“Here, we can put some of it under the stroller.” I shoved as much as I could in the basket, leaving the rest for Richard to keep up with. “How much longer are you going to be?”
“Just the ring toss, and the milk bottles. And maybe the—”
“Never mind. I’m going to wander. Don’t forget the costume contest.”
I left Richard to continue proving his manhood, and pushed the still-snoozing Alice on down Game Row, graciously accepting compliments on her behalf. There was a crowd of kids gathered around the milk bottle toss, and I pushed in just far enough to see what the fuss was about.
“Did you see that?” a little boy was saying to another. “That’s seven times in a row.” There was a loud crash. “Eight!”
I peeked over the boy’s head and saw Pudd’nhead Wilson, his feet surrounded by stuffed bears wearing baseball uniforms, and wearing an old-fashioned baseball costume himself. He threw a softball at the only pyramid of metal milk bottles still standing and knocked over every bottle.
“Nine!” the boy said in awe.
Pudd’nhead accepted another bear, then turned around to the kids, counting silently. “That’ll do,” he said to the woman in charge of the booth. Then he started tossing bears to the assembled kids, smiling at their surprised delight. As they ran off to tell their parents, Pudd’nhead caught sight of Alice and me.
“I didn’t see you there. Hold on, and I’ll win that little lady a bear, too.” He started to reach into his pocket.
“Please don’t,” I said. “Richard’s already won enough critters to fill a suitcase, and Alice won’t be able to play with most of them for years.”
“All right, if you’re sure.” He stepped out of the way for a teenage boy waiting to show off his pitching arm to the girl with him.
“That was some throwing,” I said.
“I don’t have the speed or strength I used to,” he said, “but I’ve still got the aim. I’d have done even better if I’d used my lucky ball.” He pulled a battered baseball out of his pocket.
“You carry your own ball?”
“Not all the time, but I figured it went with the costume.” He tossed it up and down a couple of times, then put it back in his pocket. “If I can’t win you a bear, can I at least buy you a drink?”
Since I was still awfully curious about Aunt Maggie’s old flame, I said, “That would be very nice,” and we strolled toward the cafeteria, where refreshments were being served. I knew that having a drink with a suspected poisoner might not have been the brightest move, so I watched very carefully as he got two cups of cider and brought them over, along with a couple of homemade chocolate cupcakes. “I thought you might like something to nibble on, too,” he said. “Do you want the one with the black cat or the pumpkin?”
“Aren’t you sweet? I’ll take the pumpkin.” He handed it over, and I took a bite. “Wonderful.”
“This cider is good, too. Byerly sure knows how to throw a carnival.”
“It’s one of the best things about the town,” I agreed. “How did you find out about it?”
“Are you kidding? There’s a poster for it on every light pole in town.”
“That’s right; my cousin Vasti was in charge of advertising this year. She does things thoroughly.”
“I saw it in the paper, too. When I used to be on the road all season, I picked up the habit of reading the local paper wherever I went. It’s the best way to get to know a town. If I’ve got time, I even go to the library to check out back issues.”
“What did the paper tell you about Byerly?” I said.
“That it’s a not a bad little town. Maybe a little behind the times, and not the best place to be a stranger, but it’s got a good heart.”
“That sounds fair. It was a nice place to grow up.”
“Do you want another cupcake?” he asked as I finished mine.
“No, thanks,” I said, wiping the icing off my mouth. “You aren’t trying to get to Aunt Maggie through me, are you?”
“I’d do it in a heartbeat if I thought it would work,” Pudd’nhead said without a trace of embarrassment, “but I know I struck out there.” He shook his head sadly. “Fact is, I never even made it to bat, and I’ve got nobody to blame but myself.”
“It must have been quite a shock,” I said, “coming here and finding out Aunt Maggie was already married.”
“Not really. I never thought a woman like her would end up alone.”
“Still, the timing was bad.”
