SANDI MIGHT HAVE A POINT. Maybe I was too quick to disregard Nelson as the murderer.
I decided to follow Nelson and his cousin on the Fourth. I looked at the clock. It was just past midnight Friday morning. That meant it was already Independence Day.
But follow them where, to see if they met people in the hardware store lot or somewhere else? I already knew what they sold. If I made a list of their buyers, all I'd be doing was getting other people in trouble for buying illegal fireworks.
Mister Tibbs snored from the foot of my bed. I'd never let her sleep on the bed, only on the blanket beside it. Even now, I had a towel by my feet and wouldn't let her sleep by my head. Not that she hadn't tried.
I've never been that attached to a pet. Probably because we farm kids had our 4-H cows or goats and knew where they'd end up. And barn cats. They were a nuisance.
But Mister Tibbs felt like my child. That's silly.
Okay, it was silly, but it was true. I didn't want to lose her. Maybe I should do as Ambrose said and mind my own business.
But that would mean County Attorney Smith would keep after Ambrose, at least for a while. To be sure my brother had the best defense, I'd sign a note saying an attorney could have the farm. Assuming we would get clear title again.
So, I'd have Mister Tibbs, but I'd lose the farm. I wanted both.
Fourth of July or not, I'd have to find a way.
THE SOFTBALL FIELD ALMOST sparkled in the Fourth of July sun. The white bases and home plate must have been washed, and the bleachers on each side of the batter's cage had been repainted. Red, white, and blue, of course.
Fifty yards or so beyond the ball field, the Des Moines River looked more blueish-green than brown. We needed a good rain to stir up the mud.
Mister Tibbs was on her leash, but she wouldn't wander even if I unhooked her. She's rarely in places with so many people and didn't seem to want to mingle.
Sandi and I were not meeting until the fireworks tonight. By that time, the softball game would be over, and Mister Tibbs would be by herself in the apartment. Part of me felt guilty about that, but she'd hate the noise near the river after dark.
We were en route to the bleachers when a woman called my name. Kate and Bill Henning were in my graduating class. I thought they lived in Cedar Rapids now.
I walked toward them. "Wow, Kate. You guys are pregnant."
"She is," Bill said.
I kissed Kate on the cheek and pulled back. "You always were a smart ass, Bill."
"Actually, we go by William and Kate now."
Kate rolled her eyes. "And if it's a boy, he wants to name him George."
"And a girl?" I teased.
Bill grinned. "Charlotte, of course. Only the best for our kid."
We were silent for a couple seconds.
Then Kate said, "I'm sorry about Ambrose."
Bill sobered. "I don't believe it."
"Thanks. Where are you guys now?"
They took my cue and stayed away from the topic. Instead, they talked about buying a house in "the cutest town ever," which is what they deemed Mount Vernon, Iowa.
Bill had an engineering degree from Iowa State, and Kate had graduated from Iowa in economics. They both worked in Iowa City, not far from Mount Vernon.
"So," I asked, "do you have one of those blankets with a Cyclone on one side and a Hawkeye on the other?"
"Got two for wedding presents," Kate said.
"All the baby clothes will be Cyclone," Bill said.
Kate threw a handful of popcorn at him.
They walked away to meet Kate's parents by the Snack Shack, and Mister Tibbs and I wandered to the river. There was little wind, and the water ran quietly. We stood in the shade near the edge of the bank.
On another day, I would have let Mister Tibbs off her leash, but today the park behind us was too crowded. Instead, she pulled me toward every tree.
A couple of high school-age boys were trying to launch a kayak from the boat ramp. I thought one looked like the big brother to Rachel, who had petted the black cat in front of Patel's store.
Both boys fell in the water twice. From the giggles a few yards from the boat ramp, it was clear they were entertaining the group of girls on a nearby picnic table.
All of them pretended to ignore each other when one of the volunteer sheriff deputies walked over. I couldn't hear the conversation, but it was obviously a gentle warning not to horse around with a boat, even in shallow water.
One boy quickly launched the first kayak, and the second pulled one into the water and followed the first. Within half a minute, they were racing each other to the opposite shore.
"Come on, Mister Tibbs. Let's find a bench."
She wagged her short tail and led the way to one close to the small hotel, which faced the river. Several older people sat on wide, white rockers on the hotel porch. I returned a wave, though I didn't know who the man was. Probably a friend of my parents.
To avoid conversation, Mister Tibbs and I walked down river and picked a bench near the fire station. She was too short to jump onto the bench, so I lifted her to sit next to me.
