Free Murder of a Smart Cookie: A Scumble River Mystery by Denise Swanson Page B

mentioned at the bingo game you were staying with your folks for the duration.” Mrs. Griggs waved. “Good night, Sterling.”
    Skye shook her head as she watched Mrs. Griggs climb into an ancient Lincoln and drive off. Imagine Mrs. Griggs thinking that Skye was her reincarnated daughter. Still, Skye had felt an immediate connection withthe older woman, almost a sense of having known her before. Skye shook her head again. No, that kind of thinking was silly. Mrs. Griggs was just a lonely old lady who missed her daughter. Skye felt sorry for her. There was nothing supernatural in that.
    The Route 66 Yard Sale officially started at eight a.m. Skye was in her office and on the phone by six. Her first calls were to all the other towns participating. No one was officially in charge of the whole sale; each town had its own coordinator, who took care of his or her section, but Dante had been the driving force behind the idea, so keeping an eye on the entire event fell to Skye.
    By seven-fifteen she had talked to the people in charge in Elwood, Wilmington, Braidwood, Godley, Braceville, Gardner, Brooklyn, Dwight, Odell, Pontiac, Chenoa, Lexington, Towanda, and Funks Grove. The larger cities of Joliet and Normal had declined to participate, although their hotels and restaurants were happy to accommodate the people pouring in for the sale.
    When Skye finished her last phone call, she stood and adjusted the official Route 66 Yard Sale black-and-white baseball cap on her head, then tucked the matching T-shirt into her black shorts, made sure her tennis shoes were tied tightly, and clipped her walkie-talkie to her belt.
    Before leaving for the sale’s grand opening, she went next door to the police station to talk to Wally about Alma Griggs and Cookie Caldwell, but she was told Wally was already out patrolling the yard sale. She would have to catch him sometime later in the day.
    During the short golf cart ride to the ribbon-cutting ceremony, Skye went over her mental to-do list. After the opening, she wanted to make a circuit of the booths to see that they were having a smooth start. She especially needed to check on the Doozier Petting Zoo. She just knew that lion would cause trouble. Her only hope was that the Dooziers had not made the necessary improvements and the inspector had closed them down.
    As Skye pulled up to the black-and-white-checkered ribbon stretched across Maryland Street at Kinsman, Skye caught her breath. Behind the barricades, as far as she could see, was a wall of people. She looked at her watch. It was only seven-thirty, half an hour before the sale would open. How long had these people been gathering, and what had they done with all their cars?
    Skye had gotten permission from the owner of the out-of-business aerosol can factory on the corner of Scumble River Road and Route 66 to use that site as a parking lot, but would that be enough? And if it wasn’t, what would happen?
    Although the main opening ceremony was to take place in Scumble River, most of the small towns along the route were having their own ribbon cuttings. Skye wondered briefly what kind of crowds had gathered for them, and would consequently be wending their way toward Scumble River later in the day.
    Her thoughts were interrupted by one of the part-time policemen that Wally had called in for the sale. “Ma’am? You’re in charge here, right?”
    “Yes, officer.” Skye smiled at the young man, even though she hated being called “ma’am.” He didn’t look much more than eighteen and seemed extremely uncomfortable in his uniform. “Can I help you?”
    “We’re diverting traffic around Maryland by taking them north on Kinsman, then west on Springfield, and back south on Rosemary Road.”
    Skye nodded, wondering why he was giving her a geography lesson.
    “Well, the sale hasn’t even started yet and traffic is already backed up as far as Brooklyn. The police there just called and asked us to kindly get the galldarn cars moving. What