A small stack of shelves that looked as if at one point it had been nailed on a wall, leaned against the canvas. The shelves were stacked with colorful boxes of incense, patchouli, lavender, white sage. There was even a box labeled Dragon's Blood. I stepped closer to read the rest and crunched something beneath my foot. I hopped back, not wanting to get in trouble for disturbing evidence. A pile of incense sticks were strewn on the floor as if dropped suddenly. It seemed the killer might have walked in on Cherise and startled her. It was strange, considering her tent was in the center of a crowded circus. She should have been expecting customers. Unless, of course, the visitor was someone she had hoped not to see. Maybe someone she knew she'd angered. A jealous wife, perhaps?
With the exception of the one stick I broke with my shoe, I left the incense undisturbed. I circled around the table, keeping my eyes averted from the body. Like I'd bragged to Jackson, I'd been to a few murder scenes, but this one was making me uncomfortable. It might have been from standing in such close quarters with the victim or the way she was still seated at the table as if she was about to read the Tarot cards under her hand or maybe it was because I'd actually met and spoken with Cherise. Whatever the cause, I had goosebumps running along both arms. I hurried my investigation.
It seemed I hadn't needed to touch a thing. My shoes were doing all the work today. My right foot moved freely, but my left foot was stuck to the rug beneath the table. It was a dark floral printed area rug that was faded and dirty from use. I peeled my shoe off the sticky substance on the rug and crouched down to get a closer look. I'd made a promise not to touch anything, but I saw no harm in running my fingers lightly over the sticky spot. Little nubs of worn yarn rolled under my hand as my fingertips gently adhered to a sticky substance. I lifted my fingers but couldn't smell much past the lingering odor of incense and blood.
I pushed to my feet and tapped around with my cleaner right shoe. There were more sticky spots as if someone had tracked syrup into the tent. The tent was located in the center of a carnival that was brimming with sticky treats like maple covered funnel cakes, syrup drenched snow cones, ice cream and cotton candy. Any one of Cherise's clients could have tracked it in. Only, it seemed, whoever it was had walked past the visitor's chair to the fortune teller's side of the table. Unless the stickiness came from Cherise's shoes.
I dreaded the idea and knew I'd be breaking my promise to Jackson, but I had to know if the sticky spot was a clue or just a mess left behind by the victim's shoes. I stooped back down next to the table. The shimmery silver tablecloth nearly touched the ground. I lifted it and found that Cherise liked to wear sandals just like Raine. I'd always assumed the sandals just went with Raine's colorful Bohemian style, but maybe it was a psychic thing. Either way, it made me sad to see Cherise's pale white feet resting in cute leather braided sandals. She had taken the time to paint her toe nails orange with little yellow stars. Fortunately, the position she was sitting on the chair made it so that her toes were pointed up, exposing the soles of her sandals a few inches.
I swept my finger beneath each sandal. They were gritty but not sticky.
As I pulled my head out from under the cloth, something shiny caught my eye. I knew I was breaking my promise again, but it was all in pursuit of Cherise's killer. I reached into the darkness toward the shiny speck. A teensy piece of shiny metal stuck to my fingertip. On closer inspection, I concluded that it was a piece of confetti. I ducked my head under and lifted the tablecloth higher to allow more light in. A few more pieces of shiny confetti glittered in the rug.
I scooted out from under the table but stayed crouched near the ground. There were at least a dozen pieces of confetti strewn about the rug. I pushed to my feet. Jackson and I had watched as Carson tossed an unwelcome bucket of metallic confetti on the Spring Fair Queen. Melinda had a difficult time getting it out of her hair. I would have to make a trip to the stage, where they'd crowned the queen, to see if the confetti had been cleaned up. If not, which, with the way the carnival was maintained, I felt might be the case, it meant any person walking near the stage could have picked up confetti bits on their shoes. Especially if the shoes were sticky with syrup.
