Shadows at the Fair

by Lea Wait

  Dealer vans and trucks were parked in three haphazard lines along the field. She could see figures moving near the vans, but it was too dark to make out who they were.

  “Hey, you’re Maggie Summer, aren’t you?” She jumped as a deep voice came from beside the dark van on her right. “I thought someone told me you were staying in comfort with the motel crowd!”

  Will Brewer, the new dealer from across the aisle, stepped out of a shadow.

  Kindly women might have called him a teddy bear, complete with beard and slight beer belly.

  Maggie hesitated. Lydia had whispered to her that Will was a nice fellow; she’d done shows with him before. Until recently he’d taught woodworking at a private school in western New York State and spent weekends traveling to antiques shows. He was now trying to make the antiques business a full-time job.

  Maggie hadn’t had time to more than wave at him before the reception started.

  But clearly he remembered her.

  And she was glad he was there. The more the merrier.

  “And this is?” Will looked at Ben. “I got in late this afternoon, but I think I saw you helping to set up.”

  Ben nodded.

  “This is Ben Allen. He’s Gussie White’s assistant. We are staying in the Kabins across the street, but…” Maggie was torn. Will seemed like a nice guy, but she didn’t know how this would turn out. On the other hand, if there was a problem, she could probably use some help. Ben was trying hard, but this was a situation far from his normal world, and she wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to cope.

  He was shaking slightly as they stood in front of the GENTLEMEN sign.

  Maggie looked over his shoulder and saw Vince talking with someone over by the exhibit building.

  “Ben was running on the track, in the back of the rest rooms, and he—he left his jacket back there. So we came to see if we could find it.”

  Maggie hoped Ben wouldn’t say anything. She’d just told another falsehood, but she couldn’t tell the truth. It sounded too far-fetched.

  She took a quick sidelong glance. Will was an attractive man. What was she thinking! This was not the moment to revive hormones best left dormant.

  “It’s pretty dark back there. Mind if I walk over with you?” Will just naturally turned them toward the track. “Lydia Wyndham told me about your husband, Maggie. Sorry. Must be rough.”

  Lydia must really have been talking.

  “Yes, it’s a hard time.”

  He nodded. “After my wife died, I kept thinking I saw her everywhere, even though I knew, of course, that she was gone. It was as though a big piece of the puzzle of my life was missing.” Will paused for a moment, but Maggie remained silent. “So, Ben, where exactly did you leave this jacket of yours?”

  Ben looked at Maggie in panic.

  “Didn’t you say you were just coming off the track when you dropped it?” Maggie said.

  Ben half nodded.

  “Then it must be somewhere near the entrance to the track.” They walked past the rest room buildings, past the picnic tables set up for tomorrow’s concession-stand customers, and turned left onto the path to the track.

  Tomorrow this area would be full of prospective customers. Tonight it was quiet, despite the sounds of people settling in for the night. Dealers were sitting around two of the picnic tables. Several people were playing cards in the dim light and had tuned in the evening news on a small portable TV, and another group was talking and drinking beer. Between the vans and the cars people stood and talked, and occasionally you’d hear the sound of a laugh, or of a car door closing. A radio. A couple of people looked up and nodded as they walked past.

  It’s another world, Maggie thought. She had never considered staying on the fairgrounds; a soft bed and a private shower had always been important to her. And women by themselves did not generally stay on the grounds. The atmosphere had changed dramatically from that of an hour or so ago, when everyone was dressed up and entertaining customers. Now it felt more like a late-night neighborhood barbecue.

  Except that she and Ben were in search of a body, not an extra bag of chips or ice cubes.

  Ben touched Maggie’s sleeve. “We have to go behind the buildings, toward the track.” The backs of the buildings were vented, but had no doors or windows. The buildings themselves blocked the light.

  “That’s a funny place to leave a jacket, young man.” Will looked doubtful as Ben pointed to their left. “How did you even get onto the track? The gates are shut.”

