Mystery at the Fair

by Connie Cockrell

  "Here ya go, Jean. Sorry it took so long. We had about two hundred more entries this year than last."

  "That's okay, Ernie. I'm just now getting to your department."

  "Don't stay too much longer, Jean. It's after ten already."

  "I won't be long, Ernie. I have to get your numbers, add everything up and I'll be done. I can turn it in to the treasurer in the morning."

  He waved as he left the building. It took her another half hour to add his numbers to her list, add it all up and double-check it. She filled out the form she needed to give the treasurer. Jean filed everything away and tucked it all under the display stand. She'd pull it out and give it to Mason Brown in the morning. The Livestock VP did the numbers for that side of the house. Everything tidied up, she stretched. Sitting in the car all day and then hunched over paperwork for an hour was doing her back no favors. After turning off the fans, she got her purse, grabbed the trash bag and made a mental note to bring more water in the morning. One more look around and she turned off the lights and locked the door. On the way to the gate, she dropped her trash in a handy trash barrel. They were already set up for the fair opening in the morning.

  Sam was at the gate. "I heard your fans go off so I came over to let you out."

  "Thanks Sam. Have a good night."

  "I will, Jean. Be careful out there."

  "I will. We appreciate you doing this for us."

  "Not a problem. I like the quiet out here."

  "Good night."

  "Night."

  He locked the gate behind her and she could hear his boots crunching away toward the livestock area. Nice guy, she thought as she approached her car. It was parked about a hundred feet away from the gate, as close as parking could get. She dug the keys out of her pocket and, fifty feet away from the car, hit the button on the remote to unlock the vehicle. The parking and brake lights flashed. In the stillness she could hear the locks disengage.

  She was tired, her back hurt from sitting in the car for hours and all she wanted was a hot shower, a glass of wine while she checked her email, and bed. She opened the back door to put her tote bag in the back seat. She took a step to the front door and was reaching out for the handle when she heard footsteps crunching on loose gravel behind her. Her heart sped up and she spun around. She had a glimpse of a man, all in black, with his hand raised. That's the last she remembered.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jean woke in a hospital bed, arm tethered to an IV, her head splitting with pain. She reached up to touch her head; her arm felt as though it had lead weights on it. She could feel a bandage, and it was sore and tender on the left side. The lights were dim and she could hear the heart monitor beeping. What she wanted more than information was a drink of water. A bed-stand stood against the wall. While she was eyeing it and wondering if she could get out of bed and get a glass of water, a nurse bustled in.

  "Ah, you're awake, good." The woman viewed the monitor and tapped a button. The beeping stopped.

  "Thanks for that," Jean croaked. "I'd be crazy in another few minutes."

  "I heard it speed up, that's how I knew you were awake." The woman fluffed up the pillows and tapped a note in the computer pad in her pocket. "I'm Becky. What can I get you?"

  "Water. My mouth feels nasty."

  The nurse bustled over to the stand, grabbed the water pitcher and a glass and disappeared into the bathroom to fill it. She stuck her head around the corner. "Do you want ice?"

  "No, not now." Jean shifted to pull the bedgown down; it had bunched up under her back.

  The nurse put the water on the table and wheeled it over to the bed. "Can you reach this?"

  Jean grabbed the glass carefully, her arms still felt like lead. "I can, thanks. Can you tell me what happened?"

  The nurse's eyebrow twitched and she reached into the pocket where she had tucked the pad. "What do you remember?"

  "I locked up the Exhibits building, said good night to Sam," she looked up at the nurse. "He's the Security Guard at the Fair. Then walked to my car. I had just put my bag in the car and was reaching for the driver door handle when I heard someone coming up behind me. I turned around and," she took a breath, "that's all I remember."

  "You don't remember anything else?"

  Jean slowly shook her head. Any rapid movement made her head hurt. "No, well, it was a man. That's it."

  "You were brought in about midnight. You have a three-inch gash in your scalp but the skull wasn't broken. You probably have a concussion. Is there anyone we can call for you?"

  "No. My son lives in LA. I can call him in the morning."

