“So, who’s the guy, anyway?” he asked Ava, pointing a thumb outside toward the statue in the courtyard.
“You don’t know?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“You’ve never heard of Shaw Theater? I thought you said that you and your dad used to come here all the time?”
“Ah, he’s that Shaw then. I always thought that the Shaw was some kind of corporate sponsorship or something. You know, like the new Meridian Centre in Garden City.”
She laughed. “Corporate sponsorship! In Old Town? You’re hilarious.”
“Hey, it could happen!”
“For sure. I can see it now,” she continued, putting on her best radio broadcaster impression. “In recent news, City Council announced today that until further notice, Fort George will now be referred to as Coca-Cola’s Fort George. So, what are you waiting for? Come on down and experience the sounds of the Fife and Drum Corps, witness the training maneuvers of the 41st Regiment Infantry unit, taste food prepared over an open fire in the Officer’s Kitchen, and witness musket and artillery demonstrations all while you enjoy an ice-cold Coca-Cola!”
His cheeks flushed.
She smiled. “Aw, how cute. Are you blushing?”
“Quiet,” he told her as he looked back at the bronze statue of the older gentleman outside. It was of George Bernard Shaw. He could put two and two together.
Shaw’s statue clutched a book in one hand, held close to his heart, while his right hand leaned on a cane. It stood directly in the center of a circular fountain out in the courtyard that lay next to the café. From where they were sitting, they could see the statue and the street through a bay of windows. In the warmer months, children would scoop their hands into the fountain as they tried to retrieve coins from the bottom.
“You know,” she said, “he’s the only person to have been awarded both the Nobel Prize for Literature and an Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay.”
He rolled his eyes. “How do you even know that?”
She grinned and held up her hands. “Hey, we’re a tourist town, remember? I’m also a business woman. I need to know these things. Some people expect it. You want to stay in business around here, sometimes you have to do more than just sell them goods or something kitschy. You have to sell them an experience. I like to give them a bit of a history lesson mixed with small town charm. Some people forget that and think this will all go on forever. But forever isn’t really forever anymore, is it? Not in this economy.”
“You think you’ve got it all figured out, huh? You hiding a magic button under the table too?”
She shrugged and leaned back in her chair. “I do all right. I work hard every day to keep my customers and my clients happy. Haven’t had any complaints yet.” She paused, glancing at some of the other tables, before finally turning her attention back to him. “I don’t know much about you, though. So far, you’re still a bit of a mystery to me, Patrick Sullivan. Sully to his friends.”
Patrick kept quiet.
“I think I kind of like it that way, though,” she admitted, her voice taking on a sultry tone. “I don’t mind venturing into the unknown from time to time. It’s important to learn new things, I think. You’ll never get anywhere if you don’t take risks.”
“My Pop had a line… What was it again? ‘If you want something you’ve never had, you must be willing to do something you’ve never done.’”
She smiled. “Oooh, that’s a good one. I like that.”
He nodded to himself, thinking about his Pop, and searched the room for their waiter who had yet to make an appearance at the table. The café was busy considering it was off-seasonhe counted only a few empty tablesbut surely it shouldn’t be taking this long. A couple spoke in French behind them while another group admired their purchases from a nearby jam shop. Their brown paper bag told him that they had bought it from Greaves Jams & Marmalades down the street. It only served as another painful reminder of what he had left back home. Greaves shop being a crucial pit-stop for the two of them. Along with Kurtz Orchards, a similar culinary shop.
He missed him so much already, but he needed to try to keep those thoughts at bay. He mustn’t contact him. That was the deal. Things would be safer that way.
“So, tell me, Sully,” she went on. “What really brings you to Old Town?”
He looked askance at her. Had she been reading his mind?
She pressed her hands to her cheeks and leaned forward. Her moss green eyes gleamed in anticipation at the thought of accidentally stumbling across some kind of truth. “Oh, that’s the wrong question, isn’t it? Maybe I should have asked what you’re running from? I’m right, aren’t I? I’m always right. I’ve got this weird sixth sense about these sorts of things.”
He sighed. “Nah, there’s nothing to tell.”
“You sure about that? Because your eyes are telling me otherwise. The eyes don’t lie, Sully. That’s probably another line from somewhere but heck if I can remember where from…”
“Fine. I’ll give you the short version. I moved here from Garden City.”
“Garden City? Well, that’s not far away at all.”
“Yeah, you’re right. But, my Pop had some surgeries recently so I didn’t want to stray too far away from home. In case he needed me and all that.”
“Oh, that’s not good. Sorry to hear that. What’d you do in the city, if you don’t mind me asking? Photography?”
“Actually, I worked for Garden PD.”
Her eyes widened and she shifted in her seat, settling in for the long haul. “Garden PD? Like, you were a cop?”
“What? Is that so hard to believe?” He smiled. “Anyway, it’s not like I was a real cop or anything. Not like a detective or anything.” He let out a breath, thinking about the last few weeks.
Meeting with countless strangers. Suffering from a barrage of their endless questions. Higher-ups demanding answers and he only seeking closure. And then there was saying goodbye to Pop and his career.
“I was a photographer, but to be more precise, I was working as a crime scene technician.”
She leaned forward, her chin resting on one hand. “Oooh, you mean like, a CSI? I used to love that show. Miami was always my favourite. Nobody messed with Horatio Caine. You ever catch that episode when him and Delko go down to Rio and have a knife fight with that guy? God, that was so amazing.”
He stared at her.
She burst out laughing, drawing the attention of the French couple behind them. “Sorry, I just assumed… well, I don’t know. I guess I just thought that you guys would watch that stuff for some silly reason.”