  Ben turned around and pointed at the gates. “I’m not very big, and the gates are loose. I squeezed between the doors and the fence. That’s how I got on and off the track to practice. I’m a good runner. I ran good tonight. Mud usually slows me down.”

  “Where was the—jacket?” Maggie looked from side to side, but in the dim light she couldn’t see anything on the ground larger than two crushed soda cans, a partially eaten hot dog roll, and a few pieces of crumpled paper that had blown near the gate.

  Ben walked off the pavement across a few yards of grass toward the back of the rest room building.

  “Over here.” He gestured toward an area where a landscaper had planted some trees and bushes in an obvious attempt to add some country atmosphere to the otherwise treeless fairgrounds. Maggie could identify two or three white pines, at least one sugar maple, and several large azalea bushes whose pink flowers glowed eerily in the half-light.

  Michael would have known all of these plants, she thought as she instinctively identified the shrubbery. Michael had loved gardening. But Michael wouldn’t have been looking for a body late at night on a New York State fairgrounds.

  Ben was a few feet ahead of her, searching the ground.

  “I’m sure he was here! I really am sure! I came out of that gate, and I ran about ten or twelve steps, and it was dark here…”

  “He?” Will came up behind them. “Ben, I don’t see a jacket here. Who is ‘he’?”

  The light from the buildings ended several feet from where the three of them were now standing. No dead or injured bodies were to be seen.

  “I’m sure he was here! I’m sure!”

  Maggie sighed. Will looked at her, waiting for her response.

  “When Ben was leaving the track, he thought he saw two people back here.”

  “I did! I saw that pretty lady in a green dress, and I saw a man. And they were really yelling!” Ben looked at Will. “I saw them! And I ran up because I thought he was going to hit the lady. And I pushed him. And he fell down. He was lying on the ground. And he didn’t get up. I tried to help him.” He thrust his hand in front of Will. “See? I have blood on my hand!”

  “Whoa, just a minute. Young man, are you telling me you hit someone? And then you two came out here by yourselves to see if a man covered with blood was lying on the ground?”

  Maggie and Ben nodded.

  “And what did you have in mind to do if you’d found this…man?”

  “I didn’t really lose my jacket, sir. I’m really careful with my jacket.”

  “I’m sure you are. But not so careful about knocking people down!”

  “But he was going to hit the lady! I know he was! And I wanted to help the lady.” Ben’s face showed his distress. “I’m telling the truth! I wanted to help! I didn’t mean to hurt him, really! And Maggie made up the story about the jacket. I didn’t lose my jacket.”

  Will tried hard not to smile as he looked again at Maggie, who was subtly trying to survey the area to see if anything looked disturbed.

  “Ladies sometimes say funny things, don’t they?”

  “Why didn’t I think to bring a flashlight?” Maggie bent down and looked at the ground. “Ben, are you sure this is where the man fell?”

  “Yes. At least I think so. It had to be here. But he’s not here now.”

  Will shook his head. “I don’t believe we’re having this conversation. Maggie Summer, are you crazy? What if there had been a man here who was injured. Or worse? And
just you and Ben to cope.”

  Maybe Will was being sexist. Or maybe he was just being nice. Well, she could play the game, too.

  “But nothing happened. And you’re with us, Will. And there are no bodies. In this light, and on this mud and grass, there’s no way to see anything clearly now.” She turned to Ben. “Maybe whoever it was just fell down. He had the breath knocked out of him, and after you left, he just got up and walked away.” She looked again at the area. If there had been a man here, he wasn’t here now. She gave Ben’s shoulder a squeeze. “He probably just picked himself up and went back to wherever he came from. How long did you stay here after you pushed him?”

  “I didn’t stay. I was scared. I ran to get you and Aunt Gussie.”

  “Then he’s probably fine. You may not have shoved him as hard as you thought, and he’s walking around wondering how he’s going to explain a bruised shoulder.” Maggie turned to Will for confirmation. “Don’t you agree?”

