by Peggy Dulle
“Don’t bother, I think we’ll have plenty of help in … ,” I glanced at my watch. It certainly had been long enough for them to find me.
Four men and two woman bust through the front door. They all had their guns out. They hollered, “FBI” and all the women just screamed. It was chaos!
Doc looked at me.
“Long story,” I said.
“You can tell me later.” Doc stood and the agent in front pointed his gun at him. Doc held up his hands and said, “I’m Doctor Sanders and these ladies called me when they found the body. I’m the city coroner, too.”
“Is there anyone else here?” The woman agent asked as the other agents took off to check the rest of the building.
“Nope,” Sheryl Ann said. “Just me, the women who were helping me cook for the luncheon, the Doc, Liza and Ray Jenkins’ body. Who are you looking for?”
The woman looked at me, then talked into her sleeve again.
The front man came forward. He was a tall, lean man with a clean shaven face which sported a serious frown. He was probably disappointed that I didn’t lead him directly to my dad.
“My name is Agent Brown. Is there anything you need from us here?”
“Not really. I was just about to call the county sheriff’s department.”
“You don’t have your own police department?” he asked.
“Not really,” Doc repeated himself and then added, “We’ve got a security officer and a few volunteers.”
“I’ve got a full team only a few minutes away if you want us to do the work.”
Doc glanced at me and then asked, “Why do you have a forensic team here?”
“That’s on a need to know and you don’t need to know. Do you want the help or not?”
“Sure, send your people in,” Doc told him.
Agent Brown took a cell phone out of his jacket pocket and spoke quickly and precisely into it. “Got a dead body at the Saddle Club, send the team.”
“How long is this going to take?” Sheryl Ann asked.
“Two minutes to get here, thirty to forty-five to bag, tag and photograph everything.”
“I’ve got two hundred people coming to lunch in ninety minutes, so this place needs to be set up and ready by then.”
Sheryl Ann and her cooking ladies went back to the kitchen.
“I need to make the notification to the family,” Doc said, gathering his medical bag from the floor.
“That’s fine,” Agent Brown said. “We will need a full statement for the report but we can get it later.”
The other agents came back and shook their heads at Agent Brown.
Agent Brown looked at me and said, “Can I talk to you outside, Miss Wilcox?”
“Do I need a lawyer?” I questioned. If I had learned anything from television and my dad, ask for a lawyer first before you talk to anyone.
“No, we just want to ask a few questions.”
“I don’t know the man who is dead on the floor,” I told him, even though I knew exactly what he wanted.
“It’s about another matter.”
“Then I think I do need a lawyer,” I looked at Doc Sanders. “Do you have one in this town?”
“Sure, Priscilla is a lawyer.”
“Call her, please.”
Doc dug his phone out of his pants pocket.
“That’s not necessary, Miss Wilcox. We’ve just got a few questions,” Agent Brown said.
I crossed my arms across my chest and shook my head.
“She’s not talking to you without a lawyer, gentlemen,” Doc said, ever the gallant protector of a supposedly pregnant woman. “So either wait for the lawyer or stop bothering her.”
Agent Brown actually huffed, then turned on his heels and stormed out of the Saddle Club.
“Oh,” Doc muttered. “I can’t wait to hear this story.”
Before I could even start, a group of five people came into the club. They never spoke to us but busied themselves as they numbered things, took pictures, and carted the body away. It was all done in thirty minutes.
Doc left to make the notification, telling me not to lift any tables.
I got some bleach from the kitchen and cleaned up the blood, then used some antibacterial spray, just in case. Esther came with a spray bottle of vanilla and doused the entire room. It smelled like a hospital where all the nurses and patients decided to wear vanilla perfume all on the same day. It made me nauseous, but Sheryl Ann and her helpers deemed it passable.
Two of the ladies’ husbands showed up a few minutes later. Together we set up the eight tables for the vendors around the perimeter of the hall, a rectangular head table with ten seats and twenty round tables with ten chairs in the eating area.
At 10:30, the vendors started to arrive to set up their wares. There were so many wonderful things. I felt very patriotic after the parade, so I bought a soft red blanket embroidered with “Freedom Isn’t Free,” a set of long dangling blue earrings, and a beautifully woven hanging basket. Maybe I could get Tom to set up a drip system for the plant I would put in it. With my black thumb, it wouldn’t last a week. I always forget to water them or overwater them – there is no happy medium.
The women started to arrive at 11:00. They went directly to the vendor tables. Priscilla arrived without Doc, who was probably with the Jenkins family. She was dressed in a blue jean skirt, a white off-the-shoulder ruffled shirt, and casual sandals with white daisies across the top strap. She wandered through the vendors, saying “hello” and hugging people. Why is it that women can’t shake hands with each other, they’ve always got to hug one another?
I went into the kitchen to see if I could help. Sheryl Ann barked orders to her ladies like a general going to war. She was serving the basics – steak, baked potatoes, corn-on-the cob, garlic bread, and salad with peach cobbler for dessert. Several servers came in through the back door.
“Liza!” Sheryl Ann shouted.
