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“What are you doing over there?” Calvin asked.
Gertrude didn’t look up from her phone. “I’m trying to get some internet dirt on that dirty rotten scoundrel.”
Calvin chuckled. “Scoundrel? Even if she did kill her father, you might be giving her too much credit.”
Gertrude relayed their recent conversation regarding grief.
“Mrs. Marshmallow said that the pool was Allison’s idea. Sheriff Clarion said that Allison wanted to fill in the hole because a pool was too expensive. Now all of a sudden it was Merle worrying about safety? There are a dozen versions of this story.”
“There are at least a dozen versions to every story. But there’s still always only one truth.”
“I don’t like it when you get pathological, Calvin.”
“You mean philosophical?”
She had no idea. “No. I mean what I say.”
Suspicion glowed in Calvin’s eyes.
“What?”
“When you say Sheriff Clarion’s name, you light up like a Christmas tree.”
“Oh, will you focus? Allison is lying again!”
He sighed. “Why would she lie about a failed swimming pool?”
“That, Watson, is an excellent question.” She stared at the pile of dirt in the distance. “Why would she lie about a pile of dirt in the prairie?”
Calvin groaned. “We really need to find you an actual mystery to solve.”
“We will. We will go figure out why people think that gunslinger hotel is haunted, but first we have to figure this one out.” She turned her eyes from the pile of dirt back to her jitterbug.
“So are you finding anything about her?”
“No,” Gertrude said, frustrated. “It’s like she’s the ghost.”
“Does she have any social media accounts?”
“I’ve only found one, and it’s locked up like Michilimackinac.”
Calvin laughed. “Michili-what?”
“You heard me. I could send her a follow request but then I’d have to make my own account.” She didn’t want to admit that she didn’t know how to do that.
“Did you try looking her name up in combination with something else?”
“Like what?” Gertrude snapped. She didn’t appreciate being told how to do her job. “Allison Reckords liar-face?”
“Is that her last name?”
Gertrude shrugged. “It was Merle’s last name.”
“Well, what if you searched for her name plus the name of this campground? Or her name plus South Dakota?”
It was a good idea. She tried it. Name plus campground gave her nothing but a list of local campgrounds. But name plus state offered a three-year old article. “Listen to this. ‘Allison Reckords was arrested and charged with theft and destruction of property Thursday after allegedly stealing a traffic cone.’”
Calvin hooted with laughter. “Lock her up, quick! She’s dangerous!”
Gertrude narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, it’s something! It shows her loose character.” She turned back to the phone.
“Thursday? As in this week?”
“No. It happened three years ago, but still! It proves she’s a scoundrel!”
“You said destruction of property. Did she destroy the traffic cone?”
Gertrude scanned the article. “She threw it off a bridge.”
Calvin tipped his head back and laughed again.
“It says she was intoxicated. The driver was also arrested for drunk driving.”
Calvin wiped his eyes and took a shaky breath. “Wouldn’t a traffic cone just .... float?” And then he was laughing again.
“I don’t know. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, if it floated, she didn’t destroy it. But maybe there was no law in place at the time for attempted drowning of a traffic cone.” He wiped at his eyes and took a deep breath. “No worries, though. I’m sure there’s one now.”
She didn’t know what was so funny. She was glad he was feeling better, but she was only a little glad.
