A Sticky Situation by Jessie Crockett Page B

from Karen’s place I had to ask myself if there was any way that the police had found Spooner all those years ago and if the chief had managed to make sure he wasn’t ever found again. While it wasn’t exactly what Lowell had authorized, I decided the next person I had to talk to was Preston Byrnes.

Twelve

    Preston had been a fixture in Sugar Grove forever. Like my grandfather he had been born and raised here. When I was a kid I had found him intimidating and had been glad Lowell had replaced him as chief when I was still in elementary school.
    Grampa always said Preston meant well but he came off as unnecessarily heavy-handed to most people. I had gotten the impression he enjoyed pointing out wrongdoing. Now I had to wonder if he was just an old grump because he was heartbroken over his marriage breaking up.
    I was fairly certain I’d be able to locate Preston in his usual chair at the barbershop. He had far more freckles than hair on his head but he got Gus the barber to give him a trim every couple of days anyway. The days he wasn’t getting a trim he sat reading the paper andlooking out the plate glass window onto Main Street. I parked the minivan more carefully than I might have generally done since I could feel him eyeing me, measuring up the distance I’d left from the hydrant on the corner.
    â€œHope you’re not here for a trim. Gus is off for the day,” Preston said, laying his newspaper on the seat next to him.
    â€œWhy’s the shop open if he won’t be here?”
    â€œBecause I have a key and he likes me to sit in the front window scaring off the riffraff.” Many years earlier some teenagers from out of town had tried to hold Gus up not realizing the old guy waiting for a trim was armed and always happy to be thought of as dangerous.
    In short order three embarrassed kids were in the back of Lowell’s cruiser and Preston and Gus were on the evening news. Gus has provided free trims to law enforcement officers ever since and Preston hangs out, keeping an eye on the place.
    â€œI wasn’t here for a haircut anyway. I dropped in to see you.”
    â€œWhat about?” Preston scowled at me. I sat two seats down from him and tried to look earnest and a little desperate.
    â€œHooliganism. I can’t talk to Lowell about it because he’s just too close to the family.”
    â€œSomebody in your family is kicking up a bunch of dust?” That got his attention. His ears started swiveling like an old-fashioned satellite dish. He snatched the paper off the chair beside him and patted it with agnarled hand. I moved over and lowered my voice to barely above a whisper.
    â€œHazel’s been out joyriding. She wrecked my car and did her best to corrupt a youth while she was at it.”
    â€œShe’s always been a rip, that woman. Was the kid underage?”
    â€œNope. That was the only saving grace to the entire incident. We’re at our wits’ end. I’m afraid she’s incorrigible.”
    â€œEvery year she manages to get up to some new sort of deviltry.”
    â€œDo you remember the year she led a naked toboggan team down the sled route?”
    â€œHard to forget a thing like that. The worst part was the way Hazel kept asking if I was gonna frisk her.” Preston shook his head hard, like he was trying to rattle the image out of his eyeballs. “Something about the maple festival brings out the worst in that woman.”
    â€œThat’s just it. Hazel’s shenanigans have got to be the worst thing to ever take place during the festival.” I waited to see if he would take the bait. Preston wasn’t a gossip like Myra but he was a born storyteller. Which is why he spent so much time at the barbershop. He had a built-in audience.
    â€œYou can take heart in the knowledge she hasn’t caused the biggest stir,” he said. I crossed my arms and tipped my head like I couldn’t believe what I was