Haunted (Michael Bennett 10)

I saw the pained look on Mary Catherine’s face. She was afraid she was going to lose me to some new investigation.

Sandy said, “The town is going to be mobbed for the Fourth of July parade. We have three of our officers out with the flu and two others on vacation. We could really use some help keeping the crowds in check and making sure no one does anything stupid.”

“All you need me for is crowd control?”

“That’s it, Detective. Are you too good for it anymore?”

I could read the relief on Mary Catherine’s face. But I still waited until she gave me a little nod of her head.

Sandy said, “It’ll earn this beautiful family of yours seats in the reviewing stand right in the center of town.”

I said, “I’m sure I could handle just about anything that walks in your town. Except maybe an errant moose.”

Sandy laughed and said, “That’d be funnier if I hadn’t had to chase off more than my share of moose over the years.”

It was awfully good to see her again.

Chapter 42

On the Fourth of July, all the kids could talk about was the parade. They had been to all kinds of parades in the city. Parades for the Yankees, gay pride parades, parades celebrating every possible nationality, and, of course, the obligatory Saint Patrick’s Day parade. Seamus was generally in charge of getting everyone excited about that.

Today I was already arguing with the old man about whether he would use a wheelchair.

He said, “I don’t need a wheelchair. I can walk as well as anyone.”

“But Seamus, we don’t know what the crowds are going to be like. It may get hot by the time the parade gets going. It just makes good sense for you to make use of the wheelchair we toted along.”

“It also makes sense for me to get some exercise.”

Jane stepped up next to her great-grandfather and said, “What if I promise to stay right next to him the whole day?” She looped her arm through his, and the old man beamed.

I couldn’t say no to that. It was one of the sweetest gestures I’d ever seen one of the kids make toward their great-grandfather.

As we were about to leave the house, the wheelchair was in its normal place by the front door, but Seamus had something else in his hand.

I blurted out, “What the hell?”

He held up the black top hat and smiled. Then he slipped it on his white head. “Quite dashing, don’t you think?”

“If you’re the guy from Monopoly.”

“The brim will keep the sun off my face, and if we’re in the reviewing stand people might think I’m in charge.”

“Well, there’s no arguing with that logic.” It was all I could do to usher my grandfather to the van and pacify the kids who were already in their seats, ready to go.

After I got the family settled in the comfortable reviewing stand, I swung by the police staging area, and Sandy gave me a vest to put over my shirt that said PARADE MARSHAL. My only real connection to the police, though, was the portable radio she gave me. My job was simply to keep people from wandering into the street, and if I saw something serious, I was to get on the radio.

I started my job as a volunteer for the Linewiler Police Department. Sandy had recruited several others. Two were retired cops living in town, and one was an off-duty firefighter. I imagined it was hard for most men to say no to her.

I tried to enjoy the parade, watching the homemade floats and listening to the bands as they marched by. The theme, of course, was the pioneer spirit of Maine and national pride. More than one float looked like it had a papier-mâché Paul Bunyan on it. When I asked, I was told it was just a woodsman. Of course Paul Bunyan was not from Maine.

I stuck fairly close to the reviewing stand and noticed how many people came up to introduce themselves to my family. It took some people a few seconds to realize that all the kids were in one family. Looking at it from their perspective, I could see why they might be a little confused. But this was the new millennium, and kids were being adopted by an increasing number of families in the United States.

The other thing I noticed was how well the local cops were treated by the people from the town. It was nothing like New York, where the cops had to be on edge and in survival mode almost all the time. The townspeople were calling the cops by their first names and slapping them on the back.

New millennium or not, that was something I wasn’t used to.

Chapter 43