As they settled down to eat, Casey said to his mother, "I hate the drapes in my room. They must have been some girl's. I'd like to choose my own."
"I wondered," his mother said, "how long you'd put up with them. We'll be going into Fraserville on Saturday. Why don't you come and choose your pattern at Vance's Draperies? I'll put the ones you have now in the new guest room — when Dad finally finishes it."
Casey's grandmother was coming for a visit as soon as the guest room was done, and Casey figured that might have something to do with how long his father was taking on the job.
"Why not get them at Thrift Mart right here in Richford?" his dad asked. "Vance's will be expensive."
"Not necessarily," Mrs. Templeton said. "Casey has a corner window that'll be tricky finding ready-made drapes to fit, and Vance's is having a huge sale. We'll come off just fine. And speaking of the guest room, Colin, I got a note from Mother today. She's planning her Christmas itinerary and wants to visit us for New Year's."
"Oh …" Casey's father didn't look happy.
"Why not get Casey to give you a hand with the guest room?" his mother suggested. "You'd like to help your dad, wouldn't you, Casey?"
"Well … sure," Casey said slowly. "What would I be doing?"
"Mainly be a gofer and keep me company once in a while," his dad said. "I'd be grateful. I hate working down there alone."
This was a side of his father Casey had never seen. "Well, sure, Dad. I'll keep you company when I can. I'll be free tonight after supper. I don't have any homework that has to be done by tomorrow."
His father beamed, genuinely happy. "That'll be great. We can survey the situation."
Casey caught his mother smiling to herself. Then his mind returned to the puzzle of who had bought the new drapes for the Willson Place. In just two days he would have his answer. He could see the write-up in all the newspapers:
Knightly Charles Templeton, known to all as Casey, gave the Royal Canadian Mounted Police vital information they needed to track down the attackers of Mr. Semple Deverell, science teacher at the Clarence Wilberforce Willson High School in Richford, Alberta, at the headquarters of the hate ring just outside the town. Casey's contribution was the name of the person who had recently purchased drapes for the lower front windows of the Old Willson Place where the sophisticated apparatus and headquarters of the hate organization were discovered.
"Your mother has asked you three times now, Casey, if you'd like more lasagna," his father was saying. "Come down to Earth and answer."
"Sorry, Mom," Casey said. "Yes, I'd like a lot more lasagna, please."
An hour later Casey and his dad were on the lower level, studying the roughed-in guest room and adjoining bath. The Templeton house was a classic forty-year-old split level — it actually had five levels, including a small one over the back patio, which had beds for Jake and Billy when they came for holidays. The room he and his dad were now examining had the makings of a perfect guest room with its own entrance from the patio. Casey looked around. One day he planned to have this room, so it wasn't a bad idea to have some input into how it was completed.
"One thing I'm going to do," his father told him, "is soundproof this room."
"Sounds good, but with Grandma down here we should have a way of hearing her if she needs help."
"We can rig up something, but we've got to keep the noise of her television, radio, and stereo down for the rest of us."
Casey nodded. "Yeah, I remember the last time she stayed with us she had one of the regular bedrooms and we could hear everything. And she played those CDs of hers so loud!"
"Exactly. It was one of the few times I was home in a year, and I couldn't get a decent night's sleep."
"You like Grandma, though, don't you?"
"I love her. She's got the same strong character your mother has, but she likes her gadgets, brings what she wants, like her laptop, and wants things her way. This room will be perfect … if we ever get it done."
They were each sitting on a sawhorse, and Casey watched as his father gazed at the room. "Dad, are you glad to be retired?" It had never occurred to him before that his father might not be happy. Heavy silence filled the unfinished room. It went on so long that Casey wondered if his dad had heard his question.
"I guess I am, Casey. I've been telling myself for years it's what I wanted to do. But my life's been action-oriented for so long that it's hard to slow down so completely. You know your mom and I always planned to come back to Richford, but honestly, Casey …"
"Is it this hate business that's put you off?"
"Well, partly. I'm disappointed with what's going on in town but, on the other hand, I'm grateful to be involved in the investigation." His father thought for a moment, then added, "But when that's over, then what? I mean, I've got this room to do, and now that you're going to give me a hand, I think I'll feel more like getting it done, but again, then what? I've got to find something else to do."
"Does Mom know how you feel?"
"Sure. She says we don't have to stay here if I can't find something worthwhile to do, not just something that's busywork. You see, Casey, all those years on the force I never took time for any hobbies. I've thought some about writing my memoirs, but I know I never will. I honestly don't know …" Again silence filled the room.
A change of subject was called for. "Hey, Dad, what if we put in a whirlpool tub? Grandma would love that."
"She sure would. We all would. I was thinking of just a shower, but there's no reason why the bathroom can't be bigger. We'll just move the studs over a half metre or so."
"And, Dad, why couldn't we use the other half of this level for an exercise room? Heck, we could even put one of those pools in the basement. You know, the kind where you swim against some jets."
Chief Inspector Templeton chuckled. "No pool unless we win a lottery, Casey, but I can see the gym. Let's go up and tell your mother our new plans." He put his arm around Casey's shoulders as they climbed the wide steps to the main level.
