LITMIR.BIZ

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on the left. More people had gathered in front of the platform, anticipating an announcement. Collin Hode and Councilman Pottinger remained where they were.

      “Hode as in Hode Development?” Maya asked.

      Ivy nodded. “The one and only heir of Leland and Althea—or those of the gated estate.” She jutted her chin to indicate the mansion on the opposite shore. “Leland isn’t exactly King Kindness around here, and Althea’s as haughty as they come. When she married Leland, she had the name of the Hode estate changed to Amethyst Hall after her birthstone.” Ivy’s nose crinkled in distaste. “Before that it was Charlotte’s Manor, named for the Hode family ancestor who was the first victim of the Fiend. At least, that’s the legend.”

      Maya knew less about the Hodes than she did about the Fiend, despite renting her townhouse through their development company. “Didn’t you say Graham did the interior painting on my brownstone? Does that mean his dad’s company is connected to Hode Development?”

      “More or less. Kingston Kontracting won the Hode bid a few weeks ago. Leland fired his last paint contractor over shoddy work and jacked-up prices.”

      “I don’t blame him.”

      “If it’s true.” Ivy’s expression said she didn’t buy the reasoning. “Len Kovack, the old contractor, has been going out of his way to accuse Leland of slander. He’s claiming the whole thing is fallout over an unpaid bill. According to him, he was shorted money on his last job and rather than own up to the mistake, Leland fired him.”

      “That’s awful.” She didn’t know who to believe.

      “May I have your attention please?” The man who appeared in charge of the fiend contest addressed the crowd from behind a wooden podium. The gathering had swelled to twice its original size, more people settling into the well-organized rows of chairs or plopping down on the grass. A young couple with a stroller paused a few feet from where Maya and Ivy stood. The baby sucked contentedly on a pacifier and a chubby-cheeked toddler clung to his father’s hand.

      “It’s great to see everyone here,” the man on the stage said. “But before we get started with the Fiend contest or any of the festivities we have planned, I’d like to introduce Mayor Rossi. She has a few words to kick off the event.”

      The crowd applauded enthusiastically as a smiling Angela Rossi took her place behind the podium. Leaning forward, she spoke directly into the microphone. “Hello. Welcome to the forty-seventh annual Fiend Festival.”

      More applause, accompanied by a chorus of loud whoops from the costumed fiends.

      “The weather is great for opening day, and even the Fiend has cooperated by keeping a low profile and not scaring the daylights out of City Council.” Some good-natured chuckles, including sheepish laughter from Gerald Pottinger. Angela Rossi turned her head, deftly flicking her hair behind her neck as she scrutinized the competitors in the fiend contest. “At least, I don’t think he’s here. Given how exceptional our contestants are this year, I could be wrong.”

      Fist pumps and more whoops from the fiends. Raucous applause and whistles from the crowd.

      “Okay, okay.” Grinning, Mayor Rossi held up a perfectly manicured hand to quiet things down. “Before I turn the mic back to Tom Charles, your emcee for the night, I want to extend my gratitude, and that of our wonderful city, to everyone who made this year’s festival possible. A special thank you goes out to our hard-working festival committee—Ken and Tara London, Mark Clayton, Meagan Stoddard, Tom Charles, and Councilman Gerald Pottinger.” She paused as she said each name, giving the committee members a chance to acknowledge with a wave and the crowd time to respond with polite applause.

      “I’m sure this year’s event is going to be our best ever as we remember the creature responsible for putting Hode’s Hill on the map. They say any town located in the tripoint of Pennsylvania, Ohio, and West Virginia is subject to unexplained occurrences, and Hode’s Hill is no exception. Whether you believe in the Fiend or not, the creature’s legend has enriched our town history from the days of horse-drawn carriages and gas lanterns. We’ve come a long way with growth and development, but not so far as to ignore the stories our grandparents, their grandparents, and even their ancestors shared through successive generations.

      “Tonight, our impartial judging panel will be selecting one of our contestants as the Hode’s Hill ultimate Fiend, but that’s only the start of the festivities. Our marvelous food vendors, artisans, and musicians have a lot more in store for you through the weekend, so don’t forget to come back tomorrow and Sunday. Finally, in closing, I’d like to acknowledge Hode Development for their role in providing funding for much of the equipment and resources you see here. Each year, Leland, Althea, and Collin Hode go out of their way to make these festivals possible, donating assets and time. We may be celebrating the Fiend, but let’s not forget it was Vernon Hode who founded this town. I, for one, am grateful that his mark, and that of his family, remains to this day.”

      The mayor’s closing statement elicited a civil round of applause, not nearly as boisterous as those that preceded it. Maya looked to Collin Hode for his reaction, but his expression appeared neutral. His attention was on the mayor, not the crowd.

      “Why aren’t Leland and Althea here?” Maya asked.

      “Assets from the Pin Oaks Senior Center!” A man’s voice erupted from the crowd, cutting off any reply.

      “That’s why.” Ivy sighed and pointed to the heckler who moved to the front of the stage, just below the podium.

      Dressed in ratty jeans and a Grateful Dead T-shirt, he looked like a throwback to the 1960s, with unkempt black hair and a backpack slung over his shoulder. “Hode Development is going to build condos on the bones of my dead grandmother. Why not talk about those assets, Madam Mayor?”

      Maya flinched at the acid in his voice.

      “That’s Dante DeLuca,” Ivy said with distaste. “I’m ashamed to admit I went to school with him. Graham did, too.”

      Angela Rossi stiffened. “Mr. DeLuca, this is neither the time nor the place.”

      Maya noticed a police officer edging up to where DeLuca stood.

      The man turned a murderous glare on Collin Hode. “Why isn’t your father here, Hode? Is he too ashamed to admit he’s willing to sacrifice our town’s elderly on the altar of money? Leland Hode sold his ethics and his soul the day he announced plans to tear down Pin Oaks.”

      “That’s enough.” The officer’s voice carried as he hooked DeLuca under the arm. “Time to move along.” He only managed to hustle Dante a few feet from the throng before DeLuca wrenched his arm free.

      Casting a black glare over his shoulder, he muttered something unintelligible, then took off down the riverbank.

      Through it all, Collin Hode said nothing.

      Maya tuned out the mayor, who was attempting to cover up the incident with light chatter. The effort wasn’t necessary as no one seemed too upset. The couple with the stroller moved closer to the stage, their little boy ambling ahead as if desiring a better view. Seated on a blanket, two teen girls pecked at their cell phones. Another checked her makeup in a compact mirror. A group of boys popped M&Ms in the air, trying to catch them in their mouths, and an older couple shared a laugh over a plate of French fries. Tom Charles moved back to the mic, and the mayor descended the steps to speak privately with Collin Hode.

      Maya glanced down the street where it paralleled the riverbank. Dante DeLuca had crossed at an intersection headed toward Second, the connector. “What did I just witness?”

      Before Ivy could answer, Graham jogged over, balancing a sloppy joe on a paper plate. Apparently, he’d found Brook. “What just happened?”

      “You didn’t see?” Ivy made a pffing sound. “Dante DeLuca being an ass is what happened.”

      “That guy doesn’t give up, does he?” Graham licked barbeque sauce from his fingers.

      Maya

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