"I don't recommend it as the best way to get a kiss," I said after the laughter subsided.
"Are you his girlfriend?" the girl with the black striped sweater asked. "My sister said Detective Jackson has a different girlfriend for every day of the week."
The girl with the hoop earrings, not so subtly, kicked her friend's shoe and gave her an admonishing look.
I was more than aware of Jackson's reputation with women, but I'd convinced myself it was before we started dating. Whatever he did before that was his business.
"All men are rotten," Melinda grumbled. She crossed her arms tightly and curled back against the chair. It seemed we'd landed on a sore subject. I didn't feel comfortable asking her about the engagement. I wasn't getting the same, friendly, happy-to-talk about anything vibe I had gotten from Brianna. And I wasn't terribly interested in Melinda's social life. I was focusing on Cherise's murder.
"Did any of you girls know Cherise?"
My question started a circle of secretive glances between the friends, Melinda included.
"Why do you ask?" Melinda asked curtly.
"No reason. I was just wondering what happened to her. Have you heard anything?" I added casually.
The girl with the hoop earrings seemed to be the unofficial spokesperson for the group. "We don't know anything. We were on the other side of the carnival, by the rides. Melinda was handing out free balloons, and we were all helping her. "
"Yes, after we spent a good half hour looking for Melinda's cape," the girl in the sweater complained.
The girl with the earrings rolled her eyes at being interrupted and continued with her story. "So, we were handing out balloons. Then we heard a lot of commotion and saw people heading toward the game area. A few minutes later, Carson and some of the workers were walking around telling visitors that the carnival would be closed for the rest of the day."
"But you girls stayed behind?" I asked.
Melinda seemed put off by my question. "We weren't visitors. I'm the Spring Fair Queen," she reminded me with a snooty chin lift. "My friends were helping me."
"Of course, yes, that makes sense," I said, although it really didn't.
"What does it matter now," Melinda's haughty tone had disintegrated. "My whole reign as queen is ruined. The carnival is a disaster. This week was supposed to be the best week of my life." She covered her face for a few sobs. Her friends immediately leapt into comfort mode.
"You don't know if the carnival is ruined," the girl with earrings said. "They'll probably open up tomorrow like nothing happened."
It seemed like a rather cold assessment of the situation but then they were working hard to ease their friend's distress. If my suspicions were correct, that Sutton Wright had proposed and then just as quickly withdrawn the offer, then it truly was a bad week for Melinda.
"Well, take care," I said. "And I hope your week gets better." I headed off.
"I'll probably be more in the mood for an interview and pictures tomorrow," Melinda called as I walked away. Apparently, terrible week or not, the Spring Fair Queen didn't want to miss out on having her wise words and picture in the paper.
"Sounds good," I waved. I was determined to search the stage area for a few pieces of confetti. I needed to make sure it was the same metallic tidbits I'd found in the rug of Cherise's tent.
The girls were deep in conversation and didn't seem to care or notice that I was snooping around the stage. Of course, they had no idea that I was investigating the murder. I circled the portable steps that led up to the stage and scanned the ground for confetti. A day had passed since the crowning ceremony and plenty of feet had tracked through the area since then, distributing dirt and debris and carrying away anything like confetti that tended to stick to surfaces like shoes. Fortunately, metallic glitter was easy to spot, even under a dimly lit sky. Three silver particles sparkled up at me from the black rubber mats on the bottom step. I pulled a tissue from my coat pocket and stooped down to sweep them up. They were made of the same material as the confetti on Cherise's rug. I folded the pieces into my tissue and put them in my pocket. It wasn't any kind of earth shattering discovery. Just about anyone who walked near the stage area could have picked up confetti on their shoe and carried it into Cherise's tent, but I was going to hold onto the pieces just in case they were significant.
My work done, I decided to head back toward the crime scene and look for Jackson. With any luck, he'd be willing to share new details about the murder.