“Yes?” I replied, stepping forward and at attention.
“Get your servers out helping the vendors. At exactly 11:25, they should get back by the door to the kitchen. We’ll serve up the food and they can take it out to the ladies.”
Organizing the cowboys was like getting my kindergartners to get to work. I assigned one cowboy to each vendor and then sent the rest wandering through the tables making sure the ladies all had something to drink and to sell raffle tickets. Every woman had a smile on her face like the Cheshire cat. I would have to agree. The cowboys were young, and buff and each strutted around like a peacock in heat. I assigned the most handsome ones the job of enticing the ladies to buy raffle tickets for the grand prize, which was a seat in the announcer’s box during the rodeo.
At exactly 11:25, all the servers stopped what they were doing and returned to the kitchen door, except a few who I had to send runners after. There are always a few stragglers you have to gather up.
Sheryl Ann would hand a tray holding four lunches and I assigned a cowboy to take them to a particular table. When one table was fed, I would send them off to the next. When all the ladies were served, I sent them out again to refill drinks and pull empty plates.
I wandered through the tables catching glimpses of conversation.
“Where’s Grace?” The woman sitting next to Priscilla Banner asked.
“She’s visiting her lawyer,” Priscilla scoffed.
“She still fighting you on that trust fund issue?” another woman at the table asked.
“Yes, and I just don’t understand why she can’t wait a few more years. She’s got plenty of money so she doesn’t need her trust fund.”
“That man probably needs it.”
“She’s still seeing him?”
“Yeah and he’s old enough to be her father!” Priscilla spit out.
“I’m sure it’s just Grace. She’s always been independent.”
“No, Grace just likes to be in control,” the first woman said.
“Don’t we all?” Priscilla asked.
/> The woman at the table laughed and nodded in agreement.
At another table, three women were discussing the cancer cluster.
“My son was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s cancer last week,” a woman with graying hair, stout body, and high shrill voice told her tablemates.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Denise. It’s just like my daughter,” a woman about the same age but leaner and with a better beautician said. Her hair was a beautiful auburn color.
“We’ve got to get out of this town before we’re all sick or dead!” Denise said.
“Yeah, but Priscilla says it’s all crap,” a third woman finally chimed in. “She’s had all the water, soil and air tested and there aren’t any toxins that might be causing the cancer.”
“Who cares, Lori? I’m still getting out,” Denise said. “I’ve got three more sons and I’m not watching them all get sick and die.”
“I’m not giving up the only home I’ve every owned. If we move away, we’re going to have to rent and I’m not moving into a tiny apartment with my two toddlers. And what am I supposed to do about my three little dogs? I’m not giving them up, either,” Lori told her.
I heard several more conversations about cancer. It seemed to be on everyone’s mind and the room was split about whether they should be leaving or not.
Priscilla stood up and her tablemates clinked on their glasses. Everyone turned toward the head table.
“Thank you all for coming and supporting our school. A special thank you goes to Sheryl Ann and her crew for the wonderful food.”
Sheryl Ann and her group of women came out of the kitchen and everyone clapped.
“And to our servers,” Priscilla continued.
The boys took a bow and the women in the place hooted and hollered for them.
“What’s going on with the new road, Priscilla?” a woman asked.
Several women frowned while others nodded their heads to encourage her.
“We’ve collected several bids from contractors and will be presenting them at the town meeting next week,” Priscilla told her, then added. “This isn’t the time or the place to discuss it, Rachel. We’ve got entertainment!”
A clown and three dogs ran into the room. The dogs did tricks, while the women laughed.
“I saved you a lunch,” Sheryl Ann said. “Go and eat in the kitchen.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“I pick so much when I cook that I don’t need to eat. Besides, I like the clown.” She laughed as the dog jumped from a table and over the clown’s back.
My cell phone rang. I stepped into the kitchen to answer it.
“Hey, Teach,” Justin said. “How’s the rodeo?”
“I haven’t been there yet. I’ve seen a nice parade and am helping at a luncheon. The rodeo starts at 1:30.”
“Okay, I’ve got some news for you.”
“Let me step outside for a moment.” I stepped through the backdoor and saw three FBI agents from before, so I went back into the kitchen.
“Go ahead,” I told him.
“I still haven’t found the Banners’ partner. When I do, I want to meet the guy who buried his ownership. I’ve never seen so many layers. I did learn that every year he takes over a larger percentage of Blue Stripe Enterprises.”
“How much does he own now?”
“He started with twenty-five percent and then every few years he picks up another percent or so. Now he owns fifty percent of the company.
“Priscilla owns the rest?”
“All but one percent which is held in a trust for the daughter, Grace. Until she’s twenty-five, her mother gets to vote the entire fifty percent.”
“Not much of a vote. Her partner has the same amount of power. Neither should be able to do anything without the other’s approval.”
“Unless they do it without checking with the other partner. I also looked into the highway that is supposed to be going through that town and I can’t find anything.”
“What do you mean?”
“There isn’t any state or federal money being used for the road and I can’t find any contractors who have bid on the project, either.”
“Can you look into Ray Jenkins?”
