The baton twirlers were my favorites, especially the youngest ones, the Baby Batoneers. Twenty little girls between the ages of four and six wore adorable sparkly pink costumes and could barely twirl those batons between their tiny fingers. But their enthusiasm was compelling and they gave it their all, even when a few of them slipped and fell while trying to chase down the occasional errant baton.
Whitney, still fragile from Althea’s attack—and milking it for all it was worth—sat in the back of Tommy’s official police department float. She was wrapped in a cashmere blanket and waved regally as though she were Queen of the Rose Parade. The fact that she was sitting on a bale of hay and surrounded by the twelve dogs owned by the police officers on the force took nothing away from her imperious debutante demeanor.
I was very proud of the homemade float I had created. Basically it was my truck, covered in crepe paper and gauzy red-and-white hearts and flowers, and an oversized banner that read HAMMER CONSTRUCTION COMPANY, FOR ALL YOUR BUILDING NEEDS. Dad drove the truck and I sat in the back with a bunch of kids from the neighborhood. They all wore hard hats and tool belts and carried colorful plastic hammers, which they banged on every conceivable surface they could find. We waved and cheered and threw chocolate kisses to the crowd and we were accompanied by our pets, of course. Pets were a major theme this year, so I had Robbie and Tiger with me. Tiger didn’t appreciate having to wear a leash, but she definitely enjoyed the adulation of the crowd.
The parade announcer highlighted our choice of Eric Jensen as grand marshal of the Valentine’s Festival this year. He had been given the honor because he was our brand-new chief of police after forty years with old Chief Ray at the helm. Eric was an excellent choice because not only had he raised the morale of our police department, but he’d also solved several awful murders in the short time he’d been in the job.
And besides, who better to lead the Valentine’s Parade than someone as handsome as Eric, who set hearts fluttering all along the route?
Every woman I’d seen so far today had thanked me for choosing Eric.
It was a relief to have everything settled and back to normal, I thought as I waved to the cheering crowd. I’d experienced more than my share of drama lately and I was so looking forward to taking a nice break from all that. Then I spotted Mac in the crowd. When he grinned at me, I tossed him a chocolate kiss, which he snatched out of the air. He followed that with a wink and my insides did a happy little flip—until I found myself glancing around, checking to see if a statuesque blonde might be hovering nearby.
And didn’t that put a damper on the moment? I really had to get over it. I liked Mac a lot. I liked Eric, too, and sometimes I thought that with a little encouragement on my part, the police chief and I could have a nice relationship. When he wasn’t suspecting me of high crimes, that is.
I glanced back at Mac and sighed. I guess I had a few decisions to make. But not today. Today I would relax and take that break I’d been looking forward to. In the meantime, nobody said I couldn’t be equally friendly with both men. So maybe I would. But oh, these matters could get complicated, couldn’t they?
After the parade was over, the floats were parked along one end of the town square where they would be on display for the rest of the afternoon. Everyone in town with a pet took their dogs and cats and hamsters and bunnies—and one potbellied pig—over to the stage where the pet fashion show was about to begin. The audience was filling up and a lot of kids were already sitting on the grass by the stage, waiting for the show to begin.
I had Robbie on a leash, but I carried Tiger in my arms to keep her calm. Robbie looked dashing in his plaid outfit and I’d entered Tiger in the pet-owner look-alike contest. I didn’t expect to win since our only similarity was the reddish color of her fur and my hair. But I knew it would be fun and that was what mattered today.
“So you dare to show your face here after what you did to me?”
I turned and almost groaned. Always the drama queen. “Hello, Whitney.”
“I could’ve died and it would be your fault.”
“No, it would be your fault. I told you to leave. I told you there was danger. Didn’t you even notice that we were duct-taped to our chairs? What’s wrong with you?”
“Don’t talk to me like that. I was traumatized.”
I took a deep breath. “I know, and I’m sorry. But that’s Althea Tannis’s fault, not mine. She’s a cold-blooded killer and I hope you’ll testify at her trial.”
“I most certainly will.”
“Good.” I gave her a curt wave. “Okay, bye-bye.”
“Not so fast. You—”
She was interrupted when Ralphie Smith, our town’s perennial theatrical director, shouted from the stage, “Hey, Shannon, the fashion show’s about to begin. We need you up here.”
I had volunteered to announce the first part of the Pet Parade Fashion Show. I waved to him. “Be right there, Ralphie.”