"I'll come by in about an hour, Casey," his mother said as she parked outside Vance's Draperies that Saturday. "If you decide on a pattern before that and go somewhere else, just be sure you're back here by then."
"Sure, Mom."
Casey had never imagined there could be so many kinds and patterns of drapery fabrics. When a clerk asked him if there were something special he was looking for, he said, "The pattern I want has small light blue and red circles on a very dark blue background."
"Offhand I can't picture the pattern you described," said the clerk, a slim young woman with long brown hair in a ponytail, big brown eyes, and a wide smile. Casey figured she was about eighteen or so. "Can you tell me what sort of fabric you want?"
"Pretty heavy," Casey said, recalling the beating the drapes at the Old Willson Place had taken.
"That doesn't tell me much. Sit at this table and I'll bring you some sample books to go through." In a matter of minutes the pile of sample books the clerk brought to Casey's table got very high and wide. "Just come and get me if you want more books, or if you find what you're looking for." She went off to serve another customer.
Casey hung his coat on the back of a chair, put his baseball hat on the table beside him, and started flipping over sample after sample. There were lots of patterns he could imagine in his own room, and to make his search appear legitimate he marked several with yellow Post-its the clerk had given him, but he found nothing like the pattern he was hunting for.
When the clerk brought a new batch of books, she stopped and stared at him. "You're what's-his-name from Richford, the boy who saved the teacher's life. I know you from the picture in the Fraserville Herald. I didn't recognize you with your hat on, but you're so blond you're hard to miss."
Casey didn't know whether to be pleased or not. Once people saw how blond he was they usually remembered him. "Yes, I'm Casey Templeton."
"Casey! That's it! Nice to meet you, Casey. I'm Sarah Vance. My dad owns this place. Do you know anything new about the case? I've been following every news story for a paper I'm writing for my sociology class."
"Well, the Mounties don't share their secrets with me but —" Casey stopped. It dawned on him that Sarah could really help. Being related to the owner of the drapery store meant she could get access to the files and find out who had bought the fabric, or if indeed it had come from Vance's. "Would helping to solve the case be a plus for your paper?"
"Are you kidding? I'd get a top mark for sure. Help how?"
Casey hadn't quite finished telling Sarah when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Still at it, Casey?" his mother asked as Sarah moved away. "Show me what you found that you like." She sat down, and Casey passed her the books he had tagged. "That one's out. Even on sale it would cost too much. All the ones in this book are too expensive." She searched through several other sample books, then called Sarah over. Casey introduced the clerk to his mother. "Your sale ad mentioned discontinued lines, Sarah. Could you show us what you have?"
There was something about the easy way Sarah smiled at people as she carried the big books between counters stacked high with coloured and patterned fabric that made Casey feel he had known her before. In their brief talk he had discovered she was bright, caring, and comfortable to be with. She was like … she was like Hank's Cindy! Not in looks. Sarah wasn't tall like Cindy, and Sarah's brown hair was slicked back not flyaway gold, but they both had that wonderful way of making a person feel good. Casey made up his mind. Before this hate business was wound up he was going to see that Hank met Sarah.
"These are patterns the manufacturers have only limited supplies of," Sarah said as she handed Casey's mother a thick folder. "And, of course, we have a shelf of remnants — some with really good sizes and prices."
"You have a look at the remnants, Casey," his mother said. "I'll go through this folder."
Five minutes into the exploration of remnants Casey spotted a thin roll of the heavy navy blue fabric with small red and light blue circles and beckoned to Sarah. "This is it! Is there any way you can get the names of the people who ordered it since it's been in your dad's store?"
Sarah nodded. "I'm pretty sure I can, but it'll take a while. I'm just helping out during university reading week. Dad scheduled the sale for when I'd be home. I go back Monday and won't have time to do any checking before that. But I do plan to be here next weekend, so I'll do it then. For now I'll put it out of sight." She picked up the slim roll of fabric. "I'll give you my cell phone number. Call me a week from tomorrow." She wrote the number on a yellow Post-it and handed it to Casey.
"Any luck, Casey?" Mrs. Templeton asked, giving Sarah back the folder. "I didn't find anything."
"Let's just forget it, Mom." Casey had found out what he wanted to know and was now eager to get out of the store.
"Tell me," his mother asked Sarah thoughtfully, "does Vance's dye drapes?"
"Some fabrics dye beautifully, others, not," Sarah said. "It costs quite a bit because the lining and the draperies have to be dyed separately, but of course it's a lot cheaper than almost any new ones would be."
"I may bring some into you in a week or so," Mrs. Templeton told Sarah. As they left the store, she said to Casey, "If you don't mind having drapes that are dyed, we could buy the TV you've been wanting for your bedroom with what we'd save."
"Terrific," Casey said.
He smiled to himself. Now wouldn't that be a nice bonus? Solve the Deverell mystery, have Hank and Sarah meet, be a hero, and get a television, too. He was sure that with Sarah's help he would find out who had ordered the drapes for the big front window at the Old Willson Place. And once he knew that he could … well, Casey wasn't too sure what he could do. He would figure that out when the time came.