  “If anyone fell down here, then he’s gone now; that’s for sure. Are you certain you didn’t fall yourself, Ben? And maybe cut your hand?”

  “No! There was a man lying there.”

  “You’re sure you don’t know who he was?” Maggie asked.

  “He just looked ordinary. He had light hair, I think. And he was taller than I am. Just like most of the dealers. And old. Like you and Aunt Gussie.”

  Will grinned. “Well, that clinches it, Ben. You don’t lie.”

  Maggie glared at him before turning back to Ben.

  “Like the dealers? Do you think he was a dealer?”

  “He wore one of those tags with his name on it that dealers have. Like the one you have on.”

  Maggie glanced down at the tag that read RENSSELAER COUNTY SPRING ANTIQUES FAIR—MAGGIE SUMMER—SHADOWS. Everyone who worked at the show had one. Dealers had blue badges; security guards had red badges; Vince and the porters he had hired to set up the booth walls and help customers and dealers load and unload vehicles had green badges.

  “Did you notice what color badge he wore?” If the man had a badge on, it meant he had some role in the antiques fair. He wasn’t just someone who had wandered onto the grounds. If Ben had noticed the color of the badge, the list of possible suspects would be narrowed.

  Ben shook his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t look at it. I just saw it was there.”

  Maggie nodded. It was dark enough over here that colors were indistinct. Well, there was one way to know for sure. Maggie hesitated and clicked the dial light on her watch. They had a few minutes left before Officer Taggart would close the gates. And she would rest a lot better tonight if she knew everything was all right. Even more important, so would Ben and Gussie.

  “Are you sure the woman you saw was the same woman you saw at the Show Management booth today?”

  Ben nodded. “Yes; the pretty woman. She had on a fancy green dress tonight.”

  It must have been Susan. “Well, let’s see if we can find her, and maybe she can explain what happened.”

  “Aunt Gussie said not to bother her again. I went back too many times for coffee this afternoon.”

  “We won’t bother her. I’ll explain it to Gussie. We just want to make sure everything is all right.”

  Will stepped in. “That sounds like a good idea. Ben, would you mind if I came along with you and Maggie to try to find that pretty woman?”

  “No; it’s okay with me,” Ben responded seriously. “I’d like to find the dead man, too.”

  Chapter 11

  Arabian—Illumination of Manuscripts, German chromolithograph, c. 1880, one of a set displaying modes of decorative arts in various areas of the world. Elaborate maze designs in blues and oranges. Price: $60.

  Susan and Harry had sometimes stayed at the motel, sometimes at the fairgrounds. But Maggie was sure she’d seen their van parked near the “overnighters” and hoped Susan was using it, not Harry. Susan seemed to be running the business this weekend, even if Harry was buying out her part of it.

  Will answered Ben’s look. “I agree with Maggie. If the lady was at Show Management this afternoon and had on a green dress tonight, then I think the lady you saw is Susan Findley.”

  Maggie nodded. “Her van is blue, with New York license plates.”

  “Let’s see if we can find it.”

  They walked back toward the parking lot.

  Maggie scanned the first row of vans; there was a blue van, but it was from Montana. She remembered that dealer. He specialized in Native American jewelry and blankets.

  They crossed through the line of parked vehicles, past a red RENTALS ARE US truck and a green, dented minivan, toward the second line. As she passed the truck, Maggie almost bumped into Lydia, who was carrying a flashlight focused on the ground in front of her, and a towel and toilet kit. “Oh—sorry!”

  “Maggie! Are you camping out this show?” Lydia looked around, as though Maggie’s van would materialize in front of her. “And Will. And Ben!” Lydia was obviously trying to think of a reason that particular trio would be looking over dealers’ vans and trucks at ten-twenty at night.

  Maggie ignored the obvious questions in Lydia’s eyes. “No. I’m across the street at the Kabins. We’re”—Maggie nodded at Ben and Will—“looking for Susan Findley. Do you know where she’s parked?”