“You mean her just being married? That did give me pause. I mean, what brand-new husband would want his wife’s old boyfriend to come calling?”
“Is that why you didn’t go see her? So you wouldn’t intrude on the happy couple?”
“That’s part of it.”
I didn’t say anything else, just drank cider while he made up his mind.
Finally, he said, “All I really had in mind was visiting her, seeing how things had turned out for her. Then I saw in the paper that she’d just married Big Bill Walters, and how there was going to be a big party, so I went and bought me a suit so I could sneak in. I was planning to ask Maggie to dance or something, just to surprise her. But then I saw her…” His voice trailed off.
“And?”
“And I realized I was just as in love with her as I ever was, and that I was an idiot for leaving her all those years ago, and that there was no way I could go up to her and make small talk when what I really wanted was to convince her to leave her husband and run away with me.” He swigged down his cider as if he wished it were something a lot more potent.
I felt so bad for him, but there wasn’t a darned thing I could say to comfort him. Especially not when I’d been feeling sorry for Big Bill being jealous just two days before. “I’ve always known that Aunt Maggie was a remarkable woman, but for her to have two amazing men in love with her just proves it.”
“Thank you, Laurie Anne.” He took a deep breath and said, “Anyway, that’s why I didn’t talk to her at the party. I might eventually have drummed up enough courage if I’d gotten another couple of beers in me, but then Walters got sick, and what with my being a gate-crasher, I thought it would be best if I took off.” He looked sheepish. “I guess that looked kind of suspicious.”
“A bit. You might want to explain that to the police.”
“Probably, but I’m guessing you already told them about me.”
“Why would you think that?” I said carefully.
“Because of what I found in the back issues of the Byerly Gazette. I went all the way back to the end of last year and read about you and your husband solving the killing at the Christmas pageant. The article said you two had done that kind of thing before. ‘Byerly’s Leading Sleuths,’ the reporter called you.”
“That sounds like Hank Parker.” My aunts made a point of sending us all our clippings, but Hank was so effusive that I felt odd reading them, so I mostly just stored them away.
“After I realized that somebody had tried to kill Maggie and Walters, I guessed you’d be going after the guy, and decided to tag along in case you got into trouble. I might be old, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t help if the need arose.”
“And wouldn’t Aunt Maggie have been impressed,” I speculated.
He grinned. “That thought did cross my mind.”
I should have been taking note of the fact that Pudd’nhead was still avoiding the police, but all I could think of was how lonely he must be. “Why don’t you just talk to her? She won’t bite you—she might bark, but she almost never bites.”
“I want to. That’s the only reason I’m still hanging around Byerly.”
“She’s here at the carnival, you know. Over at the white elephant sale.”
“I was there when she opened up shop.”
“And?”
“And she tried to sell me an old suitcase, said it might come in handy if I wanted to leave town.”
“Ouch.”
He shrugged. “I don’t bla
me her. She’s made a life for herself, and she doesn’t need me around. It’s just that… I just can’t seem to leave town until I get a chance to explain. And once you caught me following you, I’ve been kind of at loose ends.”
Like the ghost at the feast, I thought to myself.
“Laurie Anne, can I ask you a question?” Pudd’nhead said.
“Sure.”
“Does Walters love her?”
“Yes, he does,” I said without hesitation.
“And she loves him?” He shook his head. “No, don’t bother to answer. Maggie would never marry a man she didn’t love.”
A voice came over the loudspeaker to announce that the costume contest was going to start in a moment. “Shoot, I better get over there. Richard is in the contest.”
“You go on. I sure appreciate you talking to me.”
“And I appreciate the cupcake.”
Pudd’nhead was smiling when I pushed Alice out of the cafeteria, but he was still alone.
