Carol Shenold - Tali Cates 02 - Bloody Murder

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Carol Shenold - Tali Cates 02 - Bloody Murder Page 8

by Carol Shenold


  I fell into the front door and heard a crack. Spider-web cracks snaked their way through the glass. I couldn’t breathe or see. My cell phone vibrated but I wouldn’t have been able to hear anyone above the buzzing. I grabbed hold of the door handle and jerked.

  The door wouldn’t open.

  I jerked harder, then pushed and fell out the door, lurched across the porch and stumbled part of the way down the stairs. Sudden silence surrounded me.

  I sat sprawled on the stairs like some drunk sleeping off a binge. I wasn’t smashed, but I could have used a drink.

  What had happened? My eyes felt fine now, I could breathe, I was no longer coughing. No hornet sounds assailed my ears. I looked back up at the library door. No cracks splintered the glass. I scrambled up before someone passed by and asked me what was going on, because I had no clue.

  It was as if I’d been chased out of the library by something intelligent, evil, and downright mean that I couldn’t see. Welcome to my world. Had I stirred up some spirit again? Was this incident an example of what was going to happen to the rest of my family, or was it simply aimed at me for some reason? Did the spirit world hate me?

  I had my purse and still clutched the picture. I reluctantly trudged back up the stairs since I didn’t remember logging off. I wasn’t eager to go back in there but I didn’t want to face Marion if shutting down that way had fried the computer. The doors were locked tight. Impossible. Had Marion come back in another way? But she’d said she was on the way to the Duchess contest, where I should be right now. I peered in the door and saw the monitor blinking as if nothing had happened.

  I shook my head. Why was my life so filled with bizarre happenings, like the presence I’d felt at the amphitheatre, like Mag the ghost last year? Did something about me, in me, call negative energy? Maybe Mumsie was right and Love was an epicenter of all things supernatural. So now what, vampires and werewolves and demons, oh my?

  I could have, should have walked to the fairgrounds, but my legs were shaky and I wanted my car for an easy getaway. It had not been a wonderful morning and I had the entire afternoon and evening ahead of me, complete with Duchess Contest this afternoon, supper with Aiden and the kids, and the Queen Contest tonight. I stopped for a frozen coffee drink on the way. I was going to need way more caffeine if I planned to make it through the rest of the day.

  Chapter Ten

  Parents and friends used blankets and lawn chairs to stake out prime seating so they could watch their kids perform. Judge’s tables were in order, water in place, along with paper fans from Restful Passages Funeral Home. A few contestants put belongings in the dressing room. I didn’t feel any ominous presence lurking. Contestant’s mothers surrounded the soundman, shoving last-minute tape changes at him.

  Sunlight glinted off the foil stars pinned to the hay bales. In back of the dressing rooms under a couple of large Bois d’Arc trees, the before-pageant talent gathered in costume, looking for shade. Up the hill in the pavilion, 4H kids showed off their ribbons by pinning them to the cages of their chicks, rabbits, and pens with a hog or calf. Carnival rides were busy and noisy.

  “Tali, Tali. Yoo hoo.” Lyn clattered across the stage, wearing a floral cropped pantsuit in cheerful shades of green and gold, her blonde hair in an impossibly balanced up-do. She looked like an exotic flower and lit up when a ray of sun hit her. The red pendant she always wore sparkled in the light.

  “Isn’t it wonderful? They didn’t cancel the contest. I’m so glad and the girls are all excited.”

  I smiled back. Her cheerfulness was catching. “I’m glad they didn’t move us into the auditorium. Dampens the atmosphere when you don’t have the carnival next door and an audience that mills around like a living organism. Are you okay with corralling the girls and talent while I emcee?”

  “Oh sure. I heard about Ray. Tough for him but you’ll do fine, and I can herd them with no problem.”

  “Remember, it will be more like herding cats than calves. This is a wild bunch.”

  “No problem. Say, are you catching cold or something? Your eyes look a little red. Have you been crying?”

  “No.” I wasn’t about to tell her about my close encounter with whatever it was at the library.

