shoulders of A.K. Pierce, head of Bayside Security, whom Liv had hired as additional event security. “Mr. Pierce. A.K.! Over here!”

A.K. looked up, zeroed in on her, and strode through the wrought-iron gates to meet her.

“Ms. Montgomery? Is there a problem?”

“There might be. Ted saw an SOS signal coming from the parapet where the ghost signals the patriots to attack.”

“Isn’t that a part of the show?”

“The first signal, but the second SOS signal didn’t start until after the fireworks began,” she explained, then looked to Ted for confirmation.

“That’s right, someone is up there flashing an SOS. I think we should see what the situation is.”

“Absolutely.” A.K. strode past them and up the front steps and pounded on the heavy wooden door. When it didn’t open immediately, he pounded again. “Security,” he boomed.

He waited a few seconds while he looked around the outside of the house, possibly considering the efficacy of breaking one of the windows. He raised his hand to pound again when the door opened several inches and Hildy Ingersoll peered out.

“This house… is… off-limits,” she huffed out.

Liv was reaching for her ID but Pierce already had his open.

Hildy looked at it. “What’s this?”

“Are you the lady of the house?”

“The housekeeper,” Ted said. “Hildy. It’s Ted Driscoll. There’s trouble up on the roof.”

“What kind of trouble, to get me running to the door with all that banging?” She sucked in a deep breath. “Those kids up to their tricks? I told Mr. G not to let them in the house. Nothing but trouble. We’re not responsible, I told him. But he don’t listen. Got a soft spot for them rascals. The more fool he.” She had to stop to suck in air. “But you can believe those bleeding-heart do-gooders will make trouble if one of us so much as sneezes at them. I say spare the rod—”

“Are there children in the house now?” Ted asked.

“Well, no, not now. But Mr. G—is something wrong with Mr. G?”

“Excuse us.” A.K. moved her aside and went through the door.

While she stared in surprise, Ted and Liv slipped in after him.

“You can’t just…” the housekeeper began.

“How do you access the roof?”

“Well, I—”

A look from A.K. and she clamped down on the words. “Upstairs. There’s pull-down stairs on the third floor.”

A.K. was already bounding up the wide staircase.

“You can’t go—” The housekeeper hiked up her skirts as if she meant to run after him.

Ted mumbled, “Sorry, Hildy, an emergency.” He ran past her to the stairs, Liv following.

Liv took the wide staircase two steps at a time and quickly passed Ted, but when she reached the second floor, she could hear A.K. running overhead. She sprinted down the hall and hauled up the next flight to the third floor.

She found A.K. pulling a folding stair down from the ceiling. He immediately began climbing toward a rectangular opening in the ceiling. As soon as he’d disappeared through the opening, Liv climbed after him. Ted stopped to catch his breath, then followed her.

The stairs led right to the roof and Liv reached the top just as another spray of fireworks lit the night.

A.K. had stopped a mere two feet away and was shining a flashlight around the periphery of the roof. The roof was flat; the stone parapet that surrounded it was about hip-high.

As Liv reached him, A.K. abruptly held out his arm, preventing her from moving forward.

She heard Ted climbing up through the opening, huffing slightly. He needed to get more exercise. Maybe she’d suggest he and Whiskey take up jogging instead of singing.

“See anything?” Ted asked, coming up to her.

“Nothing yet.”

The powerful beam from A.K.’s utility flashlight panned across the roof surface in meticulous order. No wild searching for this marine. He slowed as his light picked out dividing walls; illuminated dark corners only to plunge them into deeper darkness when the light moved on to the rounded walls of the turret, the square corners of the asymmetrical house; then ran along the individual stones of the parapet.

And out in the night the fireworks continued to light the sky. They only made the roof seem darker.

Liv was just beginning to think it was a false alarm when the light stopped, moved back, and came to rest on something lying on the floor.

A man dressed in the long brown coat of the Minutemen lay on his side. On the ground next to him, the lantern lay on its side, its light extinguished.

A.K. stepped forward and shined the flashlight beam directly on the man’s face, spotlighting the longish, lank hair covering his cheek.

“Stay here,” A.K. said, and bent over to peer at the fallen figure, checked for a pulse.

“Should I call nine-one-one?” Liv asked.

A.K. held up a hand for her to wait.

“Ted.” A.K. motioned him forward. Liv went, too.

A.K. thrust his flashlight into Ted’s hand and turned the man over.

The flashlight jerked in Ted’s hand. Liv recoiled. A.K. sucked in his breath.

When the light once again shone on the man, it also showed the gaping hole in his stomach and the Rorschach of blood that covered his uniform.

Liv covered her mouth.

“If you’re going to be sick, move away,” A.K. said.

She shook her head.

“Do either of you know who this is?” A.K. asked.

Ted had to clear his throat before he could answer. “It’s Henry Gallantine’s gardener. Jacob Rundle.”

“Shouldn’t we call the EMTs?” Liv asked. “Maybe they can—”

A.K. shook his head. “The crime-scene boys. But there’s no hurry. He must have bled out in a matter of seconds.”

Liv swayed back and Ted put a sustaining arm around her shoulders.