For several minutes, her little head moved slowly from side to side, watching the water flow. When she gave a quick start, I followed her gaze. A tree branch was floating by.
Mister Tibbs looked at me.
"Nope. If you even tried to swim out there, you'd end up in the Mississippi." With a stab of pain, I thought of an old friend who had done just that.
I stood. "Come on. Let's see when the ball game starts."
We stayed by the river as we walked. I looked forward to cheering at the game, but not to having a lot of one-on-one conversations. Everyone would ask about Ambrose.
The day was getting close to the promised eighty-five degrees, so Mister Tibbs and I walked toward the Snack Shack. I bought a Dr. Pepper for me and a bottle of water for Mister Tibbs.
Shirley gave me a free cup. "I'm supposed to charge, Shug, but I hear your Mister Tibbs saved your bacon yesterday."
I nodded. "I'll come by tomorrow and tell you all about it."
By the time I got to the diner, the South County News would have published a story, so I wouldn't have to talk a lot.
As I began to walk to the bleachers, a familiar voice said, "Mel?"
I turned halfway, but didn’t stop. "Ryan."
He reached me, and we walked side by side. "Look, I had to write it that way."
"Don't talk to me about it, Ryan. Journalists make choices."
His face reddened. "Want to talk about yesterday?"
"Nope."
I walked faster, and he didn't keep pace.
Mister Tibbs and I reached the edge of the bleachers, and she began to raise a leg. "Oops. Over here, girl."
We moved to a nearby tree. She pottied, fortunately not anything I'd have to pick up, and I poured some water into the paper cup. She lapped eagerly and raised a dripping face.
"You look so funny. Come on."
The bleachers were filling. Apparently the ones closest to the river were for fans of the military veterans.
Mister Tibbs and I strolled to the Chamber of Commerce side. We would root for both sides, but the Chamber and Rotary members were the people I'd bugged more for South County News stories, so I knew them better.
Members of the Chamber team were warming up, and a few more members walked by us. Mister Tibbs surprised me by giving a low growl.
Bruce Blackstone smiled and said, "Now Melanie, keep your wild dog under control."
"She smells my cat," Jagdish Patel said.
"You still have her?" I called.
"Can't get rid of her." He was a few feet past us and turned his head. "Want her? Or him."
Shirley's delighted laugh came from behind me. "Mel already has an androgynous dog."
She had changed from her Snack Shack apron to a ball player's striped shirt. Probably she'd already had on the sneakers, high cotton socks, and shorts, but I hadn't seen them when she was behind the counter. They looked incongruous with her teased hair.
As she reached me, I hissed, "I'm rooting for the Marines."
She laughed again. "Shug, everybody roots for the Marines."
The game could have been over in less than an hour, but it dragged on for nearly two. Brad Thomas hit a home run every time he was at bat for the veterans, often with people on base. Apparently, having him bat fourth was a strategic decision.
The Chamber team had a couple of strong players, but they also had people like Mr. Patel, who could be counted on to strike out or hit a pop fly every time at bat.
Shirley hit a line drive to the outfield, bases loaded, and three runs came in for the Chamber team. I think the military team member missed getting to the ball on purpose, so the score wouldn't be so lopsided.
During the seventh inning stretch, Mister Tibbs and I walked closer to the river. She had been lying under my legs, but I knew the noise was getting to her.
From my spot by the water, I noticed Nelson talking to a woman who held Rachel's hand. The woman, probably her mom, seemed to pass him something, but Nelson didn't have anything to give her.
I frowned. Should I do something? And what would that be? Tattle on a River's Edge resident and then testify in court if they were arrested for using illegal fireworks? I thought not.
Plus, even though I didn't plan to use them, I'd have to snitch on myself.
Harlan was not around, but over the next few minutes, despite raucous cheers from both sets of bleachers, Nelson moved through the crowd that stood along the sidelines. Because I knew what he sold, I was sure the nods were from people who agreed to buy or were told where to pick up their fireworks.
Maybe he did have a huge quantity to sell.
I was certain he was not the person who'd forced me into my closet. His voice wasn't all that distinctive, but I would have recognized even an effort to disguise it.
It hit me that I hadn't heard Harlan talk a lot. Could he have been my jailer?
When the game ended, fifteen to five in favor of the veterans, I didn't go back to the bleachers. Instead, Mister Tibbs and I walked along the river until we reached a place where it was easy to stroll up to Main Street.
"I don't know about you girl, but I wouldn't mind a nap before the fireworks.
She was so tired she didn't even yip.