  The soundman cued up music, current faves by pop country stars. People filed into and filled the seats. I checked out both dressing rooms and warned everyone that the show would begin in fifteen minutes. Modeling was the first event. Girls in formal dress clustered like spring flowers waiting for the rain along the outside wall of both dressing rooms.

  I collected the note cards Ray’s wife sent over with the girls’ names, talents, favorite color, and foods, everything needed to do intros during modeling and interviews before the talent portion of the program.

  It was time to introduce the opening acts designed to keep the audience entertained and let local talent show off for the community. First up were the Lone Star Cloggers, a local dance group Mumsie danced with. I’d never seen her clog dance but tried to keep an open mind. Thank God they opted for black slacks and white shirts instead of the neon spandex favored by some of the groups who didn’t know the difference between clogging and tap dancing.

  Lone Star encouraged the old-fashioned dance style similar to its Irish step-dancing roots, where the dancers danced with arms at their sides or behind their backs. As a nod to Southern roots, “Rocky Top” rang out as the dancers bounded out onto the stage, taps beating a rhythm to the music. Damn, Mumsie was good.

  Three acts followed, all receiving enthusiastic greetings from the audience. Then it was time for modeling. As there were fewer contestants for Duchess than there had been for the Princess Contest, it went fast but my mouth grew cottony the longer I talked. By the time I interviewed the last girl about her life plans when she grew up and why chicken-fried steak was her favorite food, I’d become desperate for water. I announced the first mid-contest act, gestured to Lyn to take over, and ran to a close concession stand for a cold bottle of water.

  On my way back I saw JT looking at the animals and detoured to see if I could worm any info out of him about yesterday’s murder—like who did it, what did it, what the coroner found. JT wasn’t talking, at least not about the murder. “Sorry, Tali, not for public consumption. Don’t you love the cuddly flop-eared rabbits?”

  “No. I like information that might keep the rest of the moms and kids safe. What do you think is going on? Have you ever seen a body like that one? Don’t you think something strange is going on, and do you really believe Marcia’s husband had anything to do with it? How could he have done it? How could anyone drain a body that quickly, or drain a body, period? Also, what about Karin? She and Marcia certainly weren’t friends.”

  “Tali, don’t you have to get back to the contest before it’s over? After all, you are the emcee. I couldn’t answer all those questions in under an hour anyway and I wouldn’t have made an arrest if I didn’t believe I had a suspect. You’d better go before Laurel comes looking for you.”

  “But, JT, I need to know what’s going on if we’re to get on with the contest and not have any more incidents. I don’t know what to look for, to be on guard for to protect the kids.”

  “The volunteer officers are there to do that very thing. You just concentrate on your job. I’ll take care of mine.”

  I moved back toward the stage but looked over my shoulder. JT still watched me, a frown on his face. What stick was up his butt? Talk about a brush-off. I looked down to watch where I was going and then up toward the stage.

  JT used to trust me a little, and the trust was coming back. But ever since this murder, he’d been different. Was it the murder and the fact I’d been there? Was it Aiden? Could he be jealous? Now I couldn’t answer all my own questions.

  The last entertainer finished and Lyn was motioning to me, frantic that I might not make it back in time. I took another swig from the water bottle, set it down behind the hay bales, and went back up to face the music.

  The first
three girls had chosen the exact same song to sing or lip synch, each one convinced they could do outperform the rest. Or maybe it was their mothers who were positive their child could pulverize the competition. I wasn’t certain how often the audience was willing to hear a song repeated, but we’d see.

  During the third rendition of “Any Man of Mine,” my attention wandered to the dressing rooms. Karin Hataway lounged against the wall talking to some of the kids, laughing. I wondered if it bothered her at all that she’d argued with and threatened Marcia just before she died. She’d be a good suspect too, but if she was, JT wasn’t talking.

  I turned to introduce the next girl, a jazz dancer (read cheerleader wannabe). I turned back to the dressing rooms when I heard loud voices.

  “You should be hung,” shouted Marcia’s daughter, Kimmie Baker. “My dad’s in jail for something he didn’t do when you were the one who threatened my mom. I won’t let you get away with it.”

