Death Over Easy

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Death Over Easy Page 17

by Maddie Day


  The man onstage stepped forward again. “I second the plea. We have security measures in place, so rest assured you are safe here tonight and for the rest of the festival. But please do report to the police or even to a music park security guard anything the least bit unusual or suspicious. And now, let’s give it up for the Moonshine Players!” He backed away, clapping, then hurried offstage.

  The five musicians struck up a tune, playing in the fast precise style that characterized the genre. Ed was fiddling, and two men played a guitar and a banjo, while an upright bass and a mandolin were played by women. The banjo, bass, and mandolin players leaned into their mikes and sang in close harmony. All the musicians wore jeans with untucked shirts of various sorts except for the mandolin player, who paired red cowboy boots with a short denim skirt and a red plaid shirt, tails tied at her waist.

  I started back to our chairs, but I kept my gaze on the stage. When the tune shifted, Beth clogged onstage to a round of enthusiastic clapping.

  I glanced at Wanda over at the side of the audience. She’d definitely seen Beth up there, because she held a radio, or maybe a phone, in front of her mouth and was talking into it while keeping her gaze glued on the stage. Was she communicating with Henderson? I hadn’t seen her tonight, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t here. Were we going to have a repeat of this afternoon, except with Beth arrested in public instead of Chase? No, Wanda had admitted they didn’t have any hard evidence against Beth. What would evidence be? DNA on the banjo string? Something the killer had dropped in the bridge, maybe, or a fingerprint. But I didn’t think they could extract a fingerprint from someone else’s clothing or skin.

  I shook my head. Finding evidence and arresting guilty parties was the detective’s purview, not mine. I headed back to the chairs, to my father, my boyfriend, and hopefully a cold beer.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Beth clogged two numbers, then bowed and sashayed through one of the doors at the back of the stage. I must have been wrong that Henderson wanted to take Beth in for questioning. Or maybe she didn’t want to make a spectacle out of it by plucking her off the stage. One spectacle per day was more than enough. I checked the area where I’d last seen Wanda, but she’d moved on. To make sure Beth didn’t slip away? Could be.

  I sat with Abe and the Italians, sipping my beer. They all seemed to be enjoying the music, as did the rest of the folks around us. My own enjoyment was tempered by thoughts of murder, but I tried to put suspects, motives, and the act of garroting out of my mind.

  A man loomed large in front of me, blocking my view. When he didn’t move on, I glanced up. Chase looked down at me. Whoa. Had I summoned him without meaning to? I didn’t really believe in woo-woo stuff, but this was quite a coincidence. Or had he been following us? My insides felt like they were bathed in ice water, and my heart rate jumped into the aerobic range it normally only reached when I was riding hard up a hill.

  “Evening, Robbie.” He smiled but somehow it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve been attempting to call you.”

  I swallowed. “Oh?” I slid my phone out of my bag. Yep, three missed calls. “Sorry. I turned the sound off for—” I stopped myself before I spoke of the memorial service. Surely he wouldn’t want to be reminded of this afternoon. “I turned it down a few hours ago. Why were you calling?” I stood so I wasn’t craning my neck. Abe stood, too, and laid a hand gently on my back. I was good at defending myself, and there were a couple hundred people around us, but it was always reassuring to have a strong and caring reinforcement nearby. Facing us was a man who’d very recently been arrested on a charge of murder, after all.

  “I plan to return home earlier than expected,” Chase said. “I’d like to extract my belongings from my room and turn in my key.”

  The police should have finished searching the room by now. “Your reservation was through Sunday, though, and I can’t make a refund at this late date,” I said in a firm tone. Sheesh. My first week as an innkeeper and two out of three rooms were defaulting on two nights. Thank goodness for credit cards.

  “Not a problem. As you might have seen this afternoon, I’ve been falsely accused of wrongdoing.” He lifted his chin. “And my last set here at the festival has been canceled by the management. Do you have an issue with me going over there now? I can leave my keys on the bureau in the room.”

  While the upstairs outside door locked itself when it closed, I wasn’t particularly interested in him going onto the property when it was empty. “I’d be more comfortable if you came back tomorrow. Any time after seven in the morning when the store opens is fine.” But what if he had prescription medications he couldn’t do without? I’d have to leave the concert now, or we would all have to, since we’d driven together. Because no way was I getting a ride home from Chase Broward. I waited for him to offer objections.

  After a moment’s pause, he said, “Very well. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Why don’t you give Robbie your keys now,” Abe said.

  Abe glanced at me for confirmation, and I gave a little nod. Good idea. No, a great idea. Even if I asked Chase not to go in tonight, he didn’t have anything stopping him if I was out and he still held the keys.

