Read Online The Sham (A Chloe Boston Mystery Book 14) by Melanie Jackson - Free Book Online
Authors: Melanie Jackson
Tags: Mystery, Washington, cozy mystery, Beer, shamrock, saint patrics day, hope falls, chloe boston
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Chapter 1
I love Saint Patrick’s Day, but not enough to dye my hair green. Even though it was an extra-special celebration we were having this year. Hope Falls had partnered with a sister city in Ireland. Derrydown, and the Irish mayor had come to our town for a cultural exchange and to join us in our Saint Patrick’s Day festivities.
I was a little unclear about how our cultures differed this time of year. The citizens of Hope Falls were guzzling Guinness and eating soda bread while wearing their Celtic jewelry and singing Irish songs in the rain. Perhaps it was the corned beef that set us apart. They don’t actually eat corned beef on Saint Patrick’s Day in Ireland. Mayor Seamus Gilhoolie had told me so.
Though I’d drawn the line at dying my hair, others had not. My father had resisted the temptation, being afraid that his fellow mayor would think he was mocking the man’s country if he showed up in emerald locks, but a lot of city officials had not shown such good taste. That included some of Hope Falls finest. And the not so fine, like Dale Gordon. His wife, Cousin Althea, had made him do it. She is sometimes mean in a domineering way. I thought it made him look even more like a fool than usual.
Today, the morning of Saint Patrick’s Day, we were gathered together at the falls to witness a unique display. While other cities might dye their rivers green in celebration of this day, we in Hope Falls were about to dye our waterfall. That’s right, Keith Regan and several others from the public works department were up river in a flotilla boats loaded with gallons of river-friendly biodegradable green dye just waiting for the signal to start pouring the festive coloring into the river. Within minutes, the dye would diffuse throughout the river and be carried over the falls producing a Saint Patty’s Day display like no other. The town officials, Mayor Gilhoolie, the town’s folk, and several news crews had gathered at the falls to memorialize the event. As the daughter of our current sitting mayor, I had been given the honor of joining the dignitaries on the grandstand setup on shore— our grandstand being two bleachers brought over from the local high school.
“Mayer Gilhoolie,” I commented, “I heard that you got into town yesterday. How have you enjoyed your stay in Hope Falls so far?”
“I had a terrible case of the red-coats’ revenge yesterday. It kept me in my motel room all day,” he replied. “I must have made the mistake of drinking the tap water.”
Oh. Red-coats’ revenge. I’d never heard it put that way before.
“Surely it couldn’t have been our water that caused your difficulties,” the head of our sanitation department retorted before I could speak. His hair happened to be green. “Hope Falls’ water is some of the sweetest in the world.”
“Have it your own way,” the mayor conceded without conceding anything.
A wave of excitement passed through the crowd as news spread that the dye had been released. I felt foolish getting excited by such a childish display but had to admit that I was sitting on the edge of my seat in anticipation of the sight. What can I say? I’m a cheap thrill-seeker.
“Is that green I’m beginning to see?” someone asked.
“No, it’s too early yet,” my father replied. “It will still take several minutes for the dye to make it to the falls.”
The dignitaries slipped back into silence, watching the river for some change. I spotted Gordon patrolling the crowd. The people he passed giggled behind his back at his green hair. What a buffoon.
Though my first attempt had been less than successful, I still felt the need to draw the Irish mayor into some form of conversation.
“Are you looking forward to the Saint Patrick’s Day party tonight, Mayor Gilhoolie?”
“I’m looking forward to the Guinness,” he replied. “I can’t say I’m fond of corned beef though. The cabbage makes me windy.”
The man was obsessed with his
I love Saint Patrick’s Day, but not enough to dye my hair green. Even though it was an extra-special celebration we were having this year. Hope Falls had partnered with a sister city in Ireland. Derrydown, and the Irish mayor had come to our town for a cultural exchange and to join us in our Saint Patrick’s Day festivities.
I was a little unclear about how our cultures differed this time of year. The citizens of Hope Falls were guzzling Guinness and eating soda bread while wearing their Celtic jewelry and singing Irish songs in the rain. Perhaps it was the corned beef that set us apart. They don’t actually eat corned beef on Saint Patrick’s Day in Ireland. Mayor Seamus Gilhoolie had told me so.
Though I’d drawn the line at dying my hair, others had not. My father had resisted the temptation, being afraid that his fellow mayor would think he was mocking the man’s country if he showed up in emerald locks, but a lot of city officials had not shown such good taste. That included some of Hope Falls finest. And the not so fine, like Dale Gordon. His wife, Cousin Althea, had made him do it. She is sometimes mean in a domineering way. I thought it made him look even more like a fool than usual.
Today, the morning of Saint Patrick’s Day, we were gathered together at the falls to witness a unique display. While other cities might dye their rivers green in celebration of this day, we in Hope Falls were about to dye our waterfall. That’s right, Keith Regan and several others from the public works department were up river in a flotilla boats loaded with gallons of river-friendly biodegradable green dye just waiting for the signal to start pouring the festive coloring into the river. Within minutes, the dye would diffuse throughout the river and be carried over the falls producing a Saint Patty’s Day display like no other. The town officials, Mayor Gilhoolie, the town’s folk, and several news crews had gathered at the falls to memorialize the event. As the daughter of our current sitting mayor, I had been given the honor of joining the dignitaries on the grandstand setup on shore— our grandstand being two bleachers brought over from the local high school.
“Mayer Gilhoolie,” I commented, “I heard that you got into town yesterday. How have you enjoyed your stay in Hope Falls so far?”
“I had a terrible case of the red-coats’ revenge yesterday. It kept me in my motel room all day,” he replied. “I must have made the mistake of drinking the tap water.”
Oh. Red-coats’ revenge. I’d never heard it put that way before.
“Surely it couldn’t have been our water that caused your difficulties,” the head of our sanitation department retorted before I could speak. His hair happened to be green. “Hope Falls’ water is some of the sweetest in the world.”
“Have it your own way,” the mayor conceded without conceding anything.
A wave of excitement passed through the crowd as news spread that the dye had been released. I felt foolish getting excited by such a childish display but had to admit that I was sitting on the edge of my seat in anticipation of the sight. What can I say? I’m a cheap thrill-seeker.
“Is that green I’m beginning to see?” someone asked.
“No, it’s too early yet,” my father replied. “It will still take several minutes for the dye to make it to the falls.”
The dignitaries slipped back into silence, watching the river for some change. I spotted Gordon patrolling the crowd. The people he passed giggled behind his back at his green hair. What a buffoon.
Though my first attempt had been less than successful, I still felt the need to draw the Irish mayor into some form of conversation.
“Are you looking forward to the Saint Patrick’s Day party tonight, Mayor Gilhoolie?”
“I’m looking forward to the Guinness,” he replied. “I can’t say I’m fond of corned beef though. The cabbage makes me windy.”
The man was obsessed with his
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