To see previous editions, go here.

“You wanted to see me?”  Clementine Jane plopped down in the cracked leather chair, the black notebook digging uncomfortably into her left butt cheek.

Mayor Watson flashed a set of shiny white teeth.  Those white teeth had won him dozens of elections–city councilman, mayor pro-temp, mayor for years…and now they were going to help him land his new prize: the senate.  But first, he had to re-pay an old debt.

Owing a debt to Norman was scarier than selling your soul to the devil.

The fluorescent light flashed off his oiled black hair, almost as bright as the glare off his veneers.  “Clementine Jane, I’ve been meaning to get you down here for some time.”  The smile drilled tighter into his cheeks.  “I just adore your articles.”

Clementine Jane raised an eyebrow.  “Is that why you never give me any quotes or return my phone calls?”

Mayor Watson forced a laugh.  “Now, Clementine Jane I’m a busy man.  I don’t talk to any reporters.”

“You talk to Ned.”

“He’s an editor now, isn’t he?”  Mayor Watson scraped his sweaty palms against his expensive polished desk.  “Clementine Jane, it’s come to my attention that you’re covering the story of your mother and father running for my office.”

“There’s no law against it.”  Clementine Jane shifted, wishing she could move the book without notice.

Mayor Watson chuckled.  “Of course not.  But every good journalist knows what a real campaign is about, right?”

“The issues?”  Clementine Jane blinked, shifting again and grimacing.

This time Mayor Watson laughed for real.  “Oh my dear.  How naive.  How charming.  Just like your dear mother.”  The teeth closed with an audible snap.

Clementine Jane leaned forward.  “You know my mother?”

“Everyone knows your mother,” Mayor Watson growled.  “I’ve had the…pleasure of knowing her since high school.”

Clementine Jane’s eyes narrowed.  “This is about the poker games, isn’t it?”

“Why, Clementine Jane, you must be psychic!”  Mayor Watson leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially.  “Of course, I would have never brought this up if I didn’t think it was important to the campaign.  Justice and all.  The truth is for the public to decide, isn’t it?”

“You’ve never had that opinion before.”  Clementine Jane grit her teeth.  “Mayor Watson, to be frank, I’m tired of dancing around the issue.  I’ve got all sorts of wild goose chases and random people jumping out of the woodwork.  Unless I get some real evidence against my mother, I’m beginning to think this is a conspiracy.”

“Just like your mother.  Every little bit.”  Shaking his head, Mayor Watson leaned back and reached into his desk.  Pulling out a folder, he opened it and slapped it in front of Clementine Jane.

“Congratulations.  Here’s your Pulitzer winning piece.”

—————————————————————-

“This is so typical,” Adelaide grumbled, rolling her eyes. “Totally small town.  The mayor hates the mayoral candidate, the sheriff is his lackey who also hates the mayoral candidate…it’s like a bad mystery…”

“She went to see the mayor?” Grayson’s eyebrows shot up and he nearly dropped the cellphone.  “Ned, are you serious?  What’s she doing with the mayor?  He called her?  Emergency meeting?  Big scoop?  No, no.  Don’t tell her.  I’ll go to her.”  Hanging up the phone, his face twisted into a grimace.  “We’ve got to go.  Now.”  Grabbing Dallas’ keys from her hot pink purse, he rushed out the door.

“Wait!” Dallas cried, staring mournfully at the untouched pie.  “What’s going on?”

“Clementine Jane is with the mayor,” Grayson shouted, running down the porch stairs.  “He called demanding to talk to her.  Some sort of big scoop.”

Dallas Jean whirled around, her eyes wide.  “You don’t think…”

“I do.”  Adelaide shook her head.  “Damn Norman.”

Leaving the pie untouched, Dallas Jean raced out the door.  Miss Maisie watched as the door slammed behind her and heard the Cadillac engine roar.  Suddenly Dallas Jean flew back inside.  She grabbed a to-go box off of the counter and shoved the rest of the coconut cream pie, both her and Grayson’s, into the box.

“For energy,” she explained, grinning at Miss Maisie’s stunned expression.  Shoving the rest of Adelaide’s pie in her mouth in one giant bite, she raced back out the door screaming a muffled, “Wait for me!”

—————–

Stretching, Beau threw down his history book and blinked his eyes.  He looked at the clock.  8:30 p.m.  His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten in hours.

Moseying down the dark hallway of his house, he glanced around.  “Mom?  Dad?”  No one answered.  The kitchen lights were off and only the side table was turned on in the living room.  “Clementine Jane?”

The only response was the gentle whirl of the air conditioning.

Shrugging, Beau hopped off the stairs and strolled to the kitchen.  Peeking in the fridge, he made a face.  Only cinnamon rolls and pie. And a whole tub of cream cheese icing.

Checking the cabinets and the pantry, he wrinkled his nose in disgust.  Crackers, cheese whip, cookies, and chips…it was a junk food lover’s paradise.

His mother’s paradise.

“Someone in this family needs to learn nutrition,” he muttered.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him that it needed more than to learn about nutrition, but to digest some.  Glancing at the clock, he sighed.

“I guess I’ll go to the deli and pick something up.”  Pulling the keys off the hook, he glanced in the garage.  His mother’s car was blocked by Clementine Jane’s.  Beau grinned.  He loved driving his sister’s car.  There was something so fun about it–probably her expression when she found out.

Locking the front door, he flipped on the porch light and crossed the driveway.  Unlocking the door, he climbed inside.

From the bushes, a pair of worried eyes watched.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  We have more whimsy coming!

More