“It’s all right. Most people do. There’s something you should know, though. Those TV shows? That’s not what it’s like. Heck, I didn’t even carry a gun. In fact, most of us aren’t even sworn officers. We don’t have the authority to arrest anyone or anything like that.”
She pouted her lips. “Well, that’s a shame. Thanks for ruining my dream of becoming a CSI one day.”
“Jeez, I’m sorry. Did you really want to be a CSI?”
“Ha, no. I’m just messing with you. Anyway, go on.”
“Well, all I’m trying to say is that I don’t really watch those shows because I can’t get past the inaccuracies. It pulls me right out of the story, you know? Like, I remember in one show they had a medical examiner getting physical with a suspect. That’s not going to happen. Or how about the fact that they’re always running around in the dark with flashlights! We don’t operate that way. We turn on all the lights in every room, you know? It drives me nuts.”
She laughed and cried, “So you have seen them!”
He bit at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, so—”
“Man, wait until I tell the Bryant’s about this.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”
She tugged an earlobe and inched forward, whispering, “Oh, we have this group of three sisters in town. They run some kind of mystery club. I forget what it’s called now… It’ll come to me. Anyway, these older ladies. They read their books and watch their crime shows nonstop. You know, like on Acorn or whatever it’s called. Some site on the internet. The one with those British shows on it. Anyway, they just eat that stuff up. Criminal Minds, Broadchurch, Murdoch Mysteries, you name it. If it’s got mystery and crime in it, chances are they’ve seen it. Honestly, though, I think they’re becoming a bit paranoid now because of it all.”
“Oh yeah?”
She nodded, a finger trailing to her lip, a memory sweeping over her. “We had a fire a couple of years back, down the street from here, and they tried pinning the whole thing on a competing business owner across the street. It was arson, they said, and they could prove it. Made a big scene out of it too, if I’m remembering right. Yeah, their so-called “suspect” was not a happy camper. The rumor train took over from there, sending his life spiraling into chaos. When everything was said and done, he suddenly found himself with less profit in the business, forcing him to close.”
“That’s awful. What about the arson?”
She chuckled. “Oh, they proved something all right, but it wasn’t arson. It turned out that the owner from across the street was having an affair with the victim’s wife.”
“Oh boy. And the fire?”
“Ruled an electrical fire. Nothing remotely sinister at all.”
“And they do this a lot? Play detective?”
She sat back in her chair, giggles overtaking her, and her voice beginning to rise. “Yeah, and it’s just as well. Old Town isn’t exactly known for its police force or anything as you probably already know. Not like in the city. We’re part of The Falls district so they hardly ever venture here unless they need to.”
That much was true. Old Town and The Falls both fell under 2 District. There were six districts in all for the entire region.
“After a while,” she said, “you get to know some of the police officers, though, as they tend to leap at the opportunity to come our way. Anything to get away from the Casino District, gangs, and drugs. Like Horace MacKay. Know him?”
“I don’t believe so, no.”
“Yeah, Horace is well, Horace. I’m sure he means well, but he’s not exactly the investigative type. Not anymore. He’ll arrest someone if he must, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve always got the impression that he’s just trying to get through his day. Counting down the days to retirement, you know?”
“A detective, then?”
“Horace? Yeah, he works Major Crime.”
“I see.”
She sat back in her chair and brushed a hand through her hair. “Yeah, so that’s Old Town for you. Not much happens around here, like I said.”
He shot her a look. “Just fires.”
She returned the look. “The occasional one.”
“And a trio of crime-solving ladies.”
“A few.” She smirked. “Okay, maybe it’s not as boring as I made it out to be, okay?”
“It sounds like you’ve got quite the eclectic bunch of characters. That must keep things entertaining.”
“It does. I haven’t even told you about Ol’ Reggie, or Atticus and Mick, or even Perry. I guess I could tell you all kinds of things about this place. I’ve lived here my whole life so it’s all I’ve ever really known.”
“Lots of secrets, I bet.”
She smiled. “Maybe.”
“Well, this all sounds real nice. I wish I could say the same about where I’m from, but—”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. Hopefully we can manage to steer clear of any of that. I like our town just the way it is. You can keep your gangsters and killers, thank you very much.”
“Well, you’ve got gangsters here now too, right? I remember hearing about an Italian. Someone named Remy Marco? He must be living it up here if the police aren’t much of a presence?”
Ava’s brow creased and she was quiet for a moment. Too quiet.
Had he said something wrong?
“I… I’m not sure that I know the name,” she finally said. “I haven’t heard anything like that.”
He shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. Heck, maybe I got the name wrong. Anything’s possible.”
Her lips pressed together in a slight grimace, her gaze ping-ponging from table to table, avoiding eye contact with him. “Yeah…”
Okay, that was weird.
He didn’t have to be a detective to know that something wasn’t right with her when he had mentioned Marco by name.
What was it, though?
A shadow suddenly crept over the table and he turned to find the waiter standing next to them. Finally. And impeccable timing too.
“I’m terribly sorry about the wait, folks,” the waiter said. “We had—oh, Ava. How are you? How’s things?”
Ava smiled. “Business is good. A little slow right now, but that’s to be expected. It’s always quiet after Christmas.”
The waiter feigned a smile. “Indeed. Anyway, are you two ready to order?”
Ava looked over at Patrick. “Yes, uh… do you know what you want, Patrick?”
Still looking up, he told him, “Yeah, just the burger and a Coke for me, pal.”
“Certainly,” the waiter said, scribbling a few lines onto his notepad. “And for you, Ava?”
Ava held the menu open in one hand, but as far as Patrick could tell, she wasn’t really reading it. Her eyes were glossy and she bit at her lower lip, her other free hand playing with the utensils on the table.
“Ava?” the waiter asked. “Are you all right?”
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