  Karin yelled right back. “Just because your mother’s dead, you can’t blame it on me. You should be at the funeral home anyway, not hanging around here bothering innocent people. At least you won’t be in the contest, screwing up the chances for the rest of us. I’m a senior this year and it’s my last chance to compete. You have next year.”

  “Mom wanted me to be in that contest and I will be. She worked overtime to help me get a dress.”

  Karin laughed. “You couldn’t afford a dress that would hold a candle to the one I brought back from New York.”

  Kimmie drew back her arm and threw one of the best right crosses I’d ever seen. Karin went down like a felled tree. “You have no idea what my dress is like or what I need to be doing. You need to be locked up before you hurt anyone else.” She turned on her heel and walked off, leaving Karin struggling to get up. The younger girls all moved away, distancing themselves from everything.

  The music had covered most of the yelling, and the audience ignored everything but the kids on stage. You couldn’t blame them. Midway noise, people talking and milling about threw up an effective smoke screen.

  I introduced another contestant and waited for her to bring out all her props for the tumbling routine before I went over to check on Karin. I reached out my hand to help her up but she ignored it. She struggled upright and glared at me as if everything was my fault, then proceeded to storm toward the midway, trailing waves of anger behind her.

  Why was Karin free and Marcia’s husband in jail? Karin was a good suspect, but I kept coming back to what was done to the bodies. There was no way any body would end up looking like that unless they had been buried in lime for a long time, mummified over a hundred years like the Egyptians, whose dry desert air could certainly suck the moisture out of a body.

  Silence dragged me back to the present. Oops. Time to announce the last girl and let the judges do their thing, the girls get changed for trophy accepting, get this contest over with. I hunted for Lyn. She stood flirting with one of the reserve officers as usual.

  I touched her shoulder. “Would you take over again for a couple of minutes? I need to make a call.”

  She looked at me as if she was totally irritated. “Try and make it fast, will you? I have to take care of something myself before the end of the contest.” I handed her the cards for the next couple of acts and went around behind the hay bales to call Mumsie.

  “Hey. I just wanted to let you know I hope to be home within an hour or so.”

  “That’s not what Chung Po says.”

  “Okay. But that’s what I say. You got home in a hurry.”

  “You know me, dance and run.”

  “Can you put together those chicken cups with barbecue sauce so all I have to do when I get home is pop them in the oven and make a salad? The boys like those and I hope Aiden does too.”

  “Good. I’m glad you’re having company. Did you know what those boys are planning?”

  I laughed. “Tell them to behave themselves and no tricks. I don’t want Aiden to find out how crazy our family is until I’ve known him longer. No salt in the sugar bowl. No playing around with insects, snakes or mice. I know how their minds work.”

  Mumsie coughed. “Are you sure you want to expose the guy to both boys at once?”

  “Not much choice. Aiden is invited, Rusty is already over. It will work out okay.”

  “I’ll have things put together before I leave for the monthly harmonic convergence session. You keep an eye on those kids. I’m not sure what’s up their sleeves but I think it bites.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Got to run before Lyn murders me. Remind me to tell you about the fight.”

  I hung up and crossed around the back of the north dressing room, hearing raised voices again.

  “You leave my kid sister out of this,” SueAnn Peacock screeched at Karin. “She hasn’t done anything to you! You are a… a harridan, a fishwife, a damned bitch. Go away and leave us alone or I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Karin snapped. “Put a spell on me like on Charlice’s mom? I know what you are. You shut up or I’ll make sure everyone else does too.”

  I looked at their furious faces and moved in between them, not a great move but reasonable at the time. “Girls, I don’t know what this is all about but we have entertainment going on here. Keep your voices down. Karin, this is the Duchess Contest, not the Queen. You have no business here. Get yourself back to the midway or somewhere else. Don’t harass the little kids.”

  “See, I told you to leave us alone,” SueAnn insisted. “You’re a bully.”

  At that Karin took a swing at the younger girl, missed, and landed a good punch to my right eye. I went down, landing on top of SueAnn, who grunted. Karin had the grace to look shocked before she ran off.