Voices rumbled outside the tent, including the deep, melodic one I'd grown to recognize anywhere. The tent flap opened, ushering in the cool outside air. It suddenly beckoned me to step out for a fresh breath. Jackson seemed a little surprised and not too pleased to see me still inside the crime scene.
"I was just leaving," I said quickly.
"Too late." Jackson held the flap wider. A man and woman, each wearing white coroner coats and carrying leather bags, stepped inside. An assistant with a camera around his neck and carrying a tall, portable light followed the medical examiners.
The coroner looked confused and then askance at me. I looked to Jackson for help out of the awkward situation.
"Sunni, thanks so much for your help with keeping any curious onlookers from peeking under the tent," Jackson said calmly. He placed a hand against my back and escorted me out of the tent. I was relieved to be outside, away from the smell of blood.
"That was quick thinking, Detective Jackson," I mused. "Guess you developed that skill working for the police department."
"Nope, I learned it when I was a teenager and I needed a quick, plausible excuse for doing stuff I wasn't supposed to be doing." He led me past the team of officers waiting to go in for evidence collection.
They had done an admirable job of clearing the carnival of visitors. Even the workers had been moved out of the radius of the crime scene.
"I've got to get back in there," Jackson said. "Are you taking off?"
"Now when have you known me to just wander away from a murder investigation?"
"I haven't. I was just hoping that ten minutes in a small tent with a dead woman might have made you lose your taste for murder."
I shook my head once. "Nope. If anything, I'm more intrigued." I hopped up on my toes and kissed him lightly on the mouth. "Thank you for the ice cream. I'm sure it would have been delicious. I'll see you later, Detective Jackson."
Chapter 15
I headed toward the murmur of voices at the far end of the carnival. Apparently, it was where the carnival staff had been shepherded to when they cleared the crime scene area. I didn't see Carson or his wife amongst them. It was entirely possible that Carson was being questioned somewhere secluded to find out just what he'd discovered when he walked into Cherise's tent. It made sense that his wife would be with him at a time like this. After all, one of their regular staff members had been brutally murdered and a day's revenue had been lost. It was hard to know exactly how this event would affect attendance. With human nature being as it was, too curious when it came to the macabre and scandalous, it might very well help ticket sales. But one thing was for certain, the rest of the staff looked shaken.
Some of the women consoled each other in a huddle. There were plenty of tears and sobs and shaking heads. A green striped shirt caught my eye amidst the sea of teal and pink stripes. Calvin, this morning's unenthusiastic tour guide, paced in a small circle. His mouth was pulled tight, and he rubbed his hands anxiously together.
Since we'd shared a wonderful bond earlier in the day, I didn't hesitate to walk over to him. "Hello, Calvin, I noticed you look very distraught. Can I get you something? A cup of water, maybe?"
"Last person I need to talk to right now is a reporter," he barked, and marched toward a group of workers standing near the octopus ride.
"Poor Cal, he's taking it really hard," a voice said from behind.
I turned around. The girl looked exceptionally young. She was dressed in the teal and pink carnie shirt but she'd pulled on a red beanie to shield her ears from the cool air coming off the mountains.
She untied the hooded sweatshirt around her waist and pulled it on. "It's getting colder. I wonder how long the police are going to want us to wait here." She glanced at my clothes. "I think all the visitors were supposed to leave." She shrugged. "
But doesn't make any difference to me if you stay." Her nametag said Brianna.
"Thanks, Brianna. I'm actually not a visitor. Well, not technically. I'm a reporter for the Junction Times."
"Man oh man, you reporters are fast. I bet this will make a big headline." Brianna zipped up her sweatshirt. "Poor Cherise. Is it true she was shot in the head? How come no one heard it?"
"I don't know all the details." I decided to play innocent and pretend I'd just been on the outside of it all, like the rest of them. "I did hear someone say it wasn't a gunshot."
Brianna pulled a package of gum out of her sweatshirt pocket and grinned at it as if she'd just found a twenty dollar bill. "I forgot all about this gum." She pulled out a piece and offered me one.
