Death in a Turkey Town: A Chloe Boston Mystery by Melanie Jackson

paid my dues to the community.
    Weariness did not stop me from noticing that there was some fluid puddled under Althea’s car as we drove past the house.
    “Damn it. I have to stop.” I looked at Frederica. “Wait here.”
    I jumped out of the car and ran up to the porch. There was more glitter on the doormat. Althea peered at me through the peephole when I knocked and then opened the door. I could see Gordon huddled on the sofa, looking miserable. I guess they were facing the first withered tomato in their organic salad bowl of love.
    “Something is leaking from your car and it isn’t window cleaner.” I didn’t know brake fluid from motor oil but it all seemed like stuff one shouldn’t drive without.
    “What?”
    “Call Dad and have him take a look. Don’t drive the car until he says it’s okay.” I looked Althea in the eye and made sure she understood what I was implying.
    “You want to come in?” She sounded shaken.
    “I don’t want to get glitter on my shoes and track it home. It gets on the cats and then they lick themselves.” This was true but not the biggest reason I wanted to avoid my cousin. I believe in rallying around when there is a family crisis but Gordon wasn’t family yet and I couldn’t think of any way to cheer him up.
    “Maybe I should get a cat,” Gordon said morosely from the depths of the sofa. “Or a dog. No one else will talk to me.”
    Maybe you should change your name and join the French Foreign Legion, I thought, but didn’t say it out loud.
    “Chins up, guys,” I said with as much optimism as I could muster. “We’re going to get this straightened out. Just give it a little more time”
    Gordon remained morose but Althea looked a little better. I waved and then hurried back to my cart before she could ask for details on the investigation.
    “I have a cousin too,” Frederica said. “She shaves her head so she can show off her spider tattoos.”
    “Family,” I answered in commiseration. “But what can you do?”
    At that point I was more than ready for the day to be over, but of course it wasn’t. I got to the end of the block and found the mayor ripping down my father’s campaign posters and stomping all over them as he shrieked some really profane things.
    “Shouldn’t you do something about that? That’s vandalism, isn’t it?” Frederica asked. Her camera was pointed at the mayor, who turned at that moment and saw me. Instead of looking guilty, he flashed me the finger.
    “I should, but I can’t. He’ll have me fired.” We watched him stomp over to his car—illegally parked across someone’s driveway— then peeled away with a screeching of tires. The camera followed him. “So, tell me about your blog. Do a lot of people read it?”
    “The blog is good. I have twelve hundred subscribers. But I think putting this on youtube would be even better. The only thing is my pc is in for repairs so it might be a few days before I can post it.” Frederica looked up at me. “Unless you have a computer I can use.”
    “As a matter of fact, I do. Will your parents worry if you’re late getting home?” I asked.
    “No. But I’ll call them anyway. They don’t make a big deal about it but they always worry that I’ll turn out like my cousin.”
    “Okay then.”
    I knew that I shouldn’t let Frederica post this video. Or at least I shouldn’t help her post it. But seeing the mayor ripping up my father’s signs had made me angry. My dad, though a lousy police chief, had as much right to run for mayor as anyone else. There might not be much I could do for Althea right now, but I could help my dad.
    Having a child around is a responsibility and one of the main things to do is feed them when they are hungry. I was out of turkey but still had a nice stash of pie and cookies. A quick call arranged for a pizza to be delivered.
    Alex arrived just as Frederica was ready to upload her files. Feeling a bit punchy after a day with my father, or maybe just curious