Tavis and the other carnival organizers had wisely divided the costume contest into divisions. First came the little kids, all of whom got some sort of award, whether they were wearing a ragged bed sheet, an expensive Cinderella dress from the Disney Store, or a robot costume clearly built by the proud papa standing in the wings. Once those awards were given out, the kids could return to the rides and games or, in the case of the real young ones, go home to bed.
Next were the older kids, and there were still lots of ribbons given out, but with a distinction between homemade and store-bought costumes. The clear preference was for costumes the kids made themselves.
Finally, the adults got their turn, and it was a treat to see grownups strutting across the stage. The triplets brought the house down with three famous witches: the evil queen from Snow White, Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty, and the Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz. Uncle Roger and Aunt Ruby Lee were bedecked in sequined appliqués as Porter Waggoner and Dolly Parton, though I thought I recognized the song Roger was strumming as a Hawaiian tune from Brother Iz.
Finally, Richard came out in all his glory, with a spotlight enhancing the effect of the costume and his lordly demeanor. There were plenty of Burnettes in the auditorium to provide encouragement, but we weren’t the only ones clapping, not by a long shot. He was a clear choice for first place, but we didn’t find out until much later that he’d won, because my cell phone went off just as he was coming off the stage.
I’d set it on “vibrate,” to make sure I wouldn’t miss it, and had to put a hand over one ear to hear the voice on the phone.
“Hello?”
“Laurie Anne?”
“Big Bill? What’s wrong?”
“Somebody’s after me, Laurie Anne. Somebody’s in the house.”
“Have you called Junior?” I demanded.
There was no answer—the phone had gone dead.
Chapter 24
I immediately dialed the Byerly police department.
“Junior Norton here.”
“Junior, something’s wrong over the Walters—”
“I’m already on the way.” Only then did I hear the siren and other background noises that told me Junior was in the car. “I’ll call when I know something.”
“But—” The line went dead again.
I looked up. Richard was nearly to my seat, having been delayed by people congratulating him. When he saw my face, he ignored the high fives being offered to get to me faster.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Big Bill called. He said somebody’s after him. We’ve got to get Aunt Maggie and get over there.” Then I looked down at Alice, who’d finally woken up and was playing with her feet, oblivious to us.
“I’ve got Alice,” Richard said. “Go!”
I stayed just long enough to kiss him before running down the aisle, dodging witches and genies. A small part of my brain took in the fact that Burt was on stage, meaning he wasn’t the one trying to kill Big Bill, and as I passed through the crowd, I saw Dorcas, too.
I don’t know how I made it to the school library without falling flat on my face or bowling over little children, but I did it. Aunt Maggie was making change for a gypsy when I got there.
“Aunt Maggie, Big Bill’s in trouble,” I said.
She asked no questions, just dropped the change she was counting out and went with me, Bobbin following along. Augustus looked curious but stepped in to take her place at the cash drawer.
“What’s happening?” Aunt Maggie asked as we wove our way through the Halloween revelers.
“I don’t know. He just said that somebody was after him. Then the phone hung up. I called Junior, but she was already on the way.”
“At least he had enough sense to call her first.”
By then we were at the parking lot.
“My car’s closer,” Aunt Maggie said, and tossed me the keys.
It was a good thing, because in the state I was in, I don’t know that I would even have remembered what Richard’s and my rental car looked like.
We threw ourselves into the front seat and shot out of the parking lot. I thanked God that it wasn’t actually Halloween night, so I didn’t have to worry about trick-or-treaters as I drove through Byerly’s streets like a Boston cab driver who’d been offered a wicked big tip. I barely slowed down at stop signs and paused only briefly at the red light I passed under. At one point, I glanced at Aunt Maggie. Her face was a study in determination, and I knew that if Big Bill was dead, it was going to take Junior and me both to keep her away from his killer.
I was vaguely aware of sirens blaring through the night, but it wasn’t until I made it up the Walterses’ driveway and slammed on the brakes that I realized that more cops than Byerly had were involved. I recognized squad cars from Rocky Shoals and Hickory, and it was a state trooper who came to the door of the car.