  Lyn showed up. “Tali, why are you lying on top of my kid? Oh my God, look at your eye. Here, give me your hand.” She hauled me up off the ground and helped her daughter up. “Honey, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, Mom. It wasn’t Mrs. Cates fault. It was Kimmie Baker. She was giving us a hard time and accusing us of all kinds of things. She’s real mean.”

  “Don’t you worry about her. You just look pretty for the judges tonight when they award your trophy. Tali, I have to take care of something. The judges are still deciding and the talent is finished. It shouldn’t be long before we can blow this popsicle stand for a couple of hours.”

  I raised an eyebrow, and it hurt. Gee, she was confident SueAnn was going to place in the contest. I felt my eye tighten. Swell. I was sure it would be all kinds of colors just in time for the contest tonight. I had to find an emcee. I had to find ice.

  The soundman had the waiting-music going as the audience discussed who was going to win, should win, shouldn’t win. I went over to the judges, who grew wide-eyed at the sight of me, maybe because of the dirt on my white slacks—or the eye.

  “Alice is tallying the results right now.” Cherilyn shoved a plastic glass of ice in my hand. “Here, if you put this cup of ice against your eye, maybe it will help.”

  I accepted the ice, grinned, and gingerly touched it to the eye. “Ow, ow, ow.”

  “Big baby.” Cherilyn laughed. “Close encounter with an over enthusiastic mom?”

  “No, a Queen contestant.”

  “Only you, Tali. Only you. Call me later and fill me in.”

  “Count on it.”

  She gave me the results and I went out into the middle of the stage.

  I called the girls out for the last round of applause before announcing the winners, starting with the Talent winner, ending with the Duchess winner. As I announced the winner a red flash glared behind and around the hay bales. The audience was clapping and yelling for the winner and the “special effects.”

  Shit, fire! I practically threw the flowers and trophy at the new Duchess and ran around the end of the bales as the audience swarmed the stage. I didn’t see smoke, flame, or signs of fire. I did see a shoe. I stomped over to it, prepared to ream out kids who picked the middle of contest to neck behind the sta
ge.

  It wasn’t kids. It was Karin, or at least her clothes, and she wouldn’t be in the contest. Kneeling next to her were Aiden and Lyn, who both straightened abruptly. I couldn’t see Karin’s face but Aiden’s expression told me everything. The redwood scent that began to suggest evil to me was so strong, it overwhelmed me. Karin’s face, the face of a mummy, an old mummy, not the vibrant girl I’d seen a little while ago. My stomach churned. My chest grew tight. Death had become a contestant and wanted to win.

  Chapter Eleven

  Death again. JT again, looking at me as if everything was my fault. Yellow police tape. Panic in the audience. Scared contestants. Laurel showed up to insist the Queen Contest go on but be held in the auditorium for greater security and would I please assure her no other untoward incidents would mar the contest.

  Between the blooming eye and blossoming headache, I was so ready to go home, grab a bite—if I could eat—and find some sanity. Camera flashes from reporters who were after the winners of the contest and, more doggedly, after pictures of the latest murder, did nothing to help the way I felt. Hopefully Aiden would show up as scheduled. If not, the boys would gobble up everything in sight anyway.

  After I was allowed to leave, I walked back to the library to get my car. I shivered as I looked up at the building, wondering if I’d ever be comfortable in there again. I already dreaded the upcoming contest. The event had been spoiled, soiled by the loss of young women who should have had long lives ahead of them. They shouldn’t die so young, under such outlandish circumstances. Reality had become a page out of a murder mystery.

  I coasted down the street. I liked being in between. In the car I didn’t have to try to answer questions I didn’t want to deal with. Why had Karin hung around the Duchess Contest? Did she have any enemies? Too many. Had she been fighting with anyone? In front of witnesses. Damn and double damn, I was so sick of it. Couldn’t one thing in my life go well, without death, spirits, ghosts, or any other conspiracy theory with paranormal overtones? If murder had to intrude in my life, couldn’t it be a simple Miss Marple-Agatha Christie crime, the maid in the library with a dagger? Then you’d have three obvious killers so you would know the one you least suspected was, of course, the killer.

 

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