Clobbered by Camembert by Avery Aames

around six. She had these shopping bags, and—”
    “Wait a second,” I cut in. “Sylvie said Kaitlyn left for Ipo’s house after she’d had a facial at Under Wraps.”
    “Since when does Sylvie do facials?” Jordan asked.
    “She doesn’t do them. She hired a woman.” I fluttered a hand. “That’s not the point.” I zeroed in on Oscar. “You’re lying. Kaitlyn didn’t go to Timothy O’Shea’s Irish Pub.”
    “Yes, she did,” Oscar blurted. “I was at the bar. She was talking to Tim, himself. She said she wanted to meet with Ipo. Tim was the one who told her Ipo was on his way to Rebecca’s. Kaitlyn asked Tim for directions. I hung out for about fifteen minutes, then set out after her. When I got to the cottage, there were shadows moving about inside. I figured I’d talk to her when she came out, so’s I took a walk to that park for kids, the one with the climbing rocks and tunnels.”
    Cherry Orchard Park, near my grandparents’ house, not far from Rebecca’s.
    I said, “It was dark. Why did you go there?”
    “I told you. I took a walk. To clear my head. I didn’t intend to play there. Sheesh.” Oscar folded his arms across his chest.
    “Why should I believe you?”
    “I heard giggles. Lots of giggles.”
    My body began to vibrate with hope. I grasped Jordan’s hands. “He heard Rebecca and Ipo. He corroborated their alibis.” I did a victory dance. “I’ve got to tell Urso.” I stood on tiptoe, kissed Jordan’s cheek, and sprinted south.

CHAPTER

    “You what?” Urso stood on the stoop of Rebecca’s cottage and glowered at me. His broad-brimmed hat cast a shadow over his face and made his eyes look especially ominous. “I can’t believe you sometimes.”
    Rebecca and Ipo stood at the Dutch door, the top half open once again. Light haloed their heads as they strained to hear our conversation. The crowd had dispersed.
    “You are going to be the death of me, Charlotte Bessette,” Urso said, sounding like an old coot. “What were you thinking, chasing after him?”
    “Can’t you get past that?” I said. “He corroborated that Rebecca and Ipo were in the park.”
    “They told me they were outside. I assumed the yard.”
    Rebecca shouted, “Outside in the park. You never let me finish, Chief.”
    Urso cut a steely look at her and then an even steelier one at me. “I’ll question Oscar Carson, and we’ll see what he says when he’s not under duress.”
    “Oh, yeah, like I could influence him,” I said, knowing I had. I had held him in place with my toe. Having Jordan looming beside me hadn’t hurt, either.
    Rebecca applauded.
    “Hush, Miss Zook.” Urso eyed me. “Did you at least leave him in one piece?”
    “He’s willing and able. No bruises.”
    “Where will I find him?”
    I bit back a smile of triumph. “I imagine he went home.”
    “You didn’t bind him up?”
    “I’m not that dastardly.”
    A twinkle crept into Urso’s gaze. He quickly erased it and whirled around on Rebecca and Ipo. “You two stay put, you hear? Not a peep to reporters or to townsfolk. I’ll return.”
    “Do either of them need a lawyer?” I asked.
    Urso stabbed a finger at me. I threw my hands up in mock-defense. He didn’t say a word and marched away.
    * * *
    The next morning started with a bang. Literally. Even though I heard something akin to a poltergeist in my kitchen, I dared to enter. I found Amy raging from cupboard to cupboard, slamming indiscriminately while muttering, “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
    Sometimes she was so like my grandmother it was scary. Negative energy zinged out of her.
    Our poor Briard pup, his eyes as wide as saucers, scooted beneath the kitchen dining table and sought shelter by Clair’s legs. Rags, who was used to Amy’s occasional outbursts, nestled into his rattan bed and placed a paw over his exposed ear.
    I glanced at Clair, who was working on a needlepoint project for art class, and said, “What’s wrong with your sister?”
    Clair