Liz Marvin - Betty Crawford 03 - Too Long at the Fair

by Liz Marvin

  Betty didn’t wait for an answer. “Anyway she asked us to leave and normally, as she wasn’t under any suspicion of a crime Bill would have insisted we leave but I knew that she knew what was ailing the contestants and had to try and help them -”

  The policewoman stood up. “Then you should get whatever information the suspect gave you to the appropriate medical personnel as quickly as possible. I’ve taken enough of your time. Thank you for your cooperation.”

  Normally Betty would have continued needling and baiting the obnoxious woman and she would have enjoyed every minute of it but she didn’t have time. Instead she bolted for the door and then for Wes.

  “What’s going on?” She whispered. Police stations, churches, hospitals and theaters always brought out the whisper in Betty.

  Wes spoke up. “Not a thing. Addie won’t stop crying long enough for us to process her and take her mug shots. Clarise has been in there for half an hour and even she can’t help.”

  “Can you do me a favor? Could you take my fingerprints and mug shot too?”

  Wes did a double take. “What? Do I look like I have a death wish? If Clarise doesn’t kill me Bill will and I don’t know which is worse?”

  “Do you want Addie to calm down and stop crying or not?”

  Wes rubbed his chin then ran both hands through his hair. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Take my arm just above the elbow and lead me inside and follow my lead.”

  Wes reluctantly did as instructed. “If this blows up in my face I’m blaming you.”

  “They won’t believe you.” She grinned.

  “I don’t even believe this myself.”

  A guard let them into the conference room. The last time Betty had been in this room she was visiting Clarice when she had been arrested for murder. Now Clarise was seated next to Addie who was sobbing uncontrollably.

  “Hi Addie are they done questioning you yet?”

  Clarise eyed the pair suspiciously but answered for Addie. “They haven’t even started yet. Addie’s still pretty upset. Seems nobody in her family has ever been arrested before.”

  “Oh phooey it’s just a bunch of procedural stuff. They’re not clapping you in irons or anything. I’ve got to go through the same thing and they said we could do it together.”

  Addie bawled even louder. “Now I’ve gone and dragged you down with me!”

  Betty shook free from Wes and pulled Addie to her feet. “You did no such thing. These chuckle heads have just spent half an hour asking me about the wallpaper in your dining room and never once asked about how I slammed into the door and knocked the gun over and set it off.”

  “But that’s - “

  “Now they’ve promised me that we can go through processing together and it looks like that’s fouled up too.”

  Addie wiped her eyes. “What do we - they have to do?”

  “Well I am not entirely sure but Wes has promised it’s painless. Didn’t you process Clarise when she was here?”

  Both Wes and Clarise found something else to look at. Betty really was on a roll and she had no intention of letting up.

  “You’ll probably have to stay here tonight but don’t worry. Clarise is bound to have some clothes that’ll fit you at the theater. We’ll pick some up on the way in tomorrow morning.”

  Clarise was fairly apoplectic. “Umm Betty we’ve gotten rid of most of our old - “

  “Oh don’t. The place is swamped with clothes. All those stores that sent over last year’s underwear and dresses that you will never ever use in a theatrical production. You’ll have to get rid of them somehow!”

  Clarise was doing her best to give Betty the evil eye. Betty ignored her.

  “Come on, Addie. I want to get my picture taken and I don’t want to go alone.”

  Betty offered Addie her hand and she took it. Betty offered her arm to Wes and they left the holding room behind.

  Betty kept the conversation light and kept it going. “Do you think fingerprints will make my hands look fat?” jokes led into debates about how to pose for “portraits” (not mug shots) and in this fashion Betty’s sweet William got the necessary fingerprints and photographs without having Addie crying her eyes out while the pictures were taken. For the last photo she actually smiled.

  “Now I’ll have my picture to go with great great grandma Addie’s!” She said and Betty finagled a promise from Bill that she would get a print.

  By the end of their time together Addie was laughing and Betty was promising to return in the morning with fresh clothes and all the other necessities a woman needs to wake up to. The state and county officers watched with disdain but kept their distance and kept their mouths shut. Bill stayed back too until Wes and Clarise escorted Addie to her cell.

  Clarise was explaining all about the layout and how it was still nicer than her first apartment.

  Bill gave Betty a hug and whispered “I could have sworn the gun went off before you were on the steps.”

  “I’ll swear she didn’t intend to fire the gun and it was me charging up the steps that made it go off and it helps that I really do believe it”. She whispered back.

  Bill looked her in the eye. “And I believe you. Now do you need a ride over to the hospital?”

  “Can you deputize Clarise for the night? We need to pick up some clothes and whatnot for Addie.”

  The left corner of Bill’s mouth threatened a smile. “So there aren’t leftover costumes and donated clothes at the theater?”

  “Oh sure there’s tons of costumes and whatnot but nothing really appropriate unless – Bill you are a genius!”

  She threw her arms around and kissed him and ran out the door. The gathered police men and women tittered. Bill glared at them. “I want her mug shot and fingerprints.”