The three of them stayed that way, Liv and Ted standing together and A.K. crouched down over the body, while the sky lit up with white stars. Then with a
pop pop pop
, the stars exploded and rained down in a waterfall of red.

Ooh
s and
aah
s wafted up from the crowd below and became silent. And that’s when they heard someone moaning. And close by.

A.K. was on his feet faster than a man his size should be able to move. He took the flashlight from Ted and searched the darkness at the far end of the roof.

“Oh Lord,” said Ted.

In the far corner, pressed against the parapet, was a crouching figure. When the light shone on him, he scuttled even closer to the wall and brandished a rifle at them. Its bayonet glinted in the lantern light. The blood that covered it turned to black.

For a moment none of them moved, then Ted asked uncertainly, “Leo?”

Leo was shaking so violently that he flickered like an old movie. And Liv was having a hard time reconciling the boy with the “gentle soul” with the strapping young man clutching the musket and bayonet.

Ted took a step toward the boy. “It’s okay, Leo. Put the rifle down.”

“Stay back,” A.K. ordered under his breath.

“It’s all right,” Ted told him. “It’s one of the boys from the community center. He’s harmless.”

“He might be harmless, but he’s armed and may be dangerous. We’re not taking any chances.”

Ted ignored him and took a step closer. “Leo, put down the rifle. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Leo shook his head in spasmodic jerks. “He’s gonna get me.”

Liv was amazed at Ted’s calm. She didn’t think she could move if her life depended on it. Which, now that she considered it, might just be the case.

Leo let out a wail, something like an animal cry, as Ted approached.

When he was several feet away, Ted crouched down, vulnerable to any harm Leo might have in mind. But Liv was afraid to call him back and risk startling the obviously traumatized teenager.

A.K. stood still but was poised to move. Liv could feel the energy vibrating off him in waves. It was almost as frightening as facing a possible killer, and in a weird way, exhilarating.

“Where did you get that rifle, son?” Ted’s voice was quiet, soothing.

Leo twitched. “Found it. Over there.” His head jerked toward the dead man. “Heard something. I know he was coming to get me.”

“Who?”

“The ghost.”

“Leo, the ghost can’t hurt you.”

“Yeah, he can. He hurt Mr. Rundle. He’s mad. He said so.”

“The ghost?” Ted had somehow managed to inch closer.

“No-o-o-o. Mr. Rundle. He said the ghost was mad and it was my fault and he was gonna get me.”

“We won’t let him get you. Why don’t you let me hold that for you?” Ted reached out his hand for the rifle, but Leo flinched away and clutched it tighter to his chest.

“Tell me about the ghost.”

Leo shuddered. “You know him. He’s Old Gallantine, who hid the treasure.”

“You saw him up here on the roof tonight?”

Leo bobbled a nod.

“Did you recognize him?”

“He was the ghost.”

“Can you tell me what he—what his face looked like?”

Leo moaned. “Didn’t have no face.”

“You couldn’t see it in the dark?”

“No. Ghosts don’t have faces. Just all shadowy.”

“What did he do when you saw him?”

“Disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

Leo nodded spasmodically. “He hurt Mr. Rundle. Now he’s gonna come after me. Don’t let him get me.”

“We won’t. He’s not going to come after you. We’ll protect you, but you need to give me the rifle.” Ted reached for the musket.

“No-o-o.”

His cry was drowned out by rapid-fire explosions. It must be the finale, Liv thought, because one display followed another, and the blasts continued until the whole night sky was filled with color.

Leo dropped the musket and covered his head with his arms. Ted snatched it from the floor and held it out for A.K., who was lightning swift to take it and move it out of range.

Ted sat down by the cowering boy and put both arms around him. Liv couldn’t hear what he was saying to the boy, but she saw his lips moving, and he rocked Leo back and forth until the last explosion died away and the color fell from the sky.

And then there was silence. A calm descended and seconds passed before the sound of people talking and gathering up their belongings replaced their exclamations of delight. But this time they sounded far away as they moved on to their next stop or returned home, while three people and a frightened boy were separated from the rest of the world by a stone wall and a murdered man.

“There,” Ted said. “It’s all over. The fireworks are finished and the ghost is gone.”

Leo peered out between his arms.

Ted patted his shoulder. “See? No ghost?”

“He won’t come back?” Leo spoke so quietly, Liv could barely hear him, and she found herself moving closer.

A.K. stopped her. “Just stay back until we have him in custody.”

“Custody? Surely you don’t think—”

“Liv—Ms. Montgomery. Just do as I say.”

“Can you tell me how the ghost disappeared?” Ted continued.

Leo looked around. Lifted a finger and pointed to the parapet. “Jumped up right there on the wall, then…” His hands jerked up and his fingers splayed, an action that made Liv jump back and had A.K. reaching for his side.

“Presto. Like that.”

Liv let out her breath.

Ted looked over. “I think you’d better call the sheriff.”

“Already have,” A.K. told him. “I have a squad of my men surrounding the house. Though it’s my guess they won’t find anyone.”

When had he done that? Liv hadn’t seen or heard him make a call.

“You think whoever killed Mr. Rundle already got away?” Liv asked.

“I think we’re looking at him.”