“You’re going to have to move that car out of here,” he said.
“Her husband is in there,” I said. “She’s Big Bill’s wife.”
“I don’t care who…” he started to say, but amended it to, “I’m sorry, but the house isn’t secure.” As if to prove his point, we heard gunshots thundering. “You’ve got to get back!”
“Move the car, Laurie Anne,” Aunt Maggie said in a deadly calm voice. “There’s nothing else we can do now.”
I backed the car down the driveway and parked on the street. As we watched, another state police cruiser raced up the driveway.
“Should we call anybody?” I asked.
“Not until we know something,” she answered in that same awful voice.
“Aunt Maggie, are you…?”
“I’m waiting, Laurie Anne. That’s all I can stand to do right now.” Bobbin, sitting on the floor at her feet, whined softly and licked her hands, and though Aunt Maggie scratched the dog’s ears in response, she didn’t look down at her. Instead, she stared at the little bit of the house we could see, as police with flashlights swarmed all over. There was nothing I could say, but I reached over and took her hand.
We didn’t hear any more gunshots, and I honestly didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. After maybe ten minutes, an ambulance pulled into the driveway, and Aunt Maggie’s grip on my hand tightened enough to hurt. I was about to ask her if she thought we should try to go to the house, when my cell phone rang, making both of us jerk.
“Hello?”
“Laurie Anne, where are you?” It was Junior.
“We’re at the house, at the end of the driveway. They wouldn’t let us come any farther.”
“Sorry about that. Nobody told me you were here. I’ll come meet you at the front door.”
“Is Big Bill…?”
“Just come on up and I’ll tell you what I can.”
I hung up and stuffed the phone into my pocket. “Junior wants us to meet her.”
“Stay,” Aunt Maggie ordered Bobbin, and the two of us got out of the car and walked toward the house.
Even thoug
h the cops we saw were all still moving around, they didn’t have the same edge, and I knew that whatever had happened was over. Junior was on the front porch, but before we could get to her, she stepped aside for the ambulance attendants to carry a stretcher past her. Even as far away as I was, I could see the blood on the figure on the stretcher, and I stopped, not wanting to see any more.
“That’s not Bill,” Aunt Maggie said calmly, and kept going, so I followed her. As we got closer, I saw she was right. There was an oxygen mask over the man’s face, but I could still see enough to recognize him.
“It’s Crazy Sandie,” I said, then regretted calling him that. “Sandie Herron.” His eyes were closed, and the green camouflage T-shirt he was wearing was in tatters from where it had been cut off for the attendants to work on him. In addition to the mask, he had an IV in one arm and a blood-pressure cuff on the other, and the bandages pressed onto his chest were saturated with blood. Just as they passed us, I noticed the tattoo on one arm. It was mostly covered by the cuff, but I saw part of the first letter and the surrounding heart, enough to realize what it was. Sandie had Mother needled into his skin.
“Y’all can come in now, but you’re going to have to watch where you step,” Junior said. There was blood on her crisp uniform and black boots, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t hers.
We followed her inside, and my stomach clenched when I saw another body on the floor just in front of the staircase. This one was covered by a sheet, with more blood seeping through the cloth. It’s not that blood smells bad, exactly, but because some part of my brain knew there should never be that much spilled, I didn’t even want to breathe.
Aunt Maggie was staring at the body, looking as pale as the unstained parts of the sheet.
“Aunt Maggie?” I said, gently touching her back.
She looked at me, tears running down her face. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Bill said the house was safe. I wouldn’t have gone to the carnival if I hadn’t thought he’d be safe.” She turned back to the body. “It’s not Bill, is it, Junior?”
“No, ma’am, it’s not,” Junior told her. “It’s Irene Duffield. I’m guessing Herron shot her to get to Big Bill.”
Toni L.P. Kelner - Laura Fleming 08 - Wed and Buried Page 19