Free Calamity Jayne and the Sisterhood of the Traveling Lawn Gnome by Kathleen Bacus Page B

to act accordingly."
    "That's a cop-out, Stan. In more ways than one," I pointed out. "And weren't you the one who told me, we don't get to decide what's news and what isn't. We report and then let folks decide if we've done right by them. Isn't that what you said, Stan? Isn't that the newsman's mantra?"
    Stan put his coffee cup down with a thud.
    "Geez, Turner. I didn't know you were listening," Stan said, a surprised look on his face.
    "Well, I was not only listening, Stan, I was taking notes. And I don't recall ever writing down that the Gazette permits law enforcement to censor our stories?"
    "Law enforcement agencies ask the media to withhold certain details of an ongoing investigation all the time, Turner," Stan pointed out.
    "Yes. If they're tracking a killer or a terrorist or there's something more nefarious afoot," I said. I stopped. "Wait. Is there something more nefarious afoot? Is that why you didn't run the original article?"
    "Maybe I just did the cops a solid, Turner."
    I shook my head. Something wasn't right here.
    "You heard about Harve Dawson's place getting hit last night, right?" I asked. "Shelby Lynn's on her way to get some pictures. I suspect we'll have additional proof that the same vandals are responsible. What then? Do we sit on it some more?"
    Stan shook his head. He looked tired.
    "No. When we've got the proof, we'll run with it."
    I frowned. "Stan, is everything okay?" I asked.
    "Sure, Turner. Just peachy. You pick up the city and county arrest reports yet?" he asked.
    "Just getting to that," I said.
    "Don't forget we've got the Pioneer Days celebration at the County Park. You and Shelby got the donkey ball deal and the Wild West shindigs covered?"
    "We're on it, boss."
    The Historical Village celebration and fundraiser sounded like fun. The first night featured a donkey softball game pitting the city of New Holland against Grandville. And the next night, a Wild West masquerade party in the Knox County Historical Village that included a concert, dance, and silent auction. I smiled. I'd get to dress up in my best cowgirl regalia, enjoy cold beer and mouthwatering country cuisine, and boot-scoot the night away to toe-tapping music—oh, and get a paycheck for doing it.
    Food, beer, shopping, and compensation. What's not to love, pilgrim?
    I turned to leave.
    "Oh and Turner?"
    "Yeah?"
    "You're right. We report. Readers decide," he said. "Thanks for the reminder."
    Ahh. I felt a pitty-patter in my chest.
    "Now, get your fanny out of my office and get to work!"
    I sighed.
    These boots were made for…gettin' the heck out of Dodge.
     
    *   *   *
     
    I listened to the hum of the dryer as I peered over the material I had spread out on a card table in the lower level family room at my folks'. I'd decided if I was going to have a houseguest, I better tidy up my place a bit. Which started with—laundry. Sigh.
    Next to the card table, I'd set up a dry-erase board. Using fun dry-erase marker colors, I'd constructed a timeline of recent vandalism incidents with dates, times, and locations. By backtracking through various jurisdictions, Shelby Lynn and I had discovered additional incidents of property damage linked to the same group of vandals.
    I stared at the whiteboard trying to make my own connections.
    "I see we've taken doodling to the next level," I heard. "Soon you'll be ready for Sudoku."
    I turned. Taylor stood grinning behind me.
    "What are you doing down here?" I asked.
    "Apparently not my laundry," she said and set her hamper on the floor. "What are you working on?"
    "Just trying to put some pieces together on the vandalism story," I said. "See the big picture."
    Taylor dropped onto the sectional beside me. She stared at the whiteboard and then thumbed through the photographs, examining each of them before going to the next. She turned her attention back to the whiteboard.
    "I thought I heard voices in here." My mother, dressed in business casual even though she worked from home (I'd be in