Free The Sham (A Chloe Boston Mystery Book 14) by Melanie Jackson Page A

bowels.
    “You don’t have to eat the corned beef,” I explained. “The restaurant we’ll be dining at serves some of the finest cuisine in the state. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
    “Aye. I’ll enjoy not spending the night in the loo, that’s what I’ll enjoy.”
    I was beginning to understand why the dignitaries were so quiet and sullen. The mayor from Ireland was a bitter old man. No wonder no one wanted to speak with him. I for one gave up trying. My father looked to me and winked indicating that he’d had no better luck during his time with the man. Instead of attempting to engage the mayor, I watched the falls and waited in silence.
    I grew excited when the shade of the falls first started to change. Several people stood and pointed. I stood with them. The crowd started to cheer. Then, all at once, things went horribly wrong as the falls turned a vivid crimson.
    “Why is it red?” I heard someone ask.
    “Maybe a whale has been slaughtered up river,” someone else suggested.
    “Don’t be an idiot, how could a whale swim up the falls? It must be the salmon!”
    But the crimson waters did look like they were saturated with blood. As the falls foamed pink at their base, the dye spread out and began to turn the river red.
    “Good Lord, Mary, and Joseph,” Mayor Gilhoolie exclaimed, probably remembering his Bible lessons. “Sure now but that is a terrible sight.”
    I looked to my father who was already on his cell phone.
    “Get me Keith Regan on the line immediately,” my father ordered.
    I watched anxiously as my father waited to be connected.
    “Hello, Regan. This is the chief,” my father finally said. “No, not that chief, the other one. This is Mayor Boston is what I meant to say. What the hell are you doing up there?”
    There was a brief pause as my father listened.
    “Of course the dye wasn’t supposed to be red. We’re celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day not the anniversary of the Valentine’s Day massacre. Stop dumping the dye now!”
    There was another pause.
    “What do you mean you’ve already dumped it all? Good God,” my father said, looking to the increasingly crimson river as he terminated the call.
    I glanced around the stands and saw that the crowd was already beginning to disperse. Amongst them there were grumbles of dissatisfaction. Many of the children were crying as their parents tried in vain to explain that no whales had died. Gordon was trying to maintain order; but let’s face facts, it’s hard to take orders from a man with green hair. Meanwhile, the news crews were having a field day. Several reporters were rushing the stands in the hope of getting a few words from my father.
    “Chloe, would you do me a huge favor and get Mayor Gilhoolie out of here?” Dad asked. “He isn’t…um… press-friendly.”
    “Sure, Pop,” I replied. “Mayor, would you mind accompanying me back to your motel?”
    “Anything would be better than staying here,” he replied. “If I’d wanted more damp weather, I could have stayed home.”
    We slipped from the stands unmolested. I led the way to my car parked out on the street.
    “I’m sorry you had to see that,” I told the mayor.
    “Terrible, just terrible,” he muttered under his breath.
    Personally, I didn’t see what was so terrible about the display. The red color was cheerful. Bright even.
    Actually, on second thought, I guess I did. The river I grew up on was now looking like it was running thick with blood. The mayor had it right. It was almost as if a biblical plague had been cast down upon the town. For a brief moment, I was fully prepared to be overrun by locusts or for it to start raining frogs.

Chapter 2

    I let Mayor Gilhoolie into the passenger seat of my car and climbed in behind the wheel. As I started the engine, the mayor laid a hand on my arm to stop me.
    “What do you say we stop off for a drink before going to my motel?” he suggested.
    I saw no harm in his suggestion. We had some time to kill.