  Becky nodded. "Okay. The police are outside, they want to question you about what happened."

  "That's fine, send them in."

  "Let me know if you need anything." Becky drew the cord with the call button around the head of the bed and looped it around the rail on Jean's right. "So it doesn't slip away."

  She left the room. Jean took a deep breath and winced when the skin on her scalp stretched. Her eyes went wide when she saw Nick White step into the room. He pulled his Stetson off. "Jean."

  "Nick. We seem to be seeing a lot of each other lately."

  His step faltered. It was a moment before he recovered. "Seems so. Can you tell me what happened?"

  She shared what she had told the nurse.

  "You recognize the guy? White guy? Black guy? How tall?"

  The parking lot was dark. He was covered in black." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, wincing again. "At least I think it was black, hard to tell. He had gloves on and a ski mask, just his eyes showing. White." She opened her eyes. "He was white, a little skin showed. But it was too dark to see his eye color."

  Nick was jotting notes in a small paper notebook. "Anything else?"

  She raised her left hand to touch the bandage over the gash. "He was right-handed."

  He nodded.

  "How do you feel?"

  "Like I've been clubbed." She drank half a glass of water. "I'm thirsty, too. I don't know why the air in hospitals is always so dry."

  "It's the drugs. They make you thirsty." He eyed her. "Have you been doing anymore investigating?"

  A wash of anger swept over her. "No." Her tone was snippy. "I spent half of yesterday on the road. Then I was at the fair, as you well know. Then I tried to go home."

  He raised a hand to calm her. "I had to ask. Someone has it out for you."

  "Sorry." She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I guess I'm a little annoyed right now."

  "I can understand that." He scuffed a boot on the floor tile. "I just need you to leave it alone. Someone thinks you're investigating or know something. Leave the investigating to me. Can you take a vacation or go somewhere for a few days?"

  "No. With Arris out of the picture, I'm the one running the fair. I've got to get out of here in the morning and get back to it." She could see his jaw working in his tanned face.

  "Maybe so. Just be careful. I'll let you rest." He tipped his hat and walked out of the room.

  Jean poured herself another glass of water and drank it down. Face it, Jean. You are a little scared. This was the second attack on you. Her arms felt a little better and she fingered the wounded area on her head. She explored above and below the bandage. A sigh of disgust escaped her. I'll bet they shaved my hair off. Damn it. I'll have to wear a scarf. She let her hand fall down to the bed and she looked around the room. Now that she was aware, it seemed too light to sleep. She pushed the call button.

  After a few minutes, Becky came in. "You rang?"

  Jean smiled at the joke. "Can you turn off the lights? I'm going to try and get some sleep."

  "Good idea. Let me arrange some things." She went to the monitor and touched a few buttons. Then she checked the IV. "This should run till six, we'll be bringing meds around by then anyway. You want the table next to the bed?"

  "Yes. I can get a drink if I want."

  "Okay." She straightened it up at the side of the bed. "A
re you ready?"

  "Yeah." Jean turned on her right side and tried to get comfortable. "Thanks."

  Becky stopped at the door to check the room one more time. "Ring if you need something." She turned off the lights and closed the room door.

  Jean punched the pillow to get it comfortable under her head. What a day. Hope someone can unlock the building doors in the morning. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Nick rang the bell at the coroner's office door in the Greyson Medical Center basement. He'd had about four hours sleep and the smell of formaldehyde and cleaning chemicals was making his first cup of coffee churn in his stomach. The door buzzed open.

  The coroner's clerk smiled at him. "Morning, Chief."

  "Morning, Candy." How the hell can she be so chipper first thing in the morning? "Your boss texted me he has some results."

  "Sure thing, Chief. Go on back. He's in theater two."

  She turned back to her computer monitor and began clicking away on the keyboard. He strode along the beige, highly waxed floor tiles. The rest of the hall was sterile white. His footsteps echoed along the hall in front of him. He stopped at the door marked Theater Two and pushed open the doors.