  “I think I saw her van over toward the far fence. I haven’t seen her. I did see Harry after the show closed, though. He was over by the entrance to building two, where we unloaded today. I think he was talking to Vince.” Lydia shook her head sagely. “Strange things happening, that’s for sure. And policemen around. But better safe than sorry, that’s what I always say.”

  For sure, thought Maggie. “Thanks! We’ll head over toward the fence and see if we can find her.” She looked back at Will, who was following a step or so behind with a bemused expression on his face.

  “Will, you don’t have to stay with us, if you have something to do.”

  Will just grinned again and caught up with her. “And miss all this excitement? Here I thought I’d be cozying up to a cognac and a sleeping bag tonight. And now I’m given the chance to aid a lady and her squire with a quest! How could I turn down an opportunity like that?” He looked at Ben. “We’re looking for a pretty lady who had an argument with a light-haired old man. Right?”

  Ben nodded.

  “Susan Findley is striking, that’s for sure.”

  Maggie remembered seeing Will talking with Susan during the preview. “Do you know the Findleys?”

  “I’ve run into them before. Susan certainly doesn’t lack for conversation.”

  That didn’t exactly answer her question. Maggie wondered how well Will did know Susan. She fought back a blush as she realized she’d had an involuntary flash of jealousy. Lady, take it easy.

  They passed three men Maggie didn’t recognize, all of them wearing dealer’s tags.

  “When the stock market’s up customers buy,” the tall man in the windbreaker said, dropping his cigarette on the ground and grinding it into the mud with his heel. “Always.”

  “Not for me.” A man in a blue poncho with long, braided gray hair disagreed. “I figure, when the stock market’s down, that’s when people invest in antiques. They can’t lose money on something with age.”

  “To a point. I never understood why people pay thousands of dollars for new furniture that’s going to be used and worthless tomorrow when they could invest in good eighteenth-or even nineteenth-century furniture that usually becomes more valuable. Built better than the modern stuff, and when you get tired of it, you can call me back and I’ll take it off your hands.”

  “We’re the ultimate recyclers, John. Finding value in what other generations have discarded.”

  “Well, I’d still rather invest in some good Chippendale than in those Barbie dolls your cousin Jack is hawking!” They all laughed.

  “But he’s making a darn good living. How many pieces of Chippendale have you sold this year?”

 
; Maggie kept going. The perennial debates. Value versus investment. Collectibles versus antiques. Quality versus commercial popularity. It was all part of the business.

  “Maggie, isn’t it getting late? Aunt Gussie will be worried.”

  “Ben, you’re right. We’ll just see if Susan is at her van, and then we’ll get back to the motel.” She glanced at her watch: 10:25.

  Susan’s van was the last one in the row over by the fence, as Lydia had said. It was faded sky blue, with a large dent in the left side, and New York license plates. No vanity plates or business logo for Manhattan dwellers. They’d be advertisements for car thieves.

  The van looked empty, or as though the person inside had retired for the night. Maggie walked all the way around, listening for voices. She really didn’t want to disturb Susan if she was sleeping.

  “Okay, Ben, I think we call it a night. All is quiet here. Let’s head back and assure your aunt Gussie that you’re not a murderer. Will, thanks for your help.”

  Ben breathed an audible sigh. “And we’ll see if the pizza’s still warm?”

  “I don’t have any pizza, warm or otherwise, but I do have some terrific salami and ham and cheese in a cooler, and there’s enough cognac for two, and some soda for you, Ben, if you’d like to visit my home away from home,” Will said.

  “Thanks! Actually, the cognac sounds nice…but Gussie is waiting for us, and the police will be closing the gates. Tomorrow morning and, I hope, customers will arrive faster than we think.” Maggie tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and smiled up at Will. Maybe he was lonely, too. And he seemed nice enough. But she had other obligations.

  “Maybe a rain check, then. But let me be a gentleman of the old school and escort the two of you back to the gate. You have to go through some dark areas to get there.” Will fell into step with Maggie. They walked companionably away from the last rows of trailers and vans, headed diagonally toward the entrance.