“Who’s he?”
“A man who was shot last night.”
“You’ve already stumbled on a body?” Justin asked excitement in his voice.
“Not really, but since I have no idea what I am supposed to be looking for, I want to check everything out. He was a night foreman at the power plant. His wife is Jenny and they have one son, Tad.”
“Okay, I’ll look into him. Anyone else?”
“Glen Sanders. He’s the local doctor and coroner. He’s a nice guy, but there is something that hits me wrong about the guy.”
“Okay. If you think of anything else, let me know and I’ll keep digging on Blue Stripe Enterprises.”
I hung up the phone and leaned on the kitchen counter. I bet the issue about Grace’s trust fund is not money but a percentage of the company. Does that mean it will be worth more or less depending upon when the road is put through or not? What did it all have to do with the cancer cluster? Did Pricilla just lie to everyone about the bids or was she being lied to? And why didn’t I trust Doc Sanders?
CHAPTER 17
After the luncheon, a group of men came in to clean the hall and break down all the tables and stack the chairs. I was glad that I didn’t have to do it. Sheryl Ann was headed back to her house so she took my purchases and promised to put them into my room.
It was almost one o’clock so I called Tom.
“Hi honey,” he said as he answered the phone.
“Are you still in Gainsville or on your way here?” I asked, hopeful that he was almost in Ridgedale.
“I’m sitting in my office and letting three teenage boys stew before I go in and read them the riot act.”
“You’re going to miss the beginning of the rodeo,” I whined because it was exactly the way I felt. Being with a cop was a pain!
“I know, but I should be on my way soon, so I won’t miss much.”
“Aren’t you at least two hours away?”
“Not with lights and sirens,” he said. “Love you and see you soon.”
I put my phone back into my pocket and walked down Main Street. It was filled with people, some having lunch in an outdoor section of the café that had been set up, others with huge three and four-scoop stacked ice cream cones. Everyone was moving in one direction towards the other end of town and the rodeo arena.
The grocery store lot had been roped off to make a parking lot for the rodeo. They were charging $5.00 a spot. Across from the arena was a vacant lot. The cost there was only $3.00 but you ran the risk of getting a flat tire from the broken glass scattered around the ground.
I bought a ticket and waited in line to enter the arena with fifty people who were all wearing cowboy hats. I felt naked without one. I recognized some of the women from the luncheon.
Riley stood at the gate taking tickets.
He tipped his hat and said, “Howdy, Liza. How was the luncheon?”
“Great food and I even bought a few things at the vendors.”
“It’s going to be hot sitting in the arena. There are some vendors inside so why don’t you get yourself a hat?”
“That’s a great idea,” I told him.
I bought a program from one of the teenagers I saw last night. She didn’t have any more clothes on, maybe less, with her tight denim mini-skirt and pink boots. As I waded through young girls and boys to get to the vendors, I wondered if any of them would see the actual rodeo or if they just bought a ticket so they could prowl, check each other out and pick each other up.
There were several vendors selling t-shirts, leather goods, and hats. I bought a red one to match my boots and went into the arena. The middle was a large dirt oval with bleachers on three sides. The fourth had pens with fences, gates, and large overhead signs – two insurance companies, Jack Daniels, a real est
ate company, and Coors beer. There were also similar hanging banners in other places in the arena. Were these the rodeo’s sponsors?
I found a seat in the middle of the arena across from the pens, sat and people watched. There had to be as many people standing around the vendors, especially the beer and food stands, as there were in the almost filled arena.
At exactly 1:30, an announcer came on and asked everyone to stand. He stepped aside and another gentleman took the microphone. A prayer was said for the safety of the cowboys competing today.
We all remained standing as music began. A young girl began singing “God Bless the USA”. I knew the song since it was one that I taught my kindergarten students each year. Everyone around me was singing along, just like me. When we got to the chorus, the side gate opened and a single cowgirl rider came in holding a flag pole topped with a large American flag. She kicked the horse with her boots and it took off running. The music started fading in and out, along with the young girl’s voice. Soon there was no music, just the entire crowd singing the song. It gave me goose bumps on my arms. I knew it wasn’t planned but it was amazing to hear over two thousand people singing along while the girl circled the arena with the flag.
At the end of the song, the crowd went wild – screaming, stomping and clapping. Then a parade of girls on horseback came in carrying flags with brand names on them, along with the names similar to the banners on the sides of the arena.
Then the rodeo began. I watched the team roping and understood, thanks to Riley, what they were talking about when they used the words heeler and header. Luckily the rodeo program also gave information about each event which helped a lot. I learned that it was a timed event and that they start from a box which has a cable across the front called the barrier. The header is the first out, trying to rope the head as quickly as possible. He can rope the steer by both horns, one horn and the head, and the neck. Once the catch is made the header wraps the end of the rope around the horn of his saddle – this is called dallying. Then the heeler has to rope the steer’s legs. There are lots of time penalties. If the barrier is broken they add ten seconds to the team’s time. If the heeler manages only to get one leg, then a five second penalty is added. It was amazing to watch the coordination and cooperation of the men and their horses.