Chapter 17
Jackson was standing outside Cherise's tent talking to Officer Inez Reed. She was a gun expert, extremely skilled, according to Jackson. She was also beautiful with dark copper hair and a smooth, olive complexion. The latter, I'd deduced on my own because it was as plain as the perfect symmetry of her face. She came to most crime scenes. I always had to work a bit to not be jealous that she often worked closely with Jackson. It seemed, I'd let Melinda's friend's comment get under my skin a little more than I realized. My track record with men didn't exactly make me a steel statue of confidence.
Officer Reed spotted me first. She glanced my direction and said something to Jackson. He turned around. The smile that broke on his face made all the negative thoughts flutter away. Jackson walked over to meet me, and Officer Reed went back inside the crime scene.
"Well, Inspector Taylor, did you find anything relevant?" He leaned forward and kissed my nose. "That little button nose is cold. You should head home."
"Eventually. Did your team find anything?"
"I asked you first," he reminded me.
"I talked to one of the carnival workers, a nice girl named Brianna who runs one of the kiddie rides. She told me that Calvin, the maintenance man, who I just happened to spend the morning with, had been in a long relationship with Cherise. Apparently, she made quite a show of ruthlessly breaking up with him right in front of their coworkers. I asked him if he was all right or if I could get him something, and he nearly bit my head off."
"You spent the morning with him?" he asked. He was especially cute with a furrowed brow.
"Really? That's the part that stands out to you? I told you I was doing interviews for my article. When Carson was too out of sorts to talk this morning, he sent me to shadow Calvin on his maintenance rounds. I think he wanted me to put in a good word about his highly maintained, super-safe carnival rides."
"That's right. Sorry. Got a little hot under the collar when you said you'd spent the morning with someone named Calvin."
I smiled. "Yeah? Hot under the collar?"
"Never mind that. Sounds like good information. I'll tell Officer Reed. She's taking over this case."
The tent flaps lifted and a woman wearing a white coroner's coat emerged. She turned and grabbed hold of the end of a gurney. We watched, in silence, as Cherise's body was wheeled out of her tent and into the back of the coroner's van.
"Coroner said she's been dead anywhere from two to three hours," Jackson said. "So Carson found her fairly soon after the murder."
"Doesn't leave a big window of time. He had to have been her first visitor after the killer." I turned back to Jackson. "Why is Officer Reed taking over?"
"I'm still working on this bank robbery. It's a priority right now. The two thieves are getting more brazen, and they're carrying guns."
I sensed that the bank robbery case was getting to him. It was rare for him to get frustrated, but I could see it in the set of his jaw.
"I'm sure you'll catch them soon," I said. I was disappointed he wasn't going to be working the murder case. It meant no good insider information.
"I don't think they're local boys," he said.
"Boys? Are they that young?"
"Early twenties at the most. The best lead I've got is that one of them is wearing shoes that have lights. They flash when he takes a step." He took a deep breath and raked his hair back with his fingers. "Anyhow, I'm off this case for now. I'll let Officer Reed know about the maintenance man's relationship with the victim. I'm
sure she'll start interviewing some of the carnival workers soon. Carson said he was going to have them get to work cleaning up for the day once the coroner was finished and gone. Speaking of the maintenance man, they found the murder weapon. Carson said it was a tool that belonged to the carnival." Jackson motioned for me to follow him to a fold out table that had been set up outside the crime scene. Evidence bags of every shape and size were carefully laid out on the table.
One of the smallest bags contained a few pieces of the metallic confetti. Another contained what appeared to be fibers from the rug under Cherise's table.
"I see your team has found the confetti and the sticky spots on the rug," I said, with a smug grin. "I noticed both of those things in my quick perusal of the crime scene."
"You definitely have a knack for snooping out evidence." There was a touch of pride in his voice.
