'She got the line right this time,' said Quill. , The 'judge' - Gil in a black cloak, a tricorne hat, and a ruffled shirt - handed Mavis over for trial.
'Of course,' Edward observed with a mischievous glance at Quill. 'The French costumes. So much more attractive than those staid Pilgrims.'
Screaming enthusiastically, Mavis was dragged to the ducking stool, roped in, and swung aloft. The front loader flipped forward, and Mavis slid into the pond. She emerged and swam to shore to loud applause.
'They go to the pavilion and have the trial next,' said Quill.
'What happens there?' asked Edward.
'Well, she's tried. Convicted. There's this speech. Elmer comes out from behind the fence with a horse-drawn sledge and she's drawn off on it just long enough to substitute a dummy. The sledge comes back with a hooded dummy on it - they believed witches could hypnotize you to hell with their eyes. There's a procession to the foot of that statue of General Hemlock, and then a bunch of guys lower a barn door onto the dummy and the crowd piles stones on it.'
'My goodness!' said Mrs. Hallenbeck. 'The violence of these Pilgrims.'
'Straight out of a Shirley Jackson story,' muttered Edward. Gil, his arm around a laughing Mavis, broke away from the crowd at the pond and headed toward them. Keith Baumer and Marge followed them like hopeful puppies.
'You're soaking wet, Mavis,' said Mrs. Hallenbeck. 'You should change.'
'Don't worry your little ol' head about me,' said Mavis with a broad smile. 'So. What d'yall think?'
'You were marvelous,' said Quill promptly. 'It's going beautifully. If you don't mind, I'm going to take Mrs. Hallenbeck back to the Inn. I've got a lot of work backed up.'
'Oh, we'll take care of Mrs. Hallenbeck,' said Gil. He swept his tricorne off his head with a flourish. 'Ma'am? Mavis has told me all about you. I'm eager to make your acquaintance. Mavis here suggested we take you down to the pavilion so you can watch the rest of the play. Then we're going along to Marge's diner for a bite of supper- Keith, Marge, Mavis, and me.'
Mavis batted her eyelashes at Edward. 'Why don't you come along, too?' She smoothed her print dress over her hips. 'I am just dyin' to hear what you think of the rest of it. And Amelia? You're going to love Gil, here. I have to tell you he reminds me a lot of your late husband, good man that he was.' She smiled even more broadly at Quill. 'Now, what's that worried frown for? I've been taking care of this lady for a good many years now. She's in good hands, Miss Quilliam.'
Quill, walking back to the Inn alone, had begun to doubt that very much.
'It's not that I have anything to go on other than this feeling, Myles,' she said to him over a late dinner. 'There's just something odd about Mavis.'
'What, exactly?'
'The first day she was here, she was - I don't know. I thought. This poor woman is completely under Mrs. Hallenbeck's thumb. I even thought how awful her life must be, at this dreadful old woman's beck and call. But now...' She moved the salt and pepper shakers a little closer to the sugar bowl, then back again. The dining room was quiet. Most of the staff had gone home.
'Now, what?'
'Mrs. Hallenbeck isn't dreadful - just pathetic and lonely. And I don't think it's the Valium that's making Mavis so...'
'Slutty?' suggested Myles.
'... she's just like that!'
'Sheriffl' Davey Kiddermeister rapped at the dining room door and walked in. The youngest of the uniformed officers on Myles's force, his normally ruddy face was pale. 'Sheriff? Gil Gilmeister's dead. They found him drowned over to the duck pond. Where the play was on this afternoon. He and Marge and a couple of guests from the Inn were at the Croh Bar. Guess they were getting into the booze pretty good.'
'Dammit!' said Myles. He rose in a single powerful movement. 'Quill. You stay here, understand me? I don't want you meddling.'
Quill, a little numb with shock, followed them out the door.
-5-
Davey raced ahead to set up the floodlights. Following Myles to the duck pond, Quill saw that the moon was a ghostly galleon riding the wine-dark sea. Bess, the landlord's daughter, she told herself in justification, would have been a lot better off if she'd done something rather than hanging out the Inn window fiddling with her hair.
'Myles.'
Myles didn't bother to turn around, but threw over his shoulder, 'Back to the Inn, Quill.'
'T-lot t-lot to you, too,' she muttered, jogging behind him. Then aloud, 'If nothing else, I can see that the rescue team gets coffee.'
The red lights of the ambulance spun wildly, bouncing off the cars and pickup trucks already jamming the small parking lot. Most of the onlookers were patrons-in-residence at the Croh Bar. Situated directly across from the Volunteer Firemens' garage, the bar acted as a kind of holding pen for rubberneckers.
There was a shout. The floodlights switched on. Quill stopped, dismayed. Gil's body lay face-down on the grass beside the pond, the ducking stool twisting slowly above him. Mavis and Marge, both soaking wet, huddled near the body. Keith Baumer was nowhere in sight. There was a short silence as Myles approached, then a babble of voices.
'Who pulled him out?' asked Myles. Davey jerked his thumb at Marge.
'Andy Bishop here?' Myles crouched by the body.
