Page 49 of Promise Keeper

Andy left and I sat down waiting for Steve to realize I'd become his new helper. Had he known all along that the bones were his great-grandfather's? Was he sitting back letting the rest of us chase our tails trying to figure it out?

The visitors approached the table and I greeted each, took their admission money, and handed them a pamphlet from a pile on the table. "Enjoy your visit," I said.

"Cameron," Steve said, following up the rear of the group, "I didn't know you were here. Where's Andy?"

"He had to get back to work. I told him I'd help out."

"I appreciate it."

"I was coming to talk to you anyway. I have something important to ask you."

"Sure. Can it wait though? I need to tend to my guests."

"It can. Not long, though." He wasn't weaseling his way out of this.

He hurried away, weaving through the crowd.

I waited a half an hour, answering questions like where are the restrooms, and what does the grist mill sell. Steve was still busying himself, but I was speaking to more of his visitors than he was. He was avoiding me.

Done with the brush off, I strode over to him. "Time to chat," I said. "I know the bones are your great-grandfather's. The finger Irene found had a ring on it with his monogram."

"My great-grandfather's bones?" His shoulders relaxed. "No, Cameron, my great-grandfather was cremated. I have his ashes in a Celtic urn in the shop."

"Cremated? Again with the cremated?"

"As far as I know it was only the once," he said, eyeing me with concern. "Are you feeling okay?"

"No, I'm not. How did a ring with your great-grandfather's initials get on that finger? Did he have a signet ring with his monogram on it?"

"What I do know is that it wasn't his finger. I can show you his ashes if you want. The urn is very unique. He found it when his circus was traveling through Scotland."

I didn't have time to travel down this rabbit hole if the bones weren't Joseph Longo's. "I thought for sure it was him."

"I can't say I'm sorry it isn't. He's resting peacefully where he's been for near a hundred years and I wouldn't want it any other way."

"Of course not. I'm glad he is. Thanks for humoring me."

"Good luck," he said, as I walked away, frustration ebbing at the edges.

* * *

That nightI couldn't stop feeling like I'd been close enough to touch the truth only to have it snatched back like one of Mom's wedding invitations. How many men who lived in this town a hundred years ago could've had the initials JAL? More than one? The odds were against it. But if Joseph Longo's ashes were in a Celtic urn like Steve said, then the bones couldn't be his.

"I thought I heard those raccoons again," Ben said, coming in to bed. "But it was Liam racing around downstairs. He has to get all that energy out I guess."

"He has to do his zoomies before he can calm down and go to sleep."

I'd gone upstairs earlier and left Ben downstairs watching TV. I had to read more of Estelle Brooks's journal. Even if it contained not one clue about who the bones could belong to, it was a mystery in itself. What happened during all those years of missing journal pages? Did Estelle and Dalton ever reunite?

Ben got in bed and opened his own book. "I'm afraid my mom will be charged with hindering an investigation," he said. "The Franklin County Sheriff's aren't interested in doing me any favors."

I closed the journal and set it on my lap. "What about Soapy? He did the same thing."

"There wasn't an ongoing investigation when he did it. You found the bones after he moved them from his dumpster."

"Still, though."

"You were ready to rip my head off when I suggested the possibility of Soapy being charged, now you think he should be?"

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