Chapter 34
This was more like it. I’d headed up North Beanblossom Road, the sun warming my back. Fresh, cool air cycled through my lungs as my legs pumped along the country road. I cut west over to Morgantown, one of the many sleepy little towns in the area, and rolled through at a slow pace. In the center of town, the senior citizens sat outside on a porch next door to Frenchy’s Pub, which sat next to the Olde Vault Building Gift Shop, with a tiny single-story building squeezed in between, all three built of bumpy limestone bricks quarried in the early 1800s. Across the street was Kathy’s Cafe, the hanging sign featuring a vintage Pepsi display bigger than the store’s name below it. The menu proudly announced Fresh Homemade Pies Made Daily, and the window showed a National Register of Historic Places certificate.
Turning south on Route 135, I cycled past woods, cornfields, and a yellow poster inviting me to a fish fry, Saturday 11/7, sponsored by the Fruitdale Volunteer Fire Department. Plenty of cars full of leaf-peeping tourists passed me, but these were polite Hoosiers who gave my bike and me a wide berth. I passed the Mennonite church again, wondering if they were expecting a stranger in hot pink cycling togs, and then spied the Bill Monroe Music Park. I’d never gotten to one of the big bluegrass festivals the famous man-dolinist had organized, and which were still continued every year in his memory, but I wanted to one of these days. I’d been flat-out busy with renovations in June when the festival happened. If I advertised in the program next year, though, with any luck a bunch of the business might head to my restaurant. If I still owned a restaurant.
I glanced over at the big outdoor stage nestled next to a wooded hill and pushed on. The harder I rode, the less I thought about my troubles and could just be present in this beautiful fall day. Semi present, that is. Thinking of troubles reminded me of Roberto. Maybe Graciela had sent an update on Roberto’s surgery after I’d set out on my ride. Please, please let him be all right. I would check the second I got home.
I coasted slowly down into Nashville and locked my bike outside the visitor center. After I used the facilities, I headed for Miller’s Ice Cream House. A big creamy Double Dutch Brownie Nut cone was just the ticket after all those miles. I licked it and meandered through the streets. Since it was October, most of the shops featured fall decor and Halloween decorations. I paused in front of one store, with a grinning iconic witch stirring a cauldron in the window and another perched on a broom, waving. I stared, my eyes wide. A clump of ice cream slid onto my hand and I licked it off without tasting it.
Scampering on the shelf around the bottom of the cauldron were plastic rats. The same rats I’d seen in Inspector’s Lake’s pictures. I headed through the open door.
“No food inside, please.” A robust woman pointed to a sign above the door: NO FOOD OR DRINK ALLOWED, written in a curvy vintage-looking font.
“Sorry.” I backed out and wolfed down the small remaining bit of ice cream, munching the cone as fast as I could. I strode back in. “Can I see those rats in the window?”
The proprietor, in a brightly colored apron with happy dancing leaves all over it, pointed to a basket near the register. “You got your rats right there.”
I picked one up. The same red eyes. The tail curving the same way. “I’ll take one.” I reached around to the back of my shirt and grabbed my cycling wallet from the zippered pocket.
“Only one? Whole mess of cute snakes in that other basket.” She pointed.
“I’ll take just the one rat for now.” After I paid her and took the small handled bag, I asked, “Have you sold many of these this fall?”
“A local man came in and buyed up a couple dozen the other day. They’re right popular this time of year.”
How could I ask her without asking her? I thought furiously. “I’m supposed to bring decorations to a party, but I don’t want to copy anybody else. Who was it who bought the rats?”
“Oh, it was Eddie. Ed Kowalski. You know, who runs that nice country store restaurant down the road?”