  Chase pressed his lips together, but apparently aspirants to the United States Senate shouldn’t argue with logic, even if they didn’t like it. He dug into his pocket and dropped the keys on their ring, which was identified by a green bead, onto my waiting palm.

  “Thanks,” I said. “See you in the morning.” After he walked away, I squeezed Abe’s hand and sank into my chair again. My core warmed again and my heart returned to a normal resting pulse, or close to it.

  Abe sat, too. Roberto looked quizzical, but Maria had alarm written all over her face. They’d both seen the detective take Chase away in handcuffs this afternoon.

  “It’s nothing,” I said. “I saw the deputy detective and she told me Chase is out on bail.” I watched Roberto to see if he knew the word, and he seemed to. He turned to Maria to explain.

  “But he is still accused of the killing?” my father asked when he was finished translating.

  “I think so,” I said.

  “In Italia, killers do not go free in this way.” Roberto pressed his lips together and shook his head.

  “It’s the American way,” Abe offered.

  Roberto threw his hands up in what can you do? gesture. He drained the last sip of his beer and pushed up to standing. “I go to the men’s room.” He translated for his wife and set off between the chairs, murmuring, “Scusa, scusa,” to people he passed in front of.

  “You have keys back from the man?” Maria asked haltingly. “And he go,” she made a sweeping gesture.

  “Thanks to Abe.” I dangled the key ring in the air, then slid them into my bag. “Yes, he’s gone.”

  “Good. I no like him.” Maria wiped her hands off on each other a couple of times in the universal gesture indicating finished, done with it.

  “Thanks, Abe,” I said. “Really smart move to ask for the keys back.”

  “Glad I’m good for something.” He laid his arm around my shoulders and stuck his legs out in front. His tennies were a florescent orange.

  I laughed. “Those shoes are kind of blinding.”

  “You like them?” He lifted his right foot in the air and rotated it. “I know, they’re bright. I haven’t had a chance to get them dirty yet.”

  We settled in to watch the show. The group with Ed on the fiddle was still onstage. When they started a new piece, Beth emerged again and clogged onto center stage.

  “Speaking of keys,” I said to Abe, “I still need my keys back from Ed. Beth said she’d lost hers, but I’m not sure I believe her. Maybe I should go up there now and wait for them to be done.”

  “After the group finishes they’ll surely be called back for an encore. You can go up then.”

  “Good idea.” I watched until the number finished. The woman on the mandolin, who had been doing all the talking, thanked the audience and
the band filed off. When the clapping and enthusiastic hoots continued, the group emerged again. Beth did, too.

  I stood. “I’ll be back.”

  “Want company?” Abe asked.

  “No, you stay with Maria. I’ll be in sight of hundreds of people.” I made my way to the right hand side of the stage.

  These musicians were really good at what they did. I couldn’t believe how fast fingers were flying on the banjo and the mandolin, especially. Seen from so close up it was pretty impressive. Ed got the spotlight for a bit, and his fingers raced up and down as fast as his bow, with Beth’s feet keeping up. Then it was over.

  I’d seen steps leading up to the back of the stage on the right side but not on the left, so I positioned myself at the bottom of them. Four older gentlemen all in black suits, filed past me with their instruments and trotted up the stairs. The next group, no doubt. Someone scuffled a foot behind me and I turned to see Wanda.

  “I bet I know who you’re waiting for,” I said. “Me, too.”

  “You won’t interfere with the law, I trust?” she said.

  Really, Wanda? “Of course not. I only want to get my keys back. Beth and Ed cleared out without checking out.”

  “That’ll be fine, then.” She stood with her feet apart and her elbows out in a classic tough guy stance that didn’t match her outfit, pushing a fist into the palm of her other hand over and over.

  The mandolin player emerged, and then Ed and Beth together. They were talking in low voices. Their expressions looked like they were arguing. When the couple reached the bottom of the stairs, Beth glanced up, catching sight of Wanda. The clogger’s face morphed from disgruntled to panicked. She turned to reverse her steps, but the guitarist, the banjo player, and their instruments blocked the steps coming down, and the bassist and her bass were directly behind them. Beth and Ed had no choice but to move forward out of their way.

  Wanda stepped toward them, all business. “Ms. Ferguson, Detective Henderson asked me to accompany you to the station. We have a few questions we need to ask you.”

  Beth wrapped her arms around herself, tight, and shook her head eyes wide. “I can’t. I have to go. I—”

  Wow. Quite the different reaction from the cool, disdainful Beth I’d talked to earlier. Now she looked terrified. Sweat beaded on her upper lip and I caught a whiff of fear.

  Ed slung his own arm around her shoulders. “Of course we’ll go. We have nothing to hide, right, babe?”

  Even through her panