Three important ladies sat before Archibald Cadwalder, brother to Flavius and chief of the South Runnymede Police Department.

“Yashew was set up,” Carlotta Van Dusen forcefully said. “You know it, Archibald.”

“Now, now, Carlotta, I may suspect but I don’t know.” His tone was even.

“We’ve come to post bail.” Celeste figured releasing the young man was more important at this moment than the circumstances of his arrest.

“Of course.” Archibald called loudly, “Mark. Bail.”

A young officer came in, touched his forehead briefly to the ladies, opened the big book he was carrying.

“How much, Mark?” Fairy inquired.

“Two hundred dollars.”

“What? That’s outrageous. He’s not a criminal. He’s not dangerous.” Carlotta fumed.

Archibald had to clarify the law as he saw it. “He is accused of carrying contraband. And if convicted, he is a criminal. But you are right, he’s not dangerous.”

“Archie, you know all this is drivel.” Carlotta’s face reddened. “You can’t possibly believe it.”

“Mrs. Van Dusen, Miss Chalfonte, Mrs. Thatcher, I do not have to believe in the law, but I have to enforce it.”

The three sat silent for a moment, then Celeste filled out a blank check she had brought, handing it to Mark.

“Thank you, Miss Chalfonte.” Like most men, he simply wanted to look at her.

“Chief, I know you, too, are doing your duty and we aren’t insensible to that.” Celeste found the right approach at last. “And given the wild unpopularity of the Volstead Act, to say nothing of the impossibility of enforcing it, you are at a disadvantage and must face the emotions this act will stir in Runnymede.”

“She’s right.” Carlotta had calmed down. “You’re a good police chief, Archibald, and we all sleep safer in our beds because of you. I’m afraid I’ve let my emotions get the better of me because Yashew has been such a good worker for us, as is his sister, a scholarship girl. We all are close and, of course, quite concerned about Mrs. Gregorivitch. The family can’t afford to lose what Yashew brings in.”

“Yes, I know that.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps you all can tell me what’s at stake here? All I responded to was a phone call, a woman’s voice I thought I somewhat recognized, telling me that Yashew was carrying a truckload of scotch and if we wanted to catch him we should post men at the square. I did and sure enough, a truckload of barrels.”

“You’ve impounded the truck?” Celeste sounded innocent.

“Of course.”

She continued. “You’ve been good to listen to us. We all know how busy you are.” She paused. “This may have its genesis in a ferocious argument at your brother’s drugstore a few days ago. Flavius can give you the details. From any of us, it would be hearsay and a great deal of vulgarity appears to have been spoken.”

His eyebrows rose. “I will ask him. He must not have thought it would lead to trouble or he would have informed me.”

“Archie, none of us considered this kind of outcome,” Carlotta reassured him, quite calm now.

“Flavius works as hard as you do,” Fairy complimented both brothers. “And we are sorry to trouble you. This comes down to petty revenge. At any rate, let us take Yashew to his mother since you have his truck. May we do so?”

Fairy, sweetness herself, provoked a smile from the chief. “Of course, Mrs. Thatcher. Mark, bring the prisoner out, will you?”

Celeste inquired after the police chief’s garden—he was a good gardener—then slipped in, “We aren’t mentioning any of this to Tangerman. First off, it’s not his jurisdiction. Secondly, he will butt in.”

Indeed, Lionel Tangerman Sr., the aging police chief of North Runnymede, would butt in.

“I appreciate that,” said Archibald. “You know, they will need to elect a new police chief soon, as Lionel is losing his memory.”

“Yes, he is,” Fairy agreed. “But how can this be done without hurting his feelings? You know all the ins and outs of law enforcement protocol. There must be a way.”

Flattered, he made a steeple out of his fingers. “You know we have all been thinking about this. Now I don’t mean to imply that the men on the north force are talking behind the chief’s back but his condition is now so obvious. In a sense, we have to find a way to kick him upstairs.”

“Excellent idea,” Carlotta chimed in.

“Maybe we can think of something in time for Magna Carta Day,” Fairy said almost idly.

Mark arrived with Yashew, who was incredibly grateful to see his liberators.

“Come on. We’ll take you home,” Carlotta said.

“I’m driving,” Fairy bragged.

Packed in the car, Carlotta pressed Yashew. “We know it was a woman who called and ratted on you. Who knew apart from myself, your sister?”

“Lottie Rhodes.”

“I knew it!” Fairy triumphantly blared.

Celeste rested her head on her hand. “That is petty revenge.”

“I called her—well, I called her something,” Yashew almost whispered.

“Wheezie and Juts gave a full report.” Celeste half smiled. “You merely told the truth.”

“Well, the Bible says, ‘Know ye the truth and the truth shall set ye free,’ ” Carlotta added.

“Be that as it may, you may wind up free to starve, free to be beat up, et cetera, et cetera,” Celeste replied.

“Celeste, is there nothing about our faith that has reached you?” Carlotta griped.

“That’s a subject for another day. Yashew, lie low. Carlotta, can you and Herbert find things for him to do to keep making money? As it is, there might be a trial.”

The poor man’s face just fell. “Oh, how can I take the time and I can’t afford it?”

“I may have a way. Sister?”

“Of course, we’ll find work.”

After dropping off Yashew, visiting for a brief spell with his mother, the three climbed back into the car.

“Where to?”

“Home.” Carlotta flopped back in her seat.

“No. Rife Munitions,” Celeste ordered.

“What!” Carlotta and Fairy shouted at once.

“Rife Munitions.”

Once at the imposing factory on the North Runnymede side, the three were swiftly ushered into Julius Caesar’s office, for everyone knew this was a day to remember: two Chalfontes and one Thatcher calling on a Rife.

He stood when the ladies entered, motioned for the door to be closed. “May I offer something to drink, a sandwich perhaps?”

“No. We’ve barged in on you and we thank you for seeing us directly.” Celeste smiled, which produced the usual effect.

“Well, ladies, apart from enjoying your pulchritude, I am curious.”

They told him everything they knew about Yashew’s arrest, his being set up and by whom.

Carlotta, knowing full well that this was the man whom her husband had taken as a secret partner, breathed not a syllable about it. Of course, Celeste figured it out but said nothing to her sister. The Chalfontes were disciplined that way. To do so she would betray both men. J.C. paid careful attention to this.

“A trial would be inconvenient.” He sat on the edge of his desk to be closer to the ladies.

“Indeed,” Carlotta replied. “He hasn’t much in this world and you know Mrs. Gregorivitch needs medical attention.” She held up her hand. “Herbert and I will see to that, if you see to something else.”

Surprised, J.C. became still. “If I can.”

Carlotta had thought this through. “The canning factory. You procure goods from many places, some of it—that which can be preserved—traveling great distances.”

“Yes.”

“Yashew’s truck is impounded. If you can remove the barrels, the evidence of contraband, replace it with, say, barrels of molasses which you have not yet canned, who will know? No one.”

He crossed his arms across his vest. “Mrs. Van Dusen, what an ingenious idea.”

Next to Carlotta, Celeste said, “I can get into the garage. Archie wouldn’t waste a guard on it. He doesn’t have the men, nor would he think it necessary. But I can get in if you and your men can meet me there, remove the scotch, and substitute the molasses. That will be the end of it and I believe after this incident, Archie will not be looking for tip-offs.”

“When?” J.C. asked.

“The sooner the better. Tomorrow night?” Celeste’s voice rose.

“Tomorrow night at midnight. Good citizens will be asleep.” A smile played on his lips.

—

Back in the car, they all talked at once.

Finally, Carlotta said, “I’ll be there.”

“No,” said Celeste. “You have more to risk than I do.”

“I suppose,” Carlotta agreed.

“I can drive the getaway car,” Fairy offered.

“Fairy, seeing your car down at the police station would arouse curiosity. I have to walk.”

“Then I will walk too.” Fairy was adamant.

“Well, you can be a lookout. Carlotta, stay home. Fairy, we need a replacement lock and a bolt cutter.”

“How can you get a replacement lock keyed to the same key as the one at the police station?” Carlotta shrewdly asked.

“I can’t. All we can do is replace the lock and leave the key in it. As nothing will be missing, we might be able to get away with it. As it is, Archie doesn’t really want this to go to trial. It’s bad enough it has to appear in the police record. What saves us, if it does, is that if the barrels are replaced, who can prove the original barrels were alcohol? Fairy, you slip back there, study the lock, and buy a replacement from the hardware store.”

“Bolt cutters,” Fairy simply said. “I have them.”

Carlotta, listening intently, remarked, “What about Lottie?”

“She can’t prove anything,” Fairy replied.

“Don’t you think she’ll try something else? Those Rhodes girls seem intent on revenge,” Carlotta observed.

Celeste smiled. “Revenge is a dish best eaten cold.”