Page 28 of Promise Keeper

Roy smirked. "Trash is trash no matter what you call it. Now, I'm going to go talk to them about the can in the park."

"Wait," I said, grasping him by the arm. "Can you ask them about something else?" I leaned over to whisper, not wanting everyone at the table to hear about my suspicions of Soapy. "Can you ask about the dumpster behind the Soapy Savant, too? Maybe they can see if there's anything, umm... well, any bones in it now? I'll pay them under the table if they can go through it and see what they find."

Wide-eyed, Roy looked struck by my words. "You're not saying what I think you're saying. I know you aren't thinking that the most honorable among us is dirty rotten."

"Shh!" I tried to quiet him. "Ben and I saw something the other night. It probably has to do with the raccoons, but we need to see if there's anything in that dumpster."

"And you can't just ask him?"

"I don't want him to think we're pointing the finger his direction, especially with Ben being a cop. I don't want to make a big deal of it and this is the easiest way."

"I don't like this." He shook his head. "I want it on the record that I don't like this. I'll give the trash men your offer, but I want my name off the record."

"It is. The Action Agency needs to cover all bases though, right? We can't leave a lead unchecked because it's a friend. That wouldn't be right."

He took a deep drink of his booze. "I don't like it. You're right, but I don't like it."

He left his stool taking his glass with him and made his way over to the guys in the sanitation crew.

"What was that about?" Monica asked.

"He's going to ask if they saw anything when they picked up the trash in the park the other day."

"Why would that get him all in a tizzy?" Johnna asked.

"Oh, you know Roy," I said. "Sometimes it's better not to wonder what's in his head."

"Amen to that," she said.

Monica and Mom shot me shrewed, knowing glances. They knew me too well to think I was being one hundred percent honest. When nothing came from searching the dumpster, I'd feel better about lying. Until then, I'd suffer through it, because I wouldn't drag Soapy's name into this mess.

* * *

That evening after dinner,I left Ben helping Mia with her math homework and met Cass at her Fiddle Dee Doo Inn. When I got home from the Cornerstone I read more of Estelle Brooks's journal. There was a big gap of about three years missing, the pages torn right out at the seam. When the story left off, Estelle and Dalton were embroiled in a passionate love affair. He was stuck in Metamora working at the circus until he paid off his debt to Joseph Longo, but the pair were planning to run away together. Estelle would leave her husband, Paul, high and dry, and Dalton would leave Joseph responsible for his monetary debt to society.

When the story picked back up about three years later, Estelle had a little boy and was living her old life of the Founder's wife like nothing had ever happened. I'd flipped through and scanned the remaining pages of the journal, but didn't see Dalton's name mentioned again.

Tonight, I'd scour that tent for information about Dalton and Estelle. There had to be something about him if he'd worked for Joseph Longo at the circus.

Cass popped out the front door when she saw me coming. Her hair was threaded with pink, green, and blue hair dye, and her face was painted with elaborate makeup, like she was part of the show. She wore a deep emerald satin dress with black netting underneath that came above the knee. "Wow!" I said, taking it all in. "What's this about?"

"One of the fire eaters canceled," she said. "Steve asked me to fill in. He promised I wouldn't have to do anything but stand there and look pretty."

"I hope not. You don't know anything about fire eating, do you?"

"Not even a lick."

We trotted across the lawn to the lane. Old Dan and his son Frank Gardner sat out on the porch of the grist mill. "How are the bees?" Old Dan asked. "Tell them I'll be around directly to visit."

"They're buzzing," I said. "I'll let them know. They'll be glad to hear it."

Last fall, Old Dan transferred the huge population of bees that had a hive encompassing the entire interior of one of my porch columns into a bee box he built. We had so much honey we were swamped with it. He told me I had to talk to them or they'd swarm. In all honesty, I hadn't been out to see them since the ice thawed. When I got back home tonight, I'd check in on them.

"Tell Monica we've got more of that corn meal ground that she likes for her dog treats," Frank said.

"I'll tell her. I know that's a crowd favorite." My dogs loved her Dog Bark that was made with the grist mill's corn meal.

The carnival tent was fairly empty when we arrived. It was a Monday night after all, and the bus wasn't due to bring the crowd from dinner for another half hour. Steve sat inside on a red and gold throne-like chair that sat atop a thread-bare oriental rug. Beside him sat an antique cash register and he counted out a stack of money. He'd brought more items out into the tent than what I'd seen the other day.

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