“You hated that climb,” Rosie said.
“And the jump into the river after,” Cam added.
“That’s why this is better,” Henry said.
Rosie and Cam exchanged a look. Henry couldn’t be serious. It reminded Rosie of when they’d convinced each other there were jewels in one of the streams near their street. All they’d found was a lot of shiny rocks, but they were sure they would become zillionaires. They had spent hours splashing each other and shouting every time one of them found a particularly sparkly specimen. That time was fun, but they were old enough to know they weren’t going to find a real treasure in Glimmer Creek.
“I think it’s a long shot. Like, a really big long shot,” Cam said, but not in a mean voice.
Henry’s face fell. “You’re probably right. It was a dumb idea.”
Rosie bit her lip. “It wasn’t dumb.”
“Only unrealistic,” Cam said.
“It’s okay,” Henry said, thrusting his hands into his pockets.
The three of them headed out of River Bend Park. Cam was talking about the movie they were going to see on Friday, and Henry was nodding his head, seeming interested. He looked back at the tarp one final time.
Maybe it was the fading light of the October sun or maybe it was the dappled shadows from the trees, but for a single instant Henry looked exactly like Indiana Jones reaching for the Holy Grail; he looked like he would do anything to solve the mystery of Lonnie Garrett. Rosie couldn’t help but wonder if this was really the last they’d hear about the train treasure.
CHAPTER FIVE
Rosie waved good-bye to Cam and Henry, who were heading toward Willow Lane, and stopped in at Sook Diner to pick up crab cake sandwiches for supper. Sook Diner was almost empty at this time of the afternoon. The black-and-white-checkered floor was spotless, the red vinyl booths were polished up, and the Blue brothers sat at the counter, since they took the early-bird special seriously and started their supper in the four thirty time frame.
Rosie ordered the sandwiches. Miss Matilda said it would take a few extra minutes, but she offered to throw in a couple of her Miracle cookies. Miss Matilda baked her sugar cookies every day in the shapes of different Miracles. There was a fish for the first Miracle, a music note for Miss Lily, a boat for the Blues brothers, and a mailbag for Mr. Waverman.
Charlie Blue peered down at the menu. “How much sugar is in the limeades?”
“The right amount,” Miss Matilda said, scrubbing at the counter harder than seemed necessary.
Charlie pursed his lips. “Now, do you make the barbecue with vinegar or brown sugar?”
“Charlie, you eat here every day. You know how I make my barbecue,” Miss Matilda snapped.
“I’m only asking a question,” Charlie said. “Seems as though you don’t want my business.”
“I don’t,” Miss Matilda said.
“Well, I’m not leaving,” Charlie said. “It’s gonna rain in the next hour.”
Rosie spotted Mayor Grant and his wife in a booth midway down the row. She slowed when Mayor Grant and Mrs. Grant’s voices got louder. They were in the middle of a serious talk. It wasn’t right to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help being curious after the skeleton. She slid into the booth behind them.
Mayor Grant sighed behind her. “The timing couldn’t be worse.”
“Honey, you’re getting all riled up for nothing,” Mrs. Grant said.
“I’ve already got twenty messages from concerned citizens asking about the murder investigation, wanting to know if I’m going to enforce a curfew at night, and questioning what I’m doing to solve our crime problem. Glimmer Creek does not have a crime problem. For hollering out loud, this isn’t even a real criminal investigation,” Mayor Grant said, sounding as if he were about to burst through the buttons on his shirt.
“Didn’t you say the sheriff thinks the dead man was shot?” Mrs. Grant asked.
Rosie leaned further back toward Mayor Grant, straining to hear every word.
“That skeleton is a hundred years old,” Mayor Grant said. “Sheriff Parker said Lonnie was most likely shot by the FBI during the failed robbery. Now the Gazette will be chock-full of a murder investigation instead of the festival, with folks running around, pitching a hissy fit, and digging up half the town for some gosh-darn treasure.
“Some of the people who e-mailed me said they don’t feel safe in River Bend Park anymore. What if they don’t come to the festival? The Miracles are part of our town heritage, and I spend all year planning the festival to celebrate them. With this being my last one, it just has to be perfect! I need to come up with a way to make it even bigger, even better, so people forget about this skeleton and I don’t end my tenure as mayor with a failed festival.” He sighed again. “I need a milkshake.”
Suddenly, Rosie sat straight up. The most brilliant, most amazing, most perfect plan popped into her head. It was a plan that would get her father to Glimmer Creek and solve Mayor Grant’s problem all at the same time.
Rosie leapt out of the booth. “Hi, Mayor, Mrs. Grant.”
Mayor Grant cradled his bald head in his hands, but Mrs. Grant smiled at Rosie.
“How are you, Rosie?” Mrs. Grant asked.
“I’m fine, ma’am,” Rosie said. “But I couldn’t help overhearing Mayor Grant, and it just so happens I have an idea to help.”
“We’d love to hear it,” Mrs. Grant said. “Wouldn’t we, Harold?”
“Huh?” Mayor Grant said, looking up, his eyes bleary.
“What if I film a documentary about the Miracles and premiere it at the festival?” Rosie asked.
Mrs. Grant looked confused, and Mayor Grant looked miserable.
“What does a documentary have to do with helping the festival?” Mayor Grant asked.
“Don’t you see? It will get people excited about the Miracles, which are what the festival is all about,” Rosie said.
Mayor Grant started shaking his head and opened his mouth to respond.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Rosie said, holding out her hands to stop him. “I don’t have the experience. I’ve never filmed a documentary before. That is true, but I have made at least twenty other films, and some of them have more than five hundred views on YouTube.” She paused to let this sink in. “Mayor Grant, that’s a lot of views, and they weren’t all just me rewatching.”
“I’ll admit I really enjoyed your movie about the junior detective finding the cat,” Mayor Grant said.
“That was a good one,” Mrs. Grant agreed. “What was it called again?”
“Creek Confidential,” Rosie said. “That was my first attempt at the police procedural genre. I watched The Big Sleep and Chinatown to prepare for that. They’re also about private investigators solving crimes. It goes to show you I can learn how to make different types of films, like documentaries.”
“Unfortunately,” Mayor Grant said, shaking his head, “and I mean no offense here, Rosie, but I don’t think a student film is going to solve my public relations problem. Besides, how would we premiere the movie without a movie theater?” Mayor Grant looked past Rosie’s shoulder. “Where is Miss Matilda? I’m starving.”