"No, thanks." I glanced around to see where Calvin had ended up. He had pulled himself away from the larger group that was huddled together for warmth and emotional support. Calvin had hoisted himself up on a short retaining wall that separated the Ferris wheel from the walkway. A lit cigarette jutted from his mouth. His shoulders were slumped, and he stared down at the ground. This morning, after being shooed away by Carson, I'd found Calvin and Cherise having an argument, or very heated discussion, behind the Ferris wheel. I decided to do a little digging, and gum chewing Brianna seemed like just the right person to ask.
"Brianna, you mentioned that Cal was taking it really hard. I met Calvin this morning when I was here doing interviews with staff members. I followed him around while he performed his maintenance duties." I chuckled. "I don't think he was too thrilled to have me tag along, but Carson thought it would be valuable for my article."
The gum had finally softened enough for Brianna to talk. "Ooh, you're writing an article about the carnival. How cool." Her bottom lip jutted slightly. "Carson should have sent you my way. I work at the little kiddie airplane ride. I would have been happy to answer your questions."
I'd gone on too far of a tangent from my original question, my digging query. I thought it was necessary for me to put some context into my short relationship with my subject of interest, namely, Calvin.
"I'm sure it would have been a much more pleasant morning than the one I spent with Calvin. He would have preferred it too. Was he especially close with Cherise?" I asked. "He seemed very upset just now when I approached him."
Brianna's brown eyes rounded with newfound interest. "That's right. You wouldn't know anything about this. It's not as if Calvin would have said anything about it on his maintenance tour."
I forced a smile and wondered if I was this hard to communicate with as a teenager. "What wouldn't I know anything about? You lost me."
Brianna leaned in close enough for me to smell the spearmint on her breath. "I've only been with the carnival for two years, but Calvin and Cherise were a thing for those two years."
I was fairly certain what 'a thing' meant, but I wanted to be sure just in case the definition for 'a thing' was different in the teenage world than the adult world.
"They were a couple?" I asked.
"Yep, hot and heavy all the way. Right up until the day when Cherise flattened him. And she didn't do it in private. The breakup was right after a staff meeting. We all heard her tell Cal she was through with him." Brianna shook her head. "I felt really bad for the guy. He was both heartbroken and humiliated." She lowered her voice. "To tell the truth, Cherise was kind of mean like that."
"That sounds pretty ruthless," I agreed. "It's hard enough to be dumped, but to have it happen in front of your coworkers—well, that's just brutal. When did this breakup happen? Was it recently?"
Brianna chewed her gum a second and considered my question. "That's right. We were down in Texas for a fair. That's when she told him they were through. It was last month. Don't remember the exact dates." She laughed. "Life on the road does that to you."
Brianna glanced back toward Calvin. He was still smoking his cigarette and avoiding conversations with others. I tried to assess what his mood was, upset, angry or indifferent. It was hard to tell.
"I think he's taking it pretty hard," I said, to see if she concurred.
"Yeah," she said. It wasn't the strong answer I expected. "It's not easy to tell with Calvin. He's kind of standoffish. He doesn't really hang out with the rest of us, and after Cherise broke it off, he became even more of a loner."
"That's too bad," I said. "Do you know why Cherise decided to break up with him? Was he treating her badly?"
"This place is like a traveling soap opera, if you know what I mean." Brianna pulled the knit beanie lower over her ears. "There are always hook ups and breakups. Most of the time, it's just out of boredom. Cherise and Calvin lasted a lot longer than most. I never talked to her much, but from what I heard, she'd fallen for someone else. I'm not sure who because if she was seeing someone, she kept it behind the scenes."
"Then Cherise might have been having a secret affair of sorts," I offered.
"Yeah, I guess that's what you'd call it. A few people were whispering around that it was Carson Stockton, the owner of the carnival. But that could just have been a rumor. Those can get pretty crazy around this place."
"I'm sure."
