Page 55 of Promise Keeper

I searched his face for signs of emotion. I didn't know what they'd talked about, but he seemed to be okay. I took the phone from him and held it to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Cameron," Irene said. "I want to invite you to the Daughter's meeting tonight."

"The Daughters meeting?" Was she still president?

"We've changed the format a bit. There are no officers. Cass has volunteered to come up with some ideas for our monthly meetings. Tonight we're having dinner at the Briar Bird Inn. It's open to any woman in town, not only the ancestors of the founders. We're dropping the historic part of the name and just making it the Daughters of Metamora. We're meeting at six if you can make it."

You could've knocked me over with a feather. Cass had gotten her wish already and didn't even have to wait until the older generation had left the Daughters to the younger ones. "Thanks for the invitation, Irene. I'll be there."

"Good. This is much more inclusive than before. I think it's a good way forward for the Daughters."

"I think so, too."

It was also the only way Irene and Fiona would be able to keep their club intact and not be kicked out. I guessed there was nothing more humbling than the threat of being locked up.

* * *

Later that afternoon,I sat at a table in the Soapy Savant with my Action Agency crew, Roy, Johnna, Logan, and Anna, and I told them the sordid details I'd learned the night before.

"What's gonna happen to the bones, then?" Roy asked. "I don't suppose the fella's got any relations to claim him." We all knew Fiona wouldn't want any part of the remains.

"I had an idea about that," I said, and gave them my thoughts.

They agreed, and as soon as the body was released, we'd put our plan into action.

"I have a bit of a problem," Roy said. "Maybe you four could tell me if I'm going crazy in the head."

"You are," Johnna said. "No question about it."

"What's up, Roy?" I asked.

He leaned in, so nobody else could hear him. "I think my trailer's haunted. It’s that O’Leary fella from the graveyard who got my cheap whiskey spilt on top of him."

"It's not Mr. O’Leary,” I said.

“It’s the raccoons," Anna said. "Did you hear that part of Cam's story about Steve Longo?"

"Listen, little missy, I don't have an attic like Steve Longo, now do I?"

"They've probably made a nest underneath," Logan said.

"If they're underneath my trailer, then why does Ginger stare at the walls and bark her head off?"

"They must be in the walls," Johnna said.

"And how did they get in there if there's no attic?" Roy leaned back in his chair, confident he'd stumped us, and he had. At least he'd stumped me.

"Have you walked around your trailer and taken a look at every nook and cranny where a critter could hide?" Johnna asked.

"No, I have not. It's muddy and I don't want to ruin my boots."

"Maybe we should check it out," Logan suggested.

The rest of us agreed, and got up from the table to leave and traipse across the bridge and down the road to Roy's house.

It was bright out, not a cloud in the sky and the air was fresh and warm. There was nothing like the smell of spring, grass warming in the sun, and dampness evaporating from the ground. All of our neighbors were out and about, running errands or tidying up their yards.

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