  Clarise and Wes came in. Bill spoke to both of them. “Betty’s in her car. She has a plan and says I’m a genius. Find out what it is and let me know precisely how and why I am so smart but get her over to the hospital first. I want to know who she talks to and what they say. Any questions?”

  Clarise raised her hand tentatively. “Why is there ink all over the back of your collar?”

  Bill’s face reddened. The other cops in the room quickly found something to do and somewhere else to do it while Wes pulled Clarise toward the door.

  ~

  The hospital was chaotic. Betty recognized some of the men and women as contestants and they appeared weak and shaken but otherwise okay and the hospital was sending them home. Friends and family members either surrounded the admissions desk demanding answers or they surrounded the patients who were being discharged.

  Clarise tugged at Betty’s arm and pointed to a corner where Gladys, dressed in her nurse whites, was talking to a family picking up a barbecue chef and the trio headed for her.

  “So just rest and drink plenty of fluids and you’ll be symptom free in a few days.” Gladys promised.

  “I’ll miss the cooking competition.” The chef grumbled. “People shouldn’t be allowed to cook with toxic ingredients.”

  “And people shouldn’t use other contestant’s supplies without asking first.” Betty said brightly “As for the competition there’s only one contestant left standing and she’s spending the night in jail.”

  “Where she belongs if you ask me!” The man fairly shouted.

  Betty never stopped smiling but she raised her voice in answering. “Oh I’m sure you don’t mean that just as I’m sure she won’t be pressing charges against anyone who took her ingredients without asking and poisoned people with them.”

  The whole room fell silent. Betty didn’t dare look around. She was certain all eyes were on her. She turned to Gladys. “Who told you about the pokeberries?”

  “Bill called me. Said you’d talked to Addie and explained about the water. We had the devil’s own time finding anyone who knew anything about it. Even called the C D C in Atlanta.”

  “Addie says everyone should be okay if they only drank water fr
om the second boil.”

  “Only three cases are spending the night. Thelma and Edna are older and weaker and neither one has family to care for them. Mr. O’Rielly is staying too. Apparently he was tasting everything.”

  A commotion at the entrance as Walter burst in calling “Henry! Henry! Oh where is the poor boy?”

  Betty looked to Clarise who simply rolled her eyes. She turned to Gladys who shook her head. “He never checked in.”

  “I saw him get sick.” Betty said. “He ran from the competition.”

  “Well he didn’t run here. I just hope he didn’t eat too much.”

  The barbecue chef harrumphed. “Henry was tasting everything too. Has a hollow leg like most boys his age.”

  “If he ate a lot…”

  “I can call it in, have somebody check with his dad,” Wes offered, “maybe run by their store and let folks know to keep an eye out for him.”

  “That’s great but can you start with Walter?” Gladys pleaded “This is enough of a scene and we don’t need him adding to it.”

  “Will do.” Wes promised “He was probably the last person to see Henry.”

  Wes was off and Clarise followed him. Betty turned to Gladys. “Could I speak to Achmed and Thelma? It’s about the cooking competition.”

  “Visiting hours are over and in their condition only family is allowed in to see them.”

  “Only family.” Betty repeated and Gladys gave up.

  “Fine. Just keep it short and don’t upset them.”

  Betty slipped down the hall toward the patients’ ward, reading the names on the door. She came to Thelma’s room first.

  Thelma was a small woman but in her present state she looked even smaller. Betty slipped inside and sat down beside her. Thelma opened her eyes and smiled weakly.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Just wanted to check in and see if you’re okay. I think Ira has gone home. Edna is still here and so is Achmed.”

  “So you’re the sole judge now.”

  “No. I have an idea but I need your approval.”

  Thelma looked away. “Nobody needs my approval.”

  Betty looked at the woman who had hectored and embarrassed her and countless others around town for years and finally understood her. “Approval wasn’t the right word. I need your help. I have an idea. Half an idea, really and I don’t know if it will work.”

  Betty stood up. “You know it was the water from Addie’s pie recipe that made you and everyone sick? Thelma nodded. “I want her to wear a dress from a century ago and explain her recipe and tell the story of her great grandmother and the history of the food. Maybe surround her with the Confederate re-enactors.”

  Thelma tried to sit up. Betty helped her. “Would she be declared the winner?”

  “How can she be?”

  “There has to be a contest and there has to be a winner.”

  “Then give it to Marlee May posthumously. Nobody will argue with that.”

  Thelma lay down, thinking. “Then why have the cooking demonstration at all?”

  Betty gestured at the hospital room. “To explain all this.”

  Thelma thought for a while. “And maybe to set up Walter’s big movie announcement? It would get people in a historical mood I suppose. Addie needs the prize money to pay off a tax lien. Oh don’t look surprised I still know something about what goes on in Lofton. Why not give her the money? Danbey Johnson doesn’t need it and he won’t mind.”

  “Would you ask him if he would accept the award for Marlee May?”

  “Why me?”

  “You were Marlee May’s best friend. You know him and all he knows about me is that I beat him in the pie eating contest!”

  Thelma covered her smile with her hand.

  Betty planted her hands on her hips and grinned. “Oh go ahead and laugh. I deserve it.”