"Hey, Bri, come on back," a kid with bleached white hair and a tattoo scrawled around his neck called to her from the huddled group. He had his hands in his pockets, and his shoulders were hunched forward.
"That's Cody, my boyfriend," Brianna gushed. "He makes double income because he's also one of the truck drivers. You get more money if you can drive one of the bigger vehicles."
"Cody looks cold," I said.
She gave the gum a good chew. "Yeah, he lost his sweatshirt earlier. He said someone stole it while he was working the controls. He runs the Lovers' Lane ride," she gushed again. "It's considered the top job around here because it's so popular. I told him he probably just misplaced it. I mean it was just a ratty old gray sweatshirt like this one." She pulled at the edge of her hood.
"Well, I won't keep you from your friends any longer, Brianna. Thanks for talking to me."
"Sure thing. If you need a picture to go with the article—" She posed with a big smile. "Just let me know."
"I will, thanks."
Some of the other workers watched me with interest and appeared to quickly grill Brianna about the stranger she'd been talking to. My few moments with her had been enlightening, to say the least.
Chapter 16
The stage where the queen had been crowned and covered in confetti was closer to the center of the carnival, just past the portable buildings set up for the Lovers' Lane ride and one called Crazy Zombie World. I headed that direction.
I heard voices as I came around the Zombie World corner. While most of the carnival workers were grouped at the far end of the lot, it seemed the queen and her court had congregated near the stage. Melinda was sitting on one of the fold up chairs, and three of her friends, the same girls I'd seen with her on crowning day and this morning handing out balloons, had pulled chairs out of their rows to sit around her. Queen Melinda definitely seemed to enjoy being the center of attention, even on such a grim occasion. She had left her royal cape and crown elsewhere, which made sense considering the circumstances. It seemed her queenly duties were done for the day anyhow.
I headed through the lines of chairs set up in front of the stage and caught the eye of one of Melinda's friends, the same girl who was voicing deep concern for Melinda when they were handing out balloons. The friend leaned in and said something, and all four girls turned my direction.
"Hello," I said politely. "Don't mind me, I'm just strolling around trying to get some ideas for the article I'm writing."
"What article?" a girl with a short bob cut and big hoop earrings asked. She looked at Melinda for clarification as if being queen meant she knew exactly what I was talking about.
Melinda didn't seem to have an answer either. There was no reason she should.
I neared them. After a quick assessment, I calculated their ages between nineteen and twenty-two. I n
oticed that Melinda did, in fact, look quite shaken. There was still no ring on her finger either, so it was hard to tell the exact source of distress. Even as Spring Fair Queen, it was unlikely she knew Cherise personally.
I pulled out my press pass.
"The Junction Times," a girl with a black striped sweater and jean jacket chirped. "Are you that reporter, Sunni Taylor? My mom likes your articles, although she says sometimes you're a little too opinionated."
Being a seasoned journalist, I was always ready for a compliment or a critique. It was rare when they came together. I smiled. "Guilty as charged."
They didn't seem to understand what I meant, so I decided it was time to move on in our discussion. "I'm writing an article about the carnival—"
"And, of course you need to interview me because I was crowned queen," Melinda said with a sort of exasperated sigh. Life as a royal was apparently quite exhausting. I didn't want to embarrass her by making it seem I hadn't even considered an interview, so I went with it.
"I understand that now isn't a good time, what with everything that's happened," I said.
"Hey, wait," the friend with the hoop earrings pointed a long pink nail at me. "You're that reporter who nearly died when the horse and carriage took off through town at Christmas. And Detective Jackson jumped on and saved you."
"I saw that video," the third friend said. "I was out of town, so I missed the whole thing but everyone was sharing it." She smiled at her friends, then looked up at me. "Especially the kiss. My mom saw the video, and she said 'well, if that's what it takes to get a kiss from Detective Jackson, then I'm jumping on the next carriage'."
They broke into laughter. I found myself joining them.
Calamity at the Carnival Page 7