Something Fishy Read Online Free

off the land. She’d had complaints from both newcomers – Newton Fanshaw in the dome and Anton Paradis in one of the new cottages – about the kids trespassing and running free all over their property.
    The parents and grandparents were upset that Jamieson had warned the children off – and that folks from away had asked her to do it. It was the traditional village playground. Their mothers preferred them playing there, rather than the shore, because they could see them and there was no fear of drowning.
    Fall off the cliff, though, maybe, thought Jamieson. Especially after last winter. Storm waves had carved a slice off the end of Vanishing Point from beneath. From a side view, a few feet of land at the edge of the cape looked like a claw, or a beak, ready to attack. It had been shoved upwards into a striking pose. It would take only a push…
    It could crumble off anytime, but that didn’t seem to bother the parents as much as the denial of their traditional rights to use the land, to pick the wild strawberries. That was going to be the next battle. A year ago, as a newcomer, Jamieson wouldn’t have understood what the fuss over the wild strawberries was all about. Now she did, but it didn’t help. She couldn’t defend the villagers on this one. Tradition didn’t make something legal.
    Private property was private property and Jamieson had great respect for it, never having owned anything herself – not even the clothes on her back. She was almost always in uniform.
    She thought about what she’d bought last month, squirreled away in a closet, looking out of place next to the rest of her clothes. They all looked like they belonged to a uniform. Except that one. She smiled when she thought of it.
    She was soon frowning when she got out of her vehicle, shooing the children away as she advanced on them.
    â€œGet. Get off. Out of here,” she yelled, noticing that the tiny four-year-old blonde, who she believed was a Dewey, was frozen to the spot, as usual when Jamieson descended on the kids. She was unmoving, big deer eyes, round and brown, unusual in a blonde. She was scared of the Mountie.
    In one hand, she held a fish.
    In the other hand – a fish.
    Jamieson realized they were all holding or scooping up fish and dropping them into garbage bags. Some of the larger children were dragging the bags to Anton Paradis’ winged cottage.
    Jamieson grabbed the sleeve of a boy, about twelve. Big brown eyes. The Dewey eyes.
    â€œWhat’s going on here?”
    The boy jerked his head in the direction of Anton’s.
    â€œHe’s paying us by the fish for bringing them in.”
    Jamieson let go of his sleeve.
    â€œYes, well, we’ll see about that.”
    She marched down to Anton’s and rapped on the door briskly. When confronted, Anton confirmed he was paying the children to clean up the cape.
    â€œCall it a gesture to the community.”
    There was more to it than that, Jamieson was sure, peering shrewdly into his eyes.
    But what?
    â€œIt’s sending out a mixed message.”
    He looked puzzled.
    â€œOne minute you want them off the cape, the next minute you’re paying them to tramp all over it.”
    He shrugged. “I think anyone – even a child – would know this was an exception.”
    â€œI hope so. It’s certainly not making my job any easier.”
    Jamieson returned to the cape. The children, in awe of her authority, had stopped picking up fish. She nodded to the eldest boy.
    â€œOkay. Go on. But this is a one-off.”
    â€œOne-off? What does that mean?”
    â€œIt means that after this one time, you’re off the cape.”
    â€œWhat about there, in the middle? Do we clear that?”
    Jamieson surveyed the strip of land between the dome and Anton’s, a red scar where Jim MacAdam’s beige bungalow had been.
    Why shouldn’t Paradis pay for the lot?
    â€œAll of it. Yes, clear all of it.