“I’m afraid she’s going to need surgery,” he said, showing Lucy the x-ray. “There’s something obstructing her intestines, “he said, pointing to a bright shape, “right here where the jejunum begins.”
“Is it risky?” asked Lucy, horrified.
“Well, there’s always some risk with an operation, anesthesia. It’s not risk free but there’s really no alternative. Whatever it is, we’ve got to get it out.” He patted her on the shoulder. “It’s pretty common, especially with Labs. They’ll eat anything they can swallow. Believe me, I’ve found some pretty weird stuff. The worst was a steak knife. Fortunately the dog swallowed it handle first. Otherwise…” he rolled his eyes, leaving the sentence unfinished.
“It won’t pass on its own?” suggested Lucy, ever hopeful.
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
The house seemed oddly empty without Libby, which was ridiculous since there were four of them gathered around the table for a quick meal before they all went to the Friday night football game. Lucy wasn’t really in the mood—she was worried about the dog who hadn’t come out of surgery yet—but she couldn’t let Sara down. This was the official season opener, the traditional game against the Gilead Giants, and Sara’s debut as a cheerleader.
“Are you nervous?” asked Zoe, biting into her hot dog.
“Mostly excited,” said Sara, taking tiny bites of a dill pickle slice. “We’ve rehearsed so much I could do these routines in my sleep.” She paused. “At least I think so.”
“I’m sure you could,” said Lucy. “You’re going to be great. And the Warriors are going to beat the Giants, too.”
“In your dreams,” said Bill.
Receiving a glare from Lucy he amended his statement. “I meant the Giants always win, at least they have for as long as anybody can remember.” He smiled at Sara. “But the cheerleaders will be great.”
“Can I be excused?” asked Sara. “I need to put on my outfit.”
Lucy wished she’d actually eaten her hamburger, instead of shredding it into small pieces on her plate, but figured she was too nervous. “Okay,” she said, just as the phone rang.
Zoe got it, beating her sister to the draw. “It’s for you, Mom. It’s the vet.”
Lucy took the phone, thinking positive thoughts. Bouncy puppies in a field. Libby leaping up to catch a Frisbee. Apparently it worked because the word was that the operation had been successful and Libby was resting comfortably. “Great,” sighed Lucy, “thanks for calling.” Now she could concentrate on the game. Warriors smoothly executing shotgun plays. Warriors completing first down. Warriors rolling down the field like a machine. Warriors scoring. Cheerleaders turning somersaults as crowd goes wild.
Or not. At halftime the score was seven Giants and zip Warriors. Positive thinking apparently had its limits, thought Lucy, who was beaming with pride in any case as Sara and the other Tinker’s Cove cheerleaders took the field.
The girls were adorable in their red and white outfits, little tank tops and short skirts since the weather was warm. She held her breath as Sara was lifted to the top of a pyramid and then dove down into the waiting arms of her teammates.
“I don’t know why people pick on cheerleaders. It’s a sport in its own right—I mean, how many people can do that?” demanded Lucy.
“Not me,” confessed Bill as the girls cartwheeled across the field, ending up in a neat circle. Behind them, the band and color guard were filing on the field, preparing for the big finale.
“I’m going to be a cheerleader, too,” said Zoe, awestruck by her older sister’s transformation into a glamorous icon of femininity.
The band started playing, the color guard started marching around waving red and white streamers on poles, and the cheerleaders were dancing, showing off some fancy footwork, when the announcement came over the loudspeaker.
“We’ve just received word,” came the electronic voice, “that the Tinker’s Cove JV Warriors have won their game versus the Gilead JV Giants. The final score: Warriors fifteen, Giants six.”
The band stepped up the volume, the banner girls waved their poles frantically, and the cheerleaders went flying through the air as the crowd went wild.
“And hell’s freezing over,” said Bill, amazed.
CHAPTER 15
On Monday morning Lucy was unable to dodge the job of typing in the police and fire log. The log was extremely popular with readers, which Lucy found puzzling since it was nothing more than a chronological listing of calls to the police and fire stations for the previous week. It included items such as “Barking dog, Sycamore Lane, 10:27 p.m. Monday” and “Difficulty breathing, Shore Road, 7:12 a.m. Wednesday.” All names were deleted and only the most basic details were given, so Lucy was forced to conclude that the faithful readers spent the week puzzling over the cryptic notations trying to figure out who the barking dog belonged to. Okay, that was easy, the only dog on Sycamore Lane was a pit bull belonging to Tim Rogers, a former star of the Tinker’s Cove High School baseball team who didn’t hold a job but nevertheless was never short of cash. The more interesting question was which of his neighbors got up the nerve to call and complain, since Tim had a hot temper. Then again, she decided, maybe the readers saw it as a challenge, just like her parents used to approach the crossword puzzle in the Sunday New York Times. Some weeks, it took them well into Wednesday before they finished it.
Today, however, as she worked her way through the notations she noticed numerous calls reporting a vagrant. The first call was on the day before Mimi’s funeral, from someone on Parallel Street. Parallel Street ran behind Main and offered a back way into several parking areas including that of Marzetti’s IGA grocery store. This was followed by a call on Wednesday morning from Church Street and another later in the day from Blueberry Pond Road.
With a growing sense of excitement Lucy unfolded the Chamber of Commerce map of Tinker’s Cove and began tracing the various sightings of the vagrant, who she was now convinced was the homeless man. But when she finished she realized she hadn’t actually learned that much. She’d already discovered his camp in the woods between Prudence Path and Blueberry Pond so the fact that he’d been spotted several times in that area was no surprise and neither were the numerous sightings in the supermarket parking lot, where he apparently scrounged for food in the Dumpster. He seemed to spend most of his daytime hours on the move, popping up everywhere from the harbor to construction sites around town, even occasionally in the vicinity of the high school.
Eager to learn more, she dialed the police station, intending to question the dispatcher. Such conversations were against department policy, of course, but she figured it was worth a try and she figured she was in luck when Bobbi Kirwan answered. Lucy was well acquainted with Dot, the matriarch of the Kirwan clan who worked at the IGA, and her numerous offspring who all seemed to work in either the police or fire department. The new chief, in fact, was Dot’s oldest.