"Thank you." I moved down the table to the large bag that contained the mirror with the cryptic message 'no more fortunes' written in blood. I shrugged. "Of course, any amateur could have found this piece of evidence. I wonder if the murderer just got carried away in the heated moment and scrawled the sentiment? Or maybe the words have a hidden meaning?"
"Not too sure," Jackson said. "Like you already noted, the unique way they wrote the letter f might lead us to the killer. Once they narrow down a suspect list, they can request some handwriting samples to look for a match." He moved to the last bag on the table, an extra large one that contained a long metal rod with a triangular shaped head. The blood-smeared, thick metal triangle contained what looked like cylindrical teeth. "This was the murder weapon."
"That definitely looks like a one blow kind of weapon. And with those teeth protruding from the end, I'd say it wouldn't even take all that much strength to crush a skull."
"Nope, wouldn't take much at all."
I leaned closer to get a better look at the object. "I don't proclaim to be a tool expert, but Henry and Ursula have an impressive collection of them. I haven't ever seen anything like this one."
"They wouldn't have any need for this. It's called a Hickey bar."
I chuckled. "Oh wow, I'll bet that thing really leaves a good sized hickey."
"Funny lady. It's used to bend rebar. Carson said they use it to straighten out crooked tracks on the rides. Your information about the maintenance man might be the best we've gotten yet. He would certainly have easy access to the tools."
"Its seems my sleuthing skills know no bound."
"About that, Sunni—" Jackson's voice grew sterner.
"Uh oh, why do you sound like my dad used to when he was about to tell me I was grounded."
Officer Reed came out of the tent with another small evidence bag. I stretched up and tried to look past Jackson to see what she had, but he took hold of my hand and led me away from the table and the activity near the tent. He continued around the baseball throw booth, where I'd brilliantly won him a stuffed unicorn, and out of sight of the others.
He lifted my chin so I had no option except to look right at him. Not that that was ever a bad thing, but I sensed he was working up to a lecture about what I liked to call my parallel investigation.
His amber eyes took on that dark gold glow that came on whenever he was in a serious mood. "You've spent some time checking out clues today, but now you need to step away from this murder."
I stared up at him for a long, quiet moment. Then a laugh shot from my mouth.
He dropped his finger and shook his head. "As you might recall, my little Bluebird, you nearly got yourself killed at Christmas when you stepped into a murder investigation. People who kill other people are not in their right minds. Simply put, they are dangerous."
"I do recall the harrowing incident. I also recall that it earned me a kiss."
"Well, it nearly earned me a heart attack. Sunni, promise me you won't do anything dangerous. I'm not even on this case, so I won't be able to swoop in on my horse to rescue you." He paused and seemed to be reliving that day.
"You've got to admit," I said, "that was actually pretty darn cool, wasn't it?"
"Except for the part where you nearly got killed," he reminded me.
"True, that part wasn't so great." I placed my hands on his chest and leaned closer to him, instantly basking in his cozy body heat. "I'll just interview a few people and get a sense of how they felt about Cherise. I am, after all, tasked with writing a story about the carnival."
He wrapped his arms around me to bring me even closer against him. "I thought Seymour wanted you to write a glowing review."
"He does but he never said anything about leaving out murder." I smiled up at him. "Now about that kiss."
Chapter 18
Jackson left the scene, reluctantly, knowing that I was still snooping around. I assured him I wouldn't do more than ask the other carnival employees a few questions, here and there. The days were getting longer, but the late afternoon clouds had made it seem as if the sun had already set. It was a brisk spring evening, and a dismal mood hung over the carnival like a cold, wet blanket.
I lingered near the remaining police activity. Most of them had seen or met me at some point in my relationship with Jackson, and they didn't seem to mind that I hung around. Cherise's body had long since been removed. A still shaken Carson Stockton was talking to Officer Reed. It seemed he had plans to reopen the carnival the next morning. He just couldn't afford not to, were the words I overheard. He was concerned that the tent, now roped off with yellow caution tape, would be sitting in the center of the carnival. Not the ideal centerpiece for a spring fair. While they worked out the details of what to do with the literally pop-up crime scene, I headed in the direction of a woman's voice being broadcast through a megaphone. I'd only heard her a few times, but I was certain it was Ivonne Stockton. It dawned on me then that I had yet to see Ivonne during the chaotic past few hours.