  “Well you did make quite a spectacle of yourself. Then again it’s been a year since you’ve eaten any of your aunt’s pastries.”

  “Do you notice everything?”

  Betty slipped from the room.

  She heard Achmed from the hall. He was on the phone. “The competition is over. It’s a disaster. If you ever hear me saying I want to judge another cooking competition lock me in a room until I promise not to!”

  Betty stepped into his room.

  Achmed was propped up in bed by a half dozen pillows. A laptop computer was open and he was typing while he talked into his bluetooth headset. He noticed Betty. “Gotta go.”

  “You’re looking much better.”

  “Thanks, umm, how much did you hear?”

  “Do you mean your rant about Middle Eastern assassins trying to kill you and the rest of us at the fair or your comments about the Lofton cooking competition in particular and cooking competitions in general?”

  Achmed slid down his pillow. “Oh lord. Did you bring any poison cornbread?”

  “Haven’t you heard? Not cornbread. Pokeberries. The good news is the pie is ready and with any luck you’ll be well enough to taste it and assist in a public preparation of another one.”

  “My hearing must still be bad. What’s the good news?”

  “I’ve tasted your food. You take mundane ingredients and make something truly magical but have you ever taken a poisonous weed and turned it into something exquisite? Don’t you want to be a part of that and maybe see how it’s done?”

  Achmed closed his eyes. “No mas. I give up.”

  “Addie will tell the story of her family and this recipe and how it fed them and saved their farm. Clarise will find her a dress from the eighteen hundreds.”

  “I’m not wearing a costume!”

  “Don’t be silly. All you need to do is wear a smile and an apron,” Betty promised, “and maybe one of those cute chef’s hats. You ask questions and she’ll explain everything you could ever want to know about pokeberries and more.”

  Achmed sat up, thinking. He closed his laptop and reached for his phone. “You know this would make an interesting documentary cooking show. When does this happen?”

  “Saturday’s the awards ceremonies and I have to get Addie out of jail.”

  He set the phone down again. “What the hell is she doing in – no! Never mind. I don’t want to know. Just take care of it. I’ll find a camera crew that doesn’t want to kill me and find a network to pick up the tab.”

  “And maybe give Addie enough to pay off her back taxes?” Betty practically bounced in anticipation.

  “You never make things easy do you?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  Achmed nodded “Just tell her we start rehearsing tomorrow morning now get the hell out of here I need to make some more phone calls and get some rest!”

  15. Chapter 14

  Betty saw Mr. Johnson on her way out of the hospital. He was with Clarise and Wes and clearly agitated. He broke free from Wes and Clarise and ran to Betty. “Did you see Marlee May’s purse at Addie’s house?”

  “Yes but I don’t think she took it.”

  “I know she didn’t! Was the photo; was there a photograph with the purse?”

  “Yes it was her great-grandma - great great grandmother.”

  He drew a framed photograph from his pocket. The frame was silver and beautiful. The photograph was perfect and a perfect match for Addie’s. “Did it look like this?”

  “Her photograph was missing the frame and in much worse condition but yes. Danbey what is this about?”

  “This is my great great great aunt. My branch of the family fell out with them after my great great-grandmother, married the son of a rich carpetbagger. My mother was told that branch of the family died out and was gone and that’s what she told me. No one ever spoke of them. Now I know I have a relative. A cousin I never knew.”

  “Who would do this? Who would steal the frame and try to frame Adeline?”

  Betty smiled at the unintentional pun. “Clarise!” Clarise and Wes joined them. “Clarise did you see Addie’s frame?
Wasn’t it black?”

  Clarise thought a moment then nodded. “Yes. Yes it was.”

  Betty studied the frame, looking for a maker’s mark. It was worn from polishing but she could just make out the name GLAZE. “This is old. More than a century and there was a silversmith named William Glaze who worked all through the civil war. Whoever took the frame knew it was silver and worth a lot.”

  “How much is a lot?” Wes asked.

  “I’d have to check, Wesley but it’s worth thousands at least. Somebody knows their antiques or knows how to find out about them. I wonder if I could check with some of my contacts.”

  Betty bought and sold items on the web all the time but she was a generalist. She purchased whatever she could whenever the opportunity arose; her motto being buy cheap and sell dear. Over the past year she had learned where to look for bargains and who to take them to. More important, she had befriended a number of experts who could help her identify and value items. The only question she had was to whom should she turn with an antique silver frame made by a southern silversmith?

  “Can I get a photograph of the picture? Both sides and a close-up of the maker’s mark.”

  “Get me copies too,” Wes chimed in “I’ll get the Staties in on the search.”

  “No!” Betty practically yelled. “I may be contacting somebody who’s in on the theft.”

  “You’ll need to make your search from the station then.” Wes answered. He was serious.

  “This isn’t worth fighting over. We need to get Addie’s costume from the theater.” She smiled at Clarise “Something that matches the one in the photograph.”

  Clarise rolled her eyes. “What have you gotten me into?”

  “A production. You’ll love it. The fair will have its biggest crowd ever, Walter will make his grand announcement, Addie will explain her pie and -”