Part 6 (1/2)

”There you are! How long have you been here?”

Gina wore a shapeless, patriotic T-s.h.i.+rt, blue-jeans, and flip- flops. Her thin blonde hair was pulled back in a pony tail, and her bright green eyes smiled at me.

”Just got here. So, what's your big news?”

”Let's walk and talk.” Gina hooked her arm through mine and navigated me around the jostling crowds over to a choice spot on the banks of Molly Stark Lake.

”We're walking, but we're not talking.” I was studying the crowds, trying to catch a glimpse of Dolly, but I wasn't oblivious to the fact that Gina was unusually quiet.

She stopped dead in her tracks and faced me. ”OK, Mira, don't be mad at me, but I'm pregnant.”

My initial thought was ohmyG.o.d, better her than me, but my sporadically effective social filter managed to click down in the nick of time. I grabbed her up in a big hug. ”Mad? Why would I be mad? You're going to be a fantastic mom!”

Gina laughed and pushed me off. ”I know how you feel about Leif, but he's changed. He swore he'll never cheat again, and he's changed. He's excited for the baby.”

My eyes misted over. I didn't know whether or not Leif had or would change, but I knew that Gina was a whole lot braver than I would ever be. I had decided that being single was like being fat; if society let me get away with it, it'd be my preferred method of existence. I'm not talking ”need to remove a wall from your house to heave you out when you die” fat. I'm talking ”eat until you're full and then have a piece of cake with ice cream” fat. A girl could dream.

”I'm sure he is excited. I hope this is everything you want it to be.”

Gina squeezed my hand, sniffing at the air. ”Did someone spill a beer on you? You reek.”

”New shampoo.”

”You know, Mir, they say pregnancy is contagious. Once one friend gets it, they all do.” I could hear the teasing in her voice. ”You're on birth control, right?”

”Ha! That'd be like wearing a parachute while you're driving. Is that Leif over there?”

We wove through the crowd to the blanket Leif had set out for the three of us. I said my greetings and allowed myself to be introduced to the two couples Gina and Leif came with. From what I could tell from an initial glance, both were from the heavy-drinking and TV-watching stock, the women sporting 80s claw hair and the men condescending and dumb. It was only an odd combination if you'd never been west of the Twin Cities. I'd tolerated this type of people when I had to, but when one of the guys, who was coincidentally sporting a Long Hard Johnson Fis.h.i.+ng Poles T-s.h.i.+rt, asked Leif if he'd ever heard the joke about how you can't rely on a woman because you should never trust anything that bleeds for seven days and doesn't die, I decided it was time to look for greener pastures.

I stood, brushed myself off, and said goodbye to Gina. It was going to be hard to find Dolly among the crowd since it had grown dark. There were hundreds of blankets covered with couples and families dotting the sh.o.r.eline. No alcohol was allowed within the park limits, but people were openly swigging beer. I decided it would be the best use of my time to hit the far end of the lakesh.o.r.e and work my way back in an inward pattern, walking along the beach and then backtracking one layer in, until I had worked myself between every group of people. Of course I'd only find Dolly if she had situated herself in this prime firework-viewing location. If she wasn't on Molly Stark, or if Les had knocked her over the head and dragged her into the woods, I was SOL.

I caught s.n.a.t.c.hes of conversation as I walked through the crowds, punctuated by the first, sparkling fireworks lighting up the sky.

”Oooh! That looked like a purple mushroom!”

”When I was a kid, the fireworks blew up in shapes, like flags or George Was.h.i.+ngton's profile.”

”Did you bring the Boone's Farm?”

”You gotta emphasize the Boone's, not the Farm, man, or it just sounds gross.”

”Wow! That lit up the whole night!”

”Think they'll have one shaped like Chief Wenonga?”

I was at the far end of the crowd, trying not to get distracted by the beautiful rainbow reflections of the fireworks s.h.i.+mmering on the lake. It was when I was pulling my gaze away from the water that I caught sight of a couple, thirty feet up the sh.o.r.e on a little stretch of beach almost too narrow to stand on, the water on one side and marshy reeds on the other. I waited for the next explosion to light up the sky before I could see who it was. In a flash of brilliant red, white, and blue, I clearly made out Dolly's signature reddish-blonde hair and the dark silhouette of a tattoo on her right wrist, but the person standing next to her was obscured in shadows.

It was a masculine figure, taller than Dolly, leaning down to talk to her. Whether his hair was light or dark, I couldn't tell. Either way, Dolly was happy to have him close, so I was pretty sure it wasn't Les, who was shorter than Dolly anyway. I casually strolled closer, dropping down on my haunches when Dolly looked my way. When I reached the edge of the reeds, about twenty feet from where the couple was standing and away from the bulk of the fireworks crowd, I could make out bits of conversation floating over the water.

