of town to good use in the near future. But jobs are only one of the things on my platform. We need to widen many of our country roads, making them safer during the winter. Just imagine what might have happened if that sharp curve that nearly sent Pike into a ditch had been on a school bus route.”
That got them going. All four women launched into a tirade about the roads, snow, Harrisburg, and how cinders for the roads weren’t being paid for out of the county commissioner’s pockets so why were they so damn scotch with them. They stamped off with toddlers in hand and heads full of steam intent on calling Mike Mitchell, our state representative.
Gideon gave me a rousing round of painfully slow claps. “Well done. That was one of the slickest cases of political misdirection I’ve ever seen.” His smile was wicked yet sultry. I blinked innocently. He picked up his phone and ended the recording session, pushing to his feet after sliding his leg free of the picnic table. “Thanks for the invigorating chat. Guess I had better amble back over to the paper and finish my editorial. Hope you’ll buy a copy on Wednesday. I plan to mention your name.”
“Make sure to spell it right. It’s Griffiths with two Fs.”
He tapped his brow with his Android and indeed did amble off, hands in his front pockets, whistling to the blackbirds perched in the trees. My sight lingered on the familiar way his one shoulder rode just a bit higher than the other, giving him a cocky swagger. He’d had that same braggartly strut back in school. Obviously, he had been born arrogant.
My eyes darted down to his ass, hoping it was saggy and wide as my desk back in city hall. It wasn’t. Damn the man. I wadded up my trash and gathered my stuff then stopped at one of the several trash cans on the green and made sure to put my trash into one slot and my aluminum can into another. The book in my hand nearly went in with my limp celery and used brown paper bag, but since it was a library book, I shoved it under my arm. I had some phone calls to make as soon as I got back to my office. One to Linda Calhoun to ferret out why she’d retired from the paper so suddenly. One to Aubrey to find out if he’d made any headway with the Twin Tiers Arts Council on our behalf. And one to Hell to see if one of their head tormentors had escaped.
Chapter Three
That evening I decided to take the long way home just like Supertramp had sung about. All my phone calls had been fruitless. Aubrey had only bad news from the Twin Tiers Arts Council and I’d not been able to track down Linda Calhoun. Hell also didn’t return my calls. So, after an afternoon of aggravation I opted to travel home via the back way. Which was cutting behind the courthouse and picking up Valencia Lane. That would take me right past the Calhoun home. I was hoping to find either Linda or her husband Lyle home. Then I’d just follow Valencia up to Alberton, make the left, and I’d be on my street.
Valencia was in full autumn glory. Red and orange leaves danced on the wind, whirling and skittering downward, to cover yards and sidewalks. The night was going to be a cool one. I was glad I’d had a sweater to pull on. As soon as the sun sank behind the mountains the temperature tumbled. I zipped up my dark blue Fred Rogers cardigan, pulling up the collar as I made my way past the older homes that made up our town. Most had been built in the seventies or eighties, some before, some after, but the bulk were in that minimal traditional style with one story, rectangular floor plans, and gabled roofs. My house was like that, as was my parents. A few of the fancier homes, like the one that belonged to old Dr. Felix’s family, had a bit of that suburban split-level going for it, but most homes here were much less grand. And much less expensive. I paid sixty-two thousand for my house with a half-acre of land. That was a fair price for a fair home. It needed some work, but I’d fixed it up nicely. It fit me. Just like my zip-up cardigan. It was homey, warm,