Grand Prize: Murder!. Vivian Conroy

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СКАЧАТЬ be here with us today. We had hoped his assignment in Copenhagen would have ended just in time to find him among us so we could thank him in person for his resourceful use of the newspaper at his disposal. We can safely say that his interview with Diane, asking for a reopening of the old disappearance case was the first step toward the eventual resolution.

      “After Michael Danning’s revealing interview in the Gazette, several other citizens took an interest in the case and with joint efforts managed to bring it to a successful conclusion. Looking at the acts of violence they encountered on the way, in which personal property and even a life of one of our own was lost, we can only recommend them for their courage and their tenacity.”

      Vicky took a deep breath. If anybody had asked her in advance if she’d ever confront a killer, she would have thought she would not dare. But when it happened, you had to act and help others. That was not even courage. It was just what you had to do. You couldn’t turn a blind eye when somebody was in mortal danger.

      The mayor said, “We are here today to honor those courageous citizens in the presence of Diane Dobbs and her family.”

      Diane smiled uncomfortably, moving a little closer to her husband, who took her hand in his. Behind them were their three teen children, the boys forcing a cool appearance, the daughter looking so much like her mother: a little unsure at the attention on them, but sensitive to the importance of this moment, not just for them as a family of the murdered Celine, but also for the community in whose midst the murder had happened and the killer had lived, undetected, for over two decades.

      “Michael Danning is with us in spirit,” the mayor said. “So next I call your attention to those who are here today. Well-known to all of you, a tireless volunteer and fundraiser, also involved with the lovely Country Gift Shop: Marge Fisher.”

      Marge, her voluminous red curls bouncing on her shoulders, made an apologetic gesture with her hands as if she disliked being the center of attention like this. Vicky bet she would rather have stayed at the library labeling new books. Marge got shy when thank-yous were handed out and always downplayed her own part in them, believing others had done much more.

      The mayor boomed, “One of our senior citizens, who volunteered her knowledge and contacts to help crack the case: Ms. Tennings.”

      The retired nanny who had spent thirty years with titled families in the UK before returning to settle on the coast of her beloved Maine stood among her closest friends and bridge partners, nodding in Vicky’s direction as if she wanted to say: you should be thanking her, not me.

      The mayor turned to Vicky with a flourish. “And last but not least, Vicky Simmons, born and raised here, who after many years abroad came back to our beautiful little town to open up her own store and bring us a new concept. No coastal theme, no seashells and gulls, nothing with boats or water, but rather British decoration, royalty memorabilia and books.”

      Vicky spotted a glimpse of irritation in Mrs. Jones’ features. She bet the woman was thinking that there was nothing wrong with a coastal theme, boats and gulls. And there wasn’t really. Tourists fully expected things like that in a seaside town and flocked in to buy those souvenirs and take those boat trips. But Vicky was an expert on all things British and believed it would be worthwhile to bring her own store concept along to her old hometown.

      The mayor said, “Vicky transformed the former beauty parlor, which was quite modern…”

      Marge mouthed, purple beams, and Vicky suppressed laughter.

      “…into a classic atmospheric store where fans of everything British can find whatever their heart desires. While doing renovations and organizing her grand opening, she also worked tirelessly, with the others just mentioned, to solve the old disappearance case. In the end, as she got close to the culprit, she even risked her life to save Diane and make sure the killer could not flee. Thanks to the timely arrival of our new sheriff, Cash Rowland…”

      Cash, who stood on the other side of the mayor, pulled his sheriff’s hat off his wild curls and bowed slightly.

      “…the situation could be resolved without further bloodshed. For that we also thank him.”

      Cash bowed again. The sun reflected off his badge, and Vicky smiled to herself that he had really earned it the day he had arrested Celine’s killer. Before that, people had been somewhat reluctant to trust a former town bad boy as their new head of local law enforcement. But now Cash had earned his position. It gave him a new élan as he patrolled the streets looking for wrongly parked vehicles and trash littered around instead of duly put in the bins.

      The mayor’s voice rose to a crescendo as he came to the highlight of the speech. “We are grateful to all involved and we honor all of them today. But as a community we feel we owe a special debt of gratitude to the woman who confronted the killer and prevented another murder. We want to show our appreciation for her courage with a special gift to her store. Handcrafted by the Dawson brothers from across the street…” the mayor gestured broadly at the hardware store opposite the Country Gift Shop “…this is a timeless gift that will keep reminding Vicky and us of her contribution to our community and the safety of our town.”

      He took a step toward the sheet-wrapped object. “I was supposed to reveal it, but Vicky’s mother Mrs. Claire Simmons, had a much better idea.”

      Vicky hitched a brow as her mother stepped forward with her beloved lapdogs, Mr. Pug and Coco, on the leash beside her. Mr. Pug was wearing a little black bow tie, and Coco had a pink lace bow attached to her collar. She twisted her fluffy white head around to see all the people and yapped.

      The mayor said, “Mrs. Simmons will assist Mr. Pug and Coco to reveal the community gift.”

      Claire led the dogs to the sheet-wrapped object and then bent down to gather them up in her arms. Vicky winced as she knew her mother had joint trouble and such antics hurt her back. But Claire was stubborn enough to demand to do everything by herself, and Vicky wasn’t about to disturb this grand moment for her.

      Claire straightened up with a dog tucked under each arm and positioned herself in front of the wrapped object. She leaned forward to grab the sheet with her hands—making it look as if the dogs were grabbing it—and slowly pulled it away.

      Coco barked triumphantly as the sheet fluttered to the pavement.

      There on the easel was a dark green sign with golden lettering reading COUNTRY GIFT SHOP. Two metal chains were attached so it could be hung in front of the store, suspended to swing freely in the breeze. People walking up and down the street could easily see it and come to her door.

      Vicky smiled in delight as the crowd applauded and cheered for her.

      One of the Dawson brothers came forward with a stepladder and put it in place so he could climb up and attach the sign’s metal chains to two hooks that were already on an old brass arm attached to the building’s front. Earlier there had been a sign there no doubt, but the beauty parlor owner had taken it down. Now there was this new community-gifted sign rocking on the ocean breeze, glittering in the sunlight, like a public seal of approval on Vicky’s enterprise.

      The clapping intensified, and Claire with the dogs in her arms came to stand beside Vicky to accept the applause as if it was meant for her. And in part it probably was, as Claire was a familiar face around town, involving herself with many activities such as the annual garden competition and the Harvest Fair.

      Not to mention her active part in most gossip that was spread around town by way of her network of ‘informers’, or—as Claire preferred СКАЧАТЬ