  In front of him was the exam table. The dried corpse of Ina lay on it, draped in surgical towels. That was a bit of a relief; he didn't want to see someone he knew cut all open. The big surprise was that the body didn't smell, at least not too much. Brian Long, the coroner, was standing beside the table, peering through a magnifying glass on a long arm hovered over her body. The body cabinets were housed in another room of the morgue. This room was strictly for autopsies. Various surgical paraphernalia crowded the shelves on the walls, and the table where bodies were washed was to the right of the door. "Hey, Brian."

  The doctor looked up. "Hey there, Nick. Come on in." He adjusted the magnifying glass to position it over the corpse's head.

  Nick stood beside but just behind the doctor. "What have you got, Brian?"

  "We finished the autopsy last night. I had to bring in a specialist from the FBI office in Phoenix. I just didn't have the expertise. And your man, Paul Oliver, was the witness." He adjusted the magnifying glass once more. "Anyway, you can see here," he pointed with a stylus and stood aside a little so Nick could see, "the skull has an indentation, round, about half an inch deep. She was hit pretty hard."

  "Is that the cause of death?"

  "We couldn't determine that conclusively but that's the likely cause. There was dried blood on the skin, a lot, since it was a scalp wound, but not sufficient to bleed out. There was minimal blood in the cabinet and none in the conex."

  So Ina hadn't been killed in the cabinet or on the site. Nick had guessed as much. "I was thinking the body would smell." Nick got close enough to see what the doc was pointing at, then stepped back half a step.

  "No, the high heat of the container dried the body, so there wasn't a lot of decomp odor. I read the statement of the person who found the body. She thought it was the smell of dead mice." He looked thoughtful. "I can see where she'd think that. Like the smell of a garden shed that's been closed up for a couple of weeks." He shook himself. "Anyway, the FBI guy showed me how to get the prints from the body. A fascinating method, to be honest. You just—"

  Nick interrupted the doctor before too much information was shared. His stomach was still rolling from the smells in the morgue. "Ah, I'm sure, Brian. But what about other injuries? Drugs? Anything?"

  Brian stopped his recitation. "Yeah. So, no other injuries. Toxicology came back clean except for alcohol in the bloodstream. She wasn't drunk, though I'd guess she'd had two drinks."

  Nick was disappointed. He'd hoped there would be something to go on. "What about the head injury. Any idea what caused it?"

  "The FBI guy and I talked about that." The doctor pushed the magnifying glass up and stripped off his gloves. "Our guess is that some sort of ball-peen hammer was used. A small one, ball about an inch in diameter."

  Nick scratched his cheek. Those kinds of hammers were used for metal-working. Maybe the thing a ranch hand might need on occasion. "Uh, thanks, Doc." The two men shook hands. "That's helpful."

  Nick left the morgue and walked to his car. He had some things to, do but then he had an interview to conduct.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  After the six am IV-bag change, Jean took a chance and got up to use the bathroom. She was tired. Even with the door to her room closed, noises from other patients calling out, room doors closing, and nurses' voices echoing up and down the hall had jerked her awake every time she'd fallen asleep.

  She managed to guide the IV stand to the bathroom without tripping over the hose. It was helpful, actually, as she could steady herself. Getting out of bed had made her dizzy. The nurse checked on her after about five minutes.

  “You doing okay in there?” Becky called through the door.

  “Yep. Just washing my hands.” Jean wiped her hands on the paper towels and opened the bathroom door. “All done.”

  “Good. You need help back to the bed?”

  “No, the dizziness has passed. I’m getting hungry, actually.” Jean shuffled to the bed and eased into it.

  Becky rolled the IV stand to a convenient spot. “I get off in about half an hour. Breakfast is in an hour. Doctors make rounds after breakfast.”

  “Two more hours? I feel good, can’t I leave now?”

  Becky frowned. “You had a big hit on your head. The doc is going to want to examine you to be sure you aren’t suffering from a concussion or worse.”

  A sigh escaped from Jean. “Okay. I guess I can wait.” An idea sprang into her mind. “Where is my phone? I can make a couple of calls while I wait.”