”... for another week or so.”

”You sure that's right?”

”I'm positive.” Dolly's deep chuckle. ”You think I have what it takes?”

”... up to you ...”

I risked a peek around the reeds. Dolly's back was to me, but her companion was looking in my direction. I quickly darted back behind the reeds, but not before Johnny Leeson's eyes locked on mine. He was out with Dolly, and he had seen me spying on them.

”Mira?” he called out, but I was already jogging toward my car.

I was p.i.s.sed. Off. I was mad at Johnny for not being in love with me, even though he was turning out to be a sneak, and I was furious at Dolly for horning in on my territory. The argument could be made that she didn't know I was interested in Johnny, but I wasn't in the mood for generosity. Mostly, though, I was mad at myself for falling for another guy. Love always ended badly for me. I couldn't even fall for a fibergla.s.s statue without it ending poorly, for the love of Betsy.

I was so caught up in my dark mood that I didn't notice Brando stroll out of the woods, and I walked smack into him.

”Oh! Sorry.” This was my first face-to-face encounter with him, and based on the carnivorous once-over he gave me, he seemed to be enjoying it a great deal more than I was.

”Not a problem. Where are you going in such a hurry?” He grinned and winked.

”I'm not a big fan of fireworks.”

”Mmm.” He beckoned over my shoulder. ”See anything interesting back there?”

From where we stood, I could see the outlines of hundreds of people staring up at the sky over by the beach, but there was no foot traffic near us, and the closest blanket of people was a few hundred yards away. Feeling slightly uneasy, I swatted at a mosquito and went from defense to offense.

”Just bright lights in the sky. What about you? What are you doing back here?”

He laughed and held out his hand. ”I don't think we've met. I'm Brando Erikkson. I'm in town for the festivities.”

I shook his hand reluctantly, noting his smoothly manicured nails and strong fingers. ”Mira James.”

A light of recognition flared in his eyes. ”Sure. You've got that column. Kennie mentioned you.”

I'll bet. ”So, you see anything interesting back there?”

”Not much. There's a path down to the lake, but some young lovers were making the most of the night, so I turned back.”

Ouch. ”Well, it was nice meeting you.”

”Some of us are having a party after the show. You should join us.” He laid a light hand on my shoulder. ”Maybe you could do an article on me.”

”Yeah, maybe.” I pushed his hand off my shoulder and stomped off. The party would probably be a good place to gather more information on the missing Chief, but I was in no mood. I located my car without spotting any law enforcement and rolled home.

I fell into a funky sleep right away and awoke to a bright, s.h.i.+ning fifth of July, my head pounding from a broken-heart hangover. I didn't feel like eating breakfast, or cleaning, or watching TV, or gardening, or doing anything else I normally do to pull myself out of a dark mood. That left only mowing the lawn, all one and a half acres.

I don't enjoy the actual act of mowing the lawn, but I love the clean smell of fresh-cut gra.s.s and the soft, trimmed carpet of green afterward. I strolled down to the outbuilding where I stored the mower, listening to fuzzy b.u.mblebees the size of peanut M & Ms buzzing against the petals of my summer flowers. I ga.s.sed up the old Snapper rider, checked the oil, and yanked the whipcord. The engine fired immediately, and I began the b.u.mpy job of tr.i.m.m.i.n.g the gra.s.s. I divided the lawn into segments. First, I mowed the area between the silo, barn, and two sheds. Then, I trimmed the strip running parallel to the mile-long driveway and the tiny beach area down by the lake, and I finally cleared off the wide section circ.u.mscribing the house, ducking low to avoid the branches on the far perimeter.

As I mowed, I let my mind drift. My world had been turned upside down in less than a week. The strangeness had come with this intense, portentous heat, and there was no end in sight. First, Kennie had come back from hush-hush training the middle of last week, which I now knew had been her radical cheerleading camp. Then, at the planning meeting the next day, Dolly and Les interrupt the proceedings with their crazy talk about getting rid of Chief Wenonga. Lo and behold, the next morning the Chief disappeared and someone left behind a b.l.o.o.d.y chunk of head. That very day, an angry Gary Wohnt showed up at the library looking for me, a first.

Throw into that mix a missing Native American impersonator from yesterday's parade, and it all became too weird for words. Dolly and Les were the most likely suspects, but I didn't like the smell of Brando Erikkson on the scene, especially since he was somehow connected to Les. I knew where those two were at the time the Indian mascot disappeared, though, so that put Dolly on the hook as suspect number one. I experienced a cheap thrill at the idea of pinning her as the culprit, but it was too easy. If you're going to steal two Native American representations, why announce your position at a very public meeting? If it were a publicity stunt, she would have claimed it by now-unless she had something else planned, like an Indian-stealing trifecta.