When they exited Domingo’s restaurant two hours later, Boomer groaned. “I ate too much. How about you, Cady?”

“I am stuffed. I think I ate four slices of garlic bread. Big slices.”

“How would you like to walk it off? Listen, I have an idea. St. Joseph’s is having their annual spring carnival. Rides, food, games of chance, that kind of thing. It’s a bit of a hike since it’s across town, but I’m up for it if you are.”

“Let’s do it,” Cady said happily. She linked her arm with Boomer’s. “Are you going to win a prize for me?”

“You mean one of those ricky-ticky plastic dolls?”

“Nope. I mean the big Kahuna. The giant teddy bear that seems to come with all carnivals. The one that nobody ever wins. They don’t win because the games are always fixed. You being the police chief and all should make them keep the games on the up and up. Don’t you have a badge you can pin on or something?”

Boomer grimaced. “Or something.”

Cady’s hand on Boomer’s arm slipped down until they were holding hands. They walked along, their arms swinging, laughing and talking about everything and nothing.

“You’re kind of dressed up for this, but how do you feel about entering the three-legged race? Father Cyril has it scheduled for nine-thirty. If you’re up to it, we’re going to have to run to make it. It’s twenty bucks to enter. I think you’re worth twenty bucks, Cady Jordan.”

“You do, huh?” Cady slipped off her sandals, hiked her skirt up, and took off flying down the tree-shaded street. Boomer, even though he was in good shape, had just eaten, causing him to huff and puff his way after her. He caught up to her just as she entered the gate leading to the back end of the parish, where the carnival was in full swing.

“Hurry up,” Boomer gasped. “They’re lining up. This race is the highlight of the carnival. It brings in the most money because everyone enters. Quick, grab a rope and tie us together.”

“If we win, what’s the prize? I love prizes.”

“I don’t have a clue, Cady. You get your picture in the paper. Maybe you get to eat for free for the rest of the evening. One of the guys at the station told me yesterday that they gave away a phony silver dollar that said WINNER on it last year. It’s a half-mile race, all around the rectory. Line up, line up!” Cady grinned at the exuberance in Boomer’s voice. She felt excited herself. “Sam McInerney fires off his old musket at the starting line. He renewed his permit for it yesterday. He’s also the judge.”

“What’s our strategy?” Cady asked, sticking her leg into the sack next to Boomer’s.

“Huh?”

“How are we going to win this race? Do we start off slow, save our strenth for the end sprint? Do we just burst out full speed ahead or what?”