  “Um, well, technically, you shouldn’t be making cell phone calls from inside the hospital. But…” She walked over to a narrow vertical door in the unit that held the TV and opened it. “Here’s your phone.” She handed Jean a plastic bag with her name taped across the front.

  “Thank you, Becky. I appreciate it. I want to call my son.”

  Becky tugged the bottom hem of her scrub top down. “Okay. I’ve got to go. Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Becky. You’ve been very helpful and I appreciate it.”

  The nurse left. Jean pulled the phone out of the baggie and wished desperately for a cup of hot tea. She drank some water and speed-dialed Karen.

  “Hi, Jean. I’m just about to leave for the fairgrounds. What’s up?”

  “I was attacked last night, Karen. I’m in the hospital.”

  “Oh my God, Jean! What happened, are you all right?”

  “I was whacked in the head, got a gash, but otherwise I’m fine. With any luck I’ll be out of here by, oh, I don’t know, ten, maybe. I just wondered if you want to stop by and get the building key?”

  “Attacked! What is going on?”

  Jean could hear things slamming and banging on Karen’s end of the phone. “I don’t know. Chief White was in here at zero dark thirty asking me questions. I forgot to ask him how I ended up in the hospital.”

  “What’d he tell you?”

  “He didn’t tell me much, but he asked if we’d been doing any more investigating. I’ll bet he thinks someone thinks we know more than we do.”

  Jean could hear a door banging in the background. “I’m on my way over. Do you know what room you’re in?”

  “No, I don’t know. Someone should be able to tell you. I’ve never been in this hospital. I don’t even know what street it’s on.”

  Karen laughed. “I’ll figure it out. See you in a bit.”

  “Bye.”

  She clicked off and took a deep breath. It was time to call her son. She hit the speed dial for him. It was quarter to seven; he might be on his morning commute already. The phone clicked and he answered. “Hello?”

  “Hi Jim, it’s Mom.”

  “Hi Mom. I’m on the road. Pretty early for a call, are you okay?”


  Jean clicked her tongue. She didn’t want to give him bad news while he was driving. “I had a little trouble last night. I’m in the hospital with a scalp wound.” She held her breath.

  She could hear the road noise in the background. “What happened, Mom?” His voice was tight.

  “Not sure, actually. I was attacked in the fairgrounds parking lot last night. I’m fine. I’ll be getting out of the hospital this morning.”

  “For God’s sake, Mom. I thought you weren’t going to investigate that murder anymore!”

  “I didn’t. I was busy all day yesterday. I never talked to a soul about it.”

  “Are you sure you want to stay in that town? Sounds like a piss-poor place.”

  “The town is nice, Jim. It’s actually the first time in decades the town has had a murder. I like it here. The weather is great, I have friends. It’s a good place.”

  She could hear him sigh on the other end. “Okay, Mom. But first it’s your tires, now it’s you. Somebody’s out to get you.”

  The realization of her situation hit her. A shiver of fear ran down her spine. Maybe it was just bravado yesterday and shock this morning but Jim was right. Someone was out to get her. The tires were one thing, but now this was really personal. No wonder the Police Chief was in her room in the middle of the night. She was single-handedly driving up the crime stats in Greyson. “Well, I don’t know anything. I’ll keep an eye out. “

  Jim sighed. “Take care of yourself, Mom. Do I need to come out there? It’s only a few hours away.”

  “Don’t do that, Jim. I’m fine.”

  “Fine. But you call me immediately if something else happens.”

  “I will, son. Have a good day at work. Drive safe.”

  He laughed. “I will, Mom.” He clicked off.

  She hit the disconnect button. He fine’d me. She sighed. My son fine’d me. She put the phone on the side table that Becky had positioned next to the bed. Maybe he’s right. Someone is out to get me. Who could it be? I talked to Ari and to that Josh Marlow. It can’t be Ari, he’s Karen’s cousin. Could our casual questions have made Josh Marlow nervous? As far as I know Nick hasn't questioned him yet. But the police have questioned Arris. Twice. Her head ached and through the ache a new thought started niggling at Jean.