The Final Reveille: A Living History Museum Mystery Page 10

  “That’s what I would like to believe.”

  “It must be a reenactor then,” she said with more conviction than typical.

  “That would be my preference.” As long as it wasn’t Chase, I mentally added. For some reason, I wanted the EMT to be innocent. I didn’t dare search my feelings to guess why, and I wouldn’t dare mention that to Laura. She would never let me hear the end of it.

  fifteen

  Between Judy at the ticket counter and Ashland in the field, I didn’t have anything to worry about where the reenactment and Farm staff were concerned. The reduced ticket rate appeared to appease visitors that the village was closed, and Ashland reassigned the village staff who’d elected to come into work throughout the Farm.

  I considered joining Hayden, Dad, and Krissie in their tour through the encampments, but something nagged me. Wesley Mayes, the spurned ex-boyfriend of Maxwell’s fiancée, was accused of stealing something from another reenactor two times in as many days.

  I went in search of the Union reenactor.

  The Union camp was on a half-acre of land and had only been on the Farm for two days, but as I walked through it, it seemed like the reenactors had been there for weeks, just like they would be in the middle of a siege. The high-ranking officers had tables and chairs set outside their tents with maps spread out that described the terrain. The privates sat on the ground on fallen logs they dragged to the camp from the maple grove, or on their folded jackets. They swatted at flies that buzzed through their camps as they chewed on raw coffee beans. Others sipped coffee from tin cups. The liquid was so black, it was a wonder it didn’t burn holes in their stomachs.

  I went up to one of privates. “Good morning.”

  He picked a piece of coffee ground out of his teeth. “How do you do, ma’am? How can I help you?”

  “Fine. I’m looking for Wesley Mayes’s tent.”

  “Ol’ Wesley.” He pointed behind him. “Over there yonder.”

  I glanced at the dirty white tent he pointed out. Many of the reenactors purposely dirtied the exterior of their tents in order to make it more realistic to the time. In 1863, a private could go a very long time between baths. The smell must have been suffocating. Some of the reenactors followed suit and didn’t bathe during the reenactments. I hoped I didn’t have any reenactors like that on the Farm property. I didn’t want to scare any visitors away with the smell.

  Thanking the private, I headed to Wesley’s tent. A lady reenactor and two children, also in nineteenth-century dress, stood outside the tent beside Wesley’s. The children were making cornhusk dolls. I smiled at them.

  “Wesley?” I called. There was no answer, so I peeked inside. Wesley lay on the mat on the ground he used for his bed, and Krissie Pumpernickle sat cross-legged on the grassy floor beside him. They weren’t touching, but it was clear the two were deep in a private moment.

  I gasped and walked backward. When I reemerged from the tent, I found the woman and children from the neighboring tent staring at me.

  Krissie popped out of the tent. “Kelsey, this is not what it looks like.”

  I folded my arms. “What does it look like?”

  She smoothed back her bangs as Wesley walked out of the tent. She didn’t answer.

  “What are you doing in his tent?” I asked my voice was sharper than I’d intended.

  “Oh!” Krissie blushed. “I was just saying hi to Wesley. We used to go to school together.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Where’s Hayden?”

  Krissie’s blush deepened. “He’s with your dad. I wouldn’t leave him alone.” My face must have shown my disbelief because she said, “Really, I wouldn’t. And I hope, Kelsey, that you aren’t getting the wrong idea.”

  “Why would I get a wrong idea?”

  “Eddie doesn’t need—”

  I held up my hand. “I have no desire to say anything to Eddie. Whatever relationship the two of you have is none of my business.” I paused. “Unless it affects Hayden, then you had better believe I will make it my business.”

  Her red face began to fade. “Thank you, Kelsey. You don’t know how much that means to me. We would never do anything that would hurt Hayden.”

  “I hope that’s true.” Before she could protest, I pointed to each of them. “You two went to school together.”

  Krissie nodded. “That’s right. College. I haven’t seen Wesley in years. He and Portia are a couple of years older than me and already graduated. It certainly was a shock to see him dressed up like a Civil War hero.”

  Great, she wasn’t even out of college yet.

  “I ran into her and invited her into my tent to talk,” Wesley said. “That was all. We couldn’t reminisce about school in front of the other visitors; I can’t drop character in front of them. The tent was the only place we could speak freely.”

  I wasn’t sure I was buying their story, but it would have to do for now. I had other pressing business to talk to Wesley about. “I’d like a moment with Wesley,” I said.

  “All right,” Krissie murmured, but she didn’t move.

  “I want to talk to Wesley alone, Krissie.”

  “Oh! Right, I’m sorry.” Her face flushed again. She gave Wesley a side hug. “It was nice to see you again, Wes. We’ll have to pick a time to catch up a bit more.”

  He smiled. “We will. And thank you.” He turned to me. “We can talk in my tent.”

  I ducked back into the tent. “You seem to entertain a lot of ladies in here.”

  He sat on a camp stool. “Not really. You and Krissie are the only ones who have been inside here. What do you need to talk to me about? Is something wrong?”

  Was something wrong? What a ridiculous question when a dead body was discovered on the other side of Maple Grove Lane. I held back any sarcasm.

  “The police said that they told you about Maxwell’s death.”

  “I heard about it. I don’t know what it has to do with me.”

  “He was about to marry your ex-girlfriend.”

  He shrugged. “So what. I’m over that.”

  “You didn’t seem over it yesterday in the village.”

  He stiffened. “I had been blindsided. I knew nothing about the engagement then.”

  This was sounding a little too similar to my own situation for comfort. “What did you do after you saw Maxwell and Portia together?”

  “I came back to my tent and got drunk. It made me feel better.”

  I frowned. “There isn’t supposed to be any alcohol on Farm grounds. I could kick you off of the property for drinking.”

  He laughed as if I were joking. I wasn’t but didn’t see it worth the time to go over the Farm rules. Besides, if I kicked Wesley out of the reenactment I would never learn if he killed Maxwell or what his real connection to Krissie was.

  “What happened after you got drunk?”

  “I went to sleep. I sort of remember some of the guys helping me into my tent, but it’s fuzzy. I was wasted. I didn’t wake up until the bugler set off around five. I could have killed that guy. I had an awful hangover and a splitting headache. Have you ever heard a bugler go off when you had a headache?”

  Actually, I had, that very morning.

  He shook his head. “It was terrible.”

  “So you slept all night? You didn’t get up at all?”

  “You mean, ‘You didn’t get up in the middle of the night and kill Max’?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  He scowled. “No. I think you can go now.”

  “In a minute.” I folded my arms. “You’ve only been here two days, but there are already two instances of Confederate reenactors accusing you of stealing their possessions. Why’s that?”

  “Because they’re Rebs.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Really? That’s the best answer you have?”

  He sco
wled. “For some reason, the last couple of days, I’ve found Confederate gear in my tent. Before I can find out who it belongs to and return it to the owner, the Rebel comes stomping into my tent because he heard I took a canteen, rifle, whatever it was.” He blew on his bangs, which drooped into his eyes. “The Rebs always want to challenge me to a duel. We’re in the middle of the Civil War here, not the American Revolution.”

  “You don’t know how those items get into your tent?”

  He glared at me. “I just told you that.”

  “You didn’t take them by accident?”

  “How would I take something from the Confederate camp by accident? I’m telling you, I’m not taking this stuff. Someone is putting it in my tent.”

  “Why would someone do that?”

  “I don’t know. To play a practical joke, to get back at me.”

  “Get back at you for what?”

  He removed his forage hat and threw it on his mat. “If I knew, I’d put a stop to it.”

  “Could this be related to Maxwell’s death?”

  “I don’t see how.” He frowned as if genuinely frustrated. “I can’t say that I’m not happy that Maxwell’s dead, but I had nothing to do with his death. Do you believe me?” he asked.

  “I don’t know what to believe, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt. For now.”

  “I guess that’s all I can hope for.”

  “It’s more than you can hope for,” I corrected.

  sixteen

  At two on the dot, cannon fire exploded with a boom that shook the trees in the valley. The Confederates gave the rebel yell as they made their charge across the battlefield. I watched from the fence rail along with more than seven hundred visitors. Even though I knew it was a reenactment, the cries of the men as they fell touched me. Grown men and women in board shorts and Capri pants watched the battle with rapt attention. Children covered their eyes and peeked out between their fingers. No one spoke. A shiver ran down my spine. This is what I had wanted when I presented the idea of the Civil War reenactment to Cynthia and the board of trustees. I wanted history to come alive. I wanted visitors to be able to put themselves in the shoes of the men and women living one hundred and fifty years ago. When people remembered the past, then and only then could they learn from its mistakes.

  Then maybe something like the Civil War would never happen again. I believed a true student of history would hate war more than anyone else.

  Amidst the smoke from the rifles and cannons and the scent of gunpowder on the wind, I picked out Chase Wyatt in his medic’s uniform moving from man to man in his brigade, checking on the wounded and dead.

  The Union general called the retreat after about thirty minutes of hard fighting, and the Union men began to pull back, carrying what men they could off of the field. They’d lost this battle, but they would win the one tomorrow. With a reenactment, you could plan the outcome; it was in real war that you couldn’t.

  The visitors broke into whoops and applause. Some booed. We were in the North after all, and most of my visitors were Yankee sympathizers to the extreme. Tomorrow, when the North won, there would be great cheers, which is why I asked for the North victory to be on Saturday, when I thought we would have the most visitors.

  I pushed off from the fence.

  The chief came up to me on the path and sighed. “I hate to see my boys fighting without me, but I suppose a murder investigation should come first.”

  “I suppose,” I said.

  “The crime scene techs are finished across the street. The brick pit will have to be closed for the remainder of the week, maybe beyond that too, but you can open the village.”

  I removed my radio from my belt. “Great. We still have a few hours left. I’ll call in the staff.”

  He nodded. “You do that.” He turned to go.

  “Chief, have you found any more suspects?”

  “Something I’m not lacking for in this case is suspects. My roster is full to bursting with suspects.”

  I wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but my radio crackled. “Hey Kelsey,” Laura’s voice came over the device. “The village is open. Want me to call in the staff?”

  “I was just about to radio about that. Can you call Judy and have her do it? I’d like you to get over to the village.”

  The radio crackled again. “Will do. Ten-four.”

  I rolled my eyes. Laura loved saying ten-four. I thought the fact that I gave her a radio had gone to her head.

  I waited until Laura radioed back that she was in position and then went into the visitor center and used the PA system to announce that the village was open. I decided to continue to sell discounted tickets for the rest of the day. Until more seasonal workers took their positions, the village would not be fully opened, which meant that some the buildings would remain closed until they arrived. We couldn’t have visitors wandering around the historical artifacts unsupervised.

  I took a deep breath. Everything would be all right. Other than the murder and a scuffle, the second day of the reenactment was going well.

  Hayden ran up to me. “Mom! The battle was so cool! I want to be a soldier.”

  Tiffin ran behind him with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

  Like any mother, I shivered. That would be the last thing I would want my son to choose, but he had a lot of time to change his mind. Last week he wanted to be a minion from Despicable Me.

  Krissie smiled at me. “I called Eddie and told him that the battle was over. He’s on his way here to pick us up.”

  Hayden grabbed onto my jeans. “Mom, do I have to go? I want to stay here with you and Pop-Pop. What about the bonfire tonight? I want to roast marshmallows.”

  I winced. I had hoped that Hayden would have forgotten about the bonfire. My father’s bushy eyebrows knit together as they waited for my answer.

  “I want you to stay too, buddy, I do, but a man got really sick in the village this morning, so I think it would be better if you go with Dad tonight. You, Pop-Pop, and I will have our own bonfire next week after the reenactors are gone. Then we won’t have to share our marshmallows.”

  Hayden cocked his head and considered this. He was protective of his marshmallows. “You promise?”

  “Of course.” I hugged him.

  “Is he okay?” Hayden asked.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “The man who got sick. Is he okay? I hate being sick. I’m real sorry anyone else got sick.”

  My heart melted at my little guy’s compassion. “Ummm … they took him to the hospital,” I said, which was technically true since the morgue was inside of the hospital.

  “I hope he gets better. It’s no fun being sick. Remember when I had that cold? It was terrible. I’d hate for anyone to feel that bad.”

  Tears sprang into my eyes. I hugged my son, turning my face away from him so he would not see the tears. “You are a special little guy. Do you know that?”

  “Well, duh, you tell me that like every day.”

  “Then it must be true,” I said.

  I walked with Dad, Hayden, and Krissie through the visitor center. Now that the battle was over, many of the visitors were leaving. They spoke excitedly about the encampments. “I hope we can come next year,” I heard a girl tell her father. She had the same gleam in her eye about history that I’d had as a child. I had to keep Barton Farm open for children like her and for children who didn’t know anything about American history. They needed to hear it.

  Eddie’s luxury SUV turned into the circular drive of the visitor center. He got out. “Did you have fun today?” he asked.

  “It was great!” Hayden said. “I still don’t know why I have to leave.”

  Krissie gave me a light squeeze. I didn’t hug her in return but awkwardly patted her back. “I’m so happy that I got to meet you finally after all this time.�
��

  Yes, after all this time that I didn’t even know about. I bit my tongue.

  Eddie put Hayden’s backpack into the back seat of the SUV. Hayden gave Tiffin a hug good-bye, and Eddie lifted our son into his booster seat.

  “Eddie, you really missed a great day,” Krissie said. “I think you, Hayden, and I should come back tomorrow to see more of the action.”

  I bit my tongue from asking if she wanted to come back to reunite with her old college buddy, Wesley Mayes.

  Hayden wriggled in his seat while Eddie tried to buckle him in. “Can we? I want to come back! I won’t even ask to watch a show tonight if we can come back.”

  Eddie turned and looked at me, raising both of his eyebrows.

  “I would love it if you all came back.” I smiled. “Saturday promises to be an even more exciting day than today. There’ll be two battles: one in the morning and one in the afternoon.”

  Hayden clapped his hands. “Yes!”

  Eddie looked at his fiancée. “If that’s what you really want, honey.”

  “Definitely.” She flashed her white smile to me. “We’re all going to be part of the same family and this gives us all a chance to be together like a family.”

  “Umm, yeah,” I managed.

  My father snorted, and I elbowed him.

  “Oomph,” he mumbled.

  Eddie stepped away from the car door. I leaned inside the car and smoothed Hayden’s hair away from his brow and kissed the top of his head.

  “Can I have my backpack?” he asked.

  I reached across him and handed him the bag. He rooted around in it until he came up with his plush Spider-Man. “I had to make sure I had Spidey.”

  I patted Spider-Man on the top of his head. “I’m glad he’s safe. Be good for Dad, okay?”

  “Okay.” He pulled more toys from his bag as I shut the door. They would all be on the floor of Eddie’s SUV in a matter of minutes, and Hayden would complain that he couldn’t reach them until Eddie pulled the car over to the side of the road to pick them up. He’d hand Hayden the fallen toys just to hear them all fall to the floor minutes after he started driving again. I swallowed the lump in my throat.