My phone rang.
“Dalton?” Leeanne said.
I knew why she was calling and I was glad of the interruption.
“It’s here!” she said.
“Great! I’ll be right over,” I said.
8 Minutes to Sunday, Episode One
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“Mayor, you got this, right?” I said.
“Uh, sure,” he said.
“Come on, you guys are really good at this decorating stuff, right?” I said.
“You guys? By that you mean mayors, or hardware store owners, because I know you did not just go there,” he said.
Other than the odd mom trying to convert him to the other team, he loved it. He’d been begging the mayor to let him take over for years. He’d told me so himself. At least a dozen times. He’d been mapping it out for weeks. In fact, the chaos was highly organized. I had no doubt that two hours from now, they’d be ready for the tree lighting ceremony.
“Okay, I’ll be back in two hours to go over everything, okay?” I said.
He gave me two thumbs up.
I climbed into my truck and pulled out from the curb. It was only about six blocks to the little cottage Leeanne and I had been living in for about two months. It had most recently belonged to Annabelle Murphy, a local legend. She’d passed away at 87. Just before the Gator feeding incident. She had left the place to Leeanne in her will.
When I pulled up, Dalton John -DJ for short-, Leeanne’s two- year-old son was sitting on the front step. The front door was open. The Oklahoma winter had been unseasonably warm.
“Ugg,” DJ said. “Mom driving me crazy.”
I picked him up and we went inside. The living room floor was a blizzard of tissue paper and sparkles. In addition to the Christmas wrapping she’d been working on, Leeanne was collecting samples for a wedding. She’d gotten a catalog from a dress company she’d been waiting two weeks for that afternoon.
“Hey, what do you think of this one?” she asked.
She showed me a page with a blonde, in a white dress. They all looked the same to me. Exactly. The. Same. Maybe it was just being a guy, but I blamed it on my memory loss.
“It’ll look gorgeous on you,” I said.
She smiled. “You’re sweet,” she said. “But that’s what you said when I showed you a pair of coveralls I was thinking of buying you for Christmas too. You’re absolutely no help!”
“You should ask Ryan,” I said.
Ryan was Fred’s new, younger boy friend. He worked the counter at the hardware store when ‘mayoring’ called Fred away. He’d been helping with the plans.
“Well, I guess I have to,” she said. “Too bad I can’t just marry a gay guy for the important stuff and keep you around for the fun stuff.”
She stood and kissed me.
“So where is it?” I asked.
I was asking about the 30-foot inflatable Santa. We’d ordered it off of Amazon.
“In the garage,” she said.
It was a surprise for the town square decorations. Everyone had been a little down since the mayor’s funeral. It hadn’t helped that the FBI had torn apart every piece of real estate mayor Doris Skinner had owned. That was half the town.
They were looking for clues to the money laundering operation.
The search had lasted for weeks. They’d started at ‘The Farm’ a notorious private prison Skinner had turned into a cage fighter training camp. They were looking for the funds Skinner’s gang had taken from their illegal gambling operation.
I carried DJ to the garage and opened the door. There in the floor was a huge carton. A picture of Santa filled the front of the box.
“Santa,” DJ said.
He was pretty verbally advanced for his age, according to the doctor. We’d had him for three months now. Leeanne hadn’t know about her son for two years. He’d been stolen from her at birth and sent to an adoptive family in Kansas City. Then the mayor, his grandmother, had had him kidnapped and brought here. Right before Leeanne had been forced to kill her in a cage fight, and the gators had done the rest. It’s just as messed up as it sounds.
DJ was a happy kid. I set him down. Leeanne came out onto the driveway.
“How tall is 30 feet?” she asked. “Is it as tall as the church?”
“No, not quite, “ I said.
I grabbed a dolly from the corner of the garage and slid it under the box. I rolled it over to the truck.
“Give me a hand,” I said. “It’s not that heavy, but it’s awkward.”
I lowered the tailgate and we slid it in. If I’d had a crystal ball, that box would have never left the driveway, but sometimes, it’s best not to know.
As Promised, Mystery of Dalton West Trivia!
1.I'll ask three questions. You may not find them in today's episode, but they are in the Dalton West series, somewhere on my blog! (hint, I posted all 49 episodes of the first book yesterday!)
2. You find the answers, upvote this post, make sure you follow me, then add your answers in the comments!
3. I'll choose one lucky player, with all three correct answers, and an upvote on the post, to win 25% of tomorrow's 8 Minutes to Sunday post on payout, paid directly to your wallet, via Steemplus!
Former Dalton West posts have earned over $100 SBD! So, prizes could be substantial!
Want more entries? Earn up to three, by resteeming the post for one, and tagging a friend for one! Correct answers are required to enter the drawing! GOOD LUCK!
Question number one!
Where did Dalton West grow up?
Question number two!
What color and make is Dalton's truck?
Question number three!
Who was the first person Dalton spoke to in River Grove?
Enter your answers in the comments here to be entered to win!
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