Free A Finder's Fee by Jim Lavene, Joyce Page B

the car.
    It was a sad day for Duck residents to see one of their own, a man people looked up to for many years, led away with his head down and wrists cuffed. Some people in the crowd booed and protested their candidate being taken away.
    I wished there had been another way to do this. I knew the chief was only doing what he had to, but maybe he should have waited until he had Mad Dog by himself. It wasn’t like the councilman was a flight risk.
    He’d be taken to Manteo, to the county jail, no doubt. I was sure he’d be bailed out right away. His family owned property and was well off. Besides, what bail bondsman wouldn’t take the word of a town council member?
    Mad Dog had been committed to the good of our town for as long as I could remember. Our ideas on how that good should be done clashed sometimes, but it was impossible to imagine he’d killed a man and buried him in his car. Even though I’d seen the skeleton and the car, it was very hard to take in.
    Randal “Mad Dog” Wilson was a lot older than me, so I didn’t really feel like I knew him personally like Gramps and Chief Michaels did. I wanted to believe the best of him even though the evidence must have been substantial for the chief to take such strong action.
    I avoided the coffee shop as I skirted around the crowd. I knew everyone would have questions. I didn’t want to be the one they asked. It was too obviously in my favor for my opponent to go to jail.
    Instead I continued home with Treasure to do my laundry and consider how trying to find a dead witch had led me to a dead race car driver.
    “Pardon me,” Maggie interrupted. “I was never a witch. I thought you understood that.”
    “Sorry. It was because everyone keeps calling you that. I’ll try not to let it happen again.”
    She exclaimed over the curtains in my bedroom and how they would make a lovely summer gown. I asked her to step back again and let me get finished cleaning up.
    Gramps finally got home at about six thirty. I’d spent the rest of the day dusting, mopping and scrubbing. Everything smelled clean and fresh. My laundry was washed, dried and folded in the same day for once. I’d even changed the sheets on our beds and washed them too.
    Gramps sniffed appreciatively as he came in the back door in his stocking feet. That meant he’d left his smelly fishing boots on the porch. “Smells like supper. Is that my granddaughter’s famous corn fritters and beans?”
    “It is.” I heaped the fritters on a plate. “And there’s apple cobbler for dessert.”
    “I should go away early without breakfast more often.” He looked up at the light over the kitchen table. “And no cobwebs. You’ve been busy.”
    “Yep.” I put out the casserole dish of beans and waited for him to wash his hands at the sink. “They arrested Mad Dog at the coffee shop today. It was terrible.”
    “I know.” He took a seat at the table. “I met with Ronnie, Tuck Riley and Luke Helms early this morning. I knew it was coming. They were only waiting for the judge to sign the papers.”
    “So Sheriff Riley got in on it too. He wasn’t at the coffee shop today.”
    “Ronnie insisted it was a town arrest, but Tuck said it was a county cold case. They’re like a couple of sharks going after a piece of raw meat sometimes.” He chuckled. “I’m glad I’m not part of that anymore.”
    “I guess the evidence was overwhelming, huh?” I passed the beans after Gramps had taken his fill of corn fritters.
    “I don’t know about it being overwhelming, Dae. But those were Joe Walsh’s remains in Mad Dog’s old car. The medical examiner hasn’t said what cause of death is yet, but Mad Dog is the logical suspect. I would’ve done the same thing.”
    “It’s hard to believe someone you’ve known all of your life could do something like that. You know, we always tend to think the bad stuff comes in with the people from outside Duck. Was Mad Dog that different back then? I know he’s belligerent