"Everyone, please gather in front of the stage," Ivonne announced as she walked down the main aisle that led through the rides. Half the workers were already sitting in some of the metal chairs. Melinda and her friends were no longer sitting near the stage. They weren't paid employees of the carnival, so there was no need for them to stick around.
Ivonne Stockton reminded me of Miss Rutherford, my tenth grade softball coach, with a megaphone in one hand and a clipboard in the other. The only thing missing was Miss R's silver whistle and her ramrod straight posture. Ivonne was also shorter and a little softer in the middle and arms than my coach.
"Everyone, sit," she ordered. "The faster we get started, the earlier you can be off for the night. It's been a long, trying day, and I'm sure you all want to get to your trailers to rest.
A weary, muttering crowd of about thirty carnies shuffled to the chairs with sweatshirts and coats covering up the signature teal and pink shirts. Ivonne was the only person who still looked sharp and fresh as if she had just started her day. She seemed a little too lively considering what had just happened in the middle of her carnival, especially in contrast to the rest of her crew.
"Quickly, quickly take a seat." She gave her last order through the megaphone and then turned it off as the group quieted to a low mutter and eventual silence.
I stayed off in the shadows hoping to hear the entire meeting without anyone taking notice. I scanned the group for Calvin and spotted him in the last row at the end. He was slumped down with rounded shoulders and arms crossed tightly. His chin was nearly touching his chest. It didn't take a body language reading expert to see that he was clearly trying to withdraw from everything happening around him.
"I know it's been a terrible afternoon, and it will take all of us a great deal of time to get over what has happened," Ivonne started. "Cherise was a good friend, and we'll miss her."
"Do the police know what happened?" someone called out from the chairs.
"They're working on it. Hopefully, we'll have some answers soon. There were a lot of people milling about at that time, our busiest part of the day, so I'm sure it will take t
hem awhile to sort it all out. In the meantime—" she whisked off to a different topic, seemingly anxious to leave the last one behind. "I know it's hard after such a great shock, but if you could all return to your stations and clean up for the night, just as you would for any regular closing. That means getting everything ready for tomorrow."
"We're going to be open tomorrow?" a woman called. A disgruntled murmur moved through the group.
"Thought we'd at least have a day off," someone else said to a few agreeing cheers.
"Out of respect to Cherise," someone else offered.
Ivonne waited for the murmurs and sidebar conversations to stop. "Yes, all of your comments make sense, only how many of you can miss an entire day of pay? We can't pay you if the carnival isn't open. We're already losing money this afternoon."
More disgruntled mumbles and a few head shakes. "Seems like we deserve a paid day off after what we've been through," someone else said.
Ivonne patiently waited for them to finish the next round of complaints. This round took longer and seemed to be growing steam, instead of falling off. She lifted the megaphone, then seemed to think better of it. Yelling at the group through a speaker wasn't going to help them see her side of things. It was a typical management versus workers kind of dispute.
Ivonne lowered the megaphone and lifted her hand, teacher fashion, to stop the talking. "I understand why you're upset. The best I can do is offer two hours of bonus pay for working tomorrow. But closing down for another full day will not only put us in violation of the contract we have with the town but the financial hit will mean cutting back on budgetary necessities like hot dog buns and paper cups. That's all I have to say. Please head back to your stations, clean up and prepare to open in the morning. The sooner you get started, the sooner you can be off for the night to reflect and recover from this terrible day." With that, she turned sharply on her heels to let them know she was done and they could continue to complain amongst themselves or get finished with their work for the evening.
Calamity at the Carnival Page 8