Free A Carol for a Corpse by Claudia Bishop

leads us in prayer.”
    Obediently, Quill fumbled in the pocket of her long wool skirt for her sketchpad. Dookie Shuttleworth thanked the Lord for the many blessings given to Hemlock Falls. Elmer rapped the gavel and asked for a motion to read the minutes. Esther West somewhat testily pointed out that they always opened the Chamber meeting by reading the minutes and why did they have to take a vote? The several minutes it took to settle this point of order gave Quill the chance to flip through her sketchbook to the November meeting. The relevant page was embellished with a sketch of Elmer dressed as a Pilgrim, a sketch of Adela Henry in the guise of a ferocious Apache wielding a tomahawk in Elmer’s direction, and an attractive series of swooping lines that looked like a Dada-esque version of a lemon pie with the figure $233.43 written underneath.
    “Minutes of the last meeting,” Elmer said, with a thwack of the gavel.
    Quill looked at the otherwise blank page and said in an authoritative voice: “The November eighth meeting of the Hemlock Falls Chamber of Commerce was called to order by Mayor Elmer Henry at ten o’clock.”
    “No, it wasn’t,” Esther said fussily. “We started an hour late, Mayor, because you and Adela had that huge argument over the Thanksgiving Day Parade.”
    That accounted for Adela’s ax and the panicked expression on the Pilgrim mayor’s face. Quill made a little note next to Apache Adela.
    “Did you make that correction, Quill?” Esther asked.
    “I did. Thank you, Esther.” Quill cleared her throat. “Old business centered around a discussion of the Thanksgiving Day Parade and the success of the Veteran’s Day bake sale, which yielded a profit of two hundred and thirty-three dollars and forty-three cents.”
    “Actually, the bake sale profit was a hundred and ninety-eight dollars and sixty-six cents,” Esther said. “I paid myself back for the coffee cups and napkins I had to buy because we ran out right in the middle of the sale. And the reason we ran out is because nobody listened to a word I said about how many coffee cups and napkins we were going to need.”
    “You spent thirty-five dollars and change on coffee cups?” Carol Ann Spinoza demanded. “That is a total abuse of public funds.” Carol Ann had the blond, athletic good looks of a high school cheerleader. Her hair was drawn up in a neat ponytail. She always smelled of shampoo and soap. She was the cleanest person Quill had ever met in this life. She was also the scariest. As town tax assessor, Carol Ann gave new meaning to the term “abuse of power.”
    The meeting descended into familiar squabbles, with Carol Ann’s high, sticky-sweet voice dominating the uproar.
    Quill drew her charcoal pencil from her other pocket and turned to a clean page in her sketchbook. She drew a tropic island, a peaceful beach, and a little swimsuited Meg and Quill lying under a palm tree. By the time she’d sketched in a muscular beach boy carrying a pitcher with paper umbrellas sticking out of the top, the acrimony over the bake sale expenditures had died away.
    “And what about new business, Quill?” Elmer said.
    Quill paged back to her November notes. “Golly, Elmer. We didn’t have any new business.”
    “We didn’t?”
    “Nonsense,” Carol Ann said. “I have some new business.”
    Since Carol Ann’s interruption violated Robert’s Rules of Order, everyone felt safe ignoring her.
    “Nothing,” Quill said cheerfully. “And a good thing, too. It’s a perfect time to take a vacation. You’ve worked hard all year, Elmer. We all have. I think we should just kick back and maybe have a party. We have the one hundred and ninety-eight dollars from the bake sale, after all. That’ll buy a few rum toddies down at the Croh Bar.”
    “I find that a very frivolous suggestion,” Adela said reprovingly. “And you’ve been quite remiss in your taking of the minutes, Quill.” The words “as usual” hung in the air.