“But nobody’s pointed the way yet.”
Hal looked thoughtful. “Not the kind of gal you see at the grocery. The kind of woman who’d look good in a sleek black dress and I think she had a helluva figure from the look of her legs. She was wearing fancy gray heels.”
I nodded with approval.
Officer Leland was intrigued. “Of course churchwomen will do 238
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anything to help, but she doesn’t sound like someone who spends much time cleaning porches. So I wonder what was so important about the porch.”
I looked at her sharply, realized her eyes were shrewd and intelligent. She’d figured out what mattered.
The chief was looking at her with admiration. “That’s the point.
She cleaned the porch. Maybe she knew there’d been a body there.” He suddenly looked formidable. “I want to know if she was a redhead. Maybe she likes to impersonate the police. Keep your eyes open for a good-looking redhead.”
In the church parking lot, Kathleen stood outside a big plastic contraption with clear plastic panes on all sides. The green top was shaped like a dragon. A machine blew air to keep it inflated. Inside, a half-dozen boys yelled and rolled and jumped on the bouncy plastic bottom.
Kathleen lifted a flap and yelled, “No kicking. Absolutely no kicking or wrestling. Two more minutes and it’s the girls’ turn.” I had to speak loudly for her to hear, but the boys were making so much commotion I didn’t worry about being overheard. “What is this? What’s going on?”
Kathleen lifted a finger to indicate she’d be with me ASAP, then turned her thumb toward the contraption, yelled, “Jupiter Jump, only three tickets. Girls next for the Jupiter Jump.” I suppose she thought that was a sufficient explanation. I wished I had time to go inside and bounce. What fun! However . . . I shrieked into her ear. “The police are coming. We have to find a teal arrow.
They’ll want to see it.”
Suddenly the shouts inside the inflated plastic plaything turned angry. “. . . off my back . . . stop that . . . gonna shove you . . .” Kathleen lifted the flap at the entrance, poked her head inside.
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Boys ranging from six to midteens tumbled through the opening.
The last one was scarcely gone before the girls clambered inside.
I tugged on Kathleen’s jacket sleeve. “A teal arrow. You’ve got to find one. The police will be here any minute and you have to show it to them.”
A sudden screech and a burst of tears sounded inside the jump.
Kathleen held up a hand, once again pulled aside the flap. “Abigail, don’t pull Teentsy’s braids. Let go. Pronto. Abigail, you get in that corner. Teentsy, come bounce by the door.” When a semblance of harmony was restored, she gripped the edge of the opening flap, looked around.
“I’m over here. Come on, Kathleen, we don’t have much time.”
“I’m all alone. Sally Baker didn’t show up. I can’t leave the jump.
I’ll tell them—”
I gripped her arm. “Don’t tell them anything. I’ll take care of it.” I zipped to the rectory. A teal arrow. I closed my eyes. Perhaps I might look in the attic and find some arrows. Our vigorous rector had been quite an archer. A piece of wood and I would be in business.
I opened my eyes. Lying on the kitchen table was a two-by-four-foot weathered wooden plaque. Mounted on it was an arrow. The shaft was a bright teal.
I clapped my hands. “Thank you, Wiggins.” I looked out the window. Three police cars turned into the far end of the church lot. Not a minute too soon, but miracles always seem to happen that way.
I looked critically at the plaque. Wiggins had done a fine job, but I felt it needed a tad more pizzazz. I rummaged in the craft drawer and found a large gold sticker that had an official appearance.
I added it beneath the arrow. I used a red marker and inscribed in looping script:
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Authenticated By Hackworth Antiques, St. Louis, Mo
In the same ornate handwriting, I wrote on a plain sheet of stationery:
Genuine arrow once owned by Daniel Boone
For good measure, I added a seal to the bottom of the sheet. I turned the board over, taped the sheet to the back.
As I started down the back steps of the rectory, I realized, with an unhappy memory of the upright dog leash, that the arrow could not arrive apparently self-propelled. I’d half appeared when I looked down and saw slate-blue trousers. This was no time for Officer Loy to surface. A quick transformation into my purple velour and I hurried toward Kathleen.
“Mrs. Abbott?” I looked at Kathleen inquiringly.
Kathleen looked past me and gasped.
I turned and came face-to-face with Detective Sergeant Price. It was too late to wish for a scarf.
We looked at each other across time and space. I saw strength and honor in his eyes and more.
I don’t know what he saw in mine.
I took a step back and gave him an impersonal smile, a smile that I hoped was cool and distant and yanked up the drawbridge between us. I rushed into speech. “Isn’t this a lovely event? I can’t resist church sales. You never know what you are going to find.” I swerved toward Kathleen. “Hello, Mrs. Abbott. You probably don’t remember me.
Helen Troy. I’ve just transferred my membership from All Souls’ in the city. I’m making friends with some of the church ladies and I was so glad to help out yesterday with a little sweeping at the rectory, but you weren’t home. I found this adorable teal arrow at the collectible sale and they said you could tell me about this donation.
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Is it really”— my voice was hushed—“an authentic Daniel Boone arrow?” I turned the board over, handed it to her.
Sergeant Price came a step nearer, staring at my undeniably flaming-red hair.
Kathleen balanced the board in one hand, then the other, looked at the front, peered at the back. Now it held her fingerprints.
I was pleased with myself. I felt as buoyed as a poker player drawing an inside straight. That moment of pride lasted until I looked across the church parking lot and saw Chief Cobb heading toward us. Purposefully.
Kathleen sounded buoyant. “Teal arrow. Yes, indeed, here’s the teal arrow. We certainly hope it’s genuine, but I don’t know who donated it. Someone left it propped up against the back steps of the rectory Thursday night.”
“I see. Perhaps I’ll not take a chance on it, then. But thank you.” I began to back away.
Detective Sergeant Price moved toward me. “Mrs. Troy, I’d like to speak with you for a moment.”
“Oh, my son Billy’s waiting for me at the fortune-teller booth.
I’m really in quite a hurry.” I swung on my heel and headed for the church. I sped in front of a large family. Redheads.
“Wait. Wait, please.” The detective dodged around a group of Cub Scouts.
I used a group of teenage boys as a screen and ran for the church.
On the church steps, I risked a backward glance.
Detective Sergeant Price stood by Chief Cobb and Officer Leland, pointing, then they started toward me, moving fast.
I yanked open the door, plunged inside. The hallway was crowded.
A half-dozen children giggled and pushed as they hurried toward the parish hall.
The door opened. I saw Officer Leland’s slate-blue sleeve.
I disappeared.
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Chief Cobb gestured up the hallway. “Let’s find her. I’ll check the main hall, you two take a look in classrooms, offices.” He raised his voice. “Coming through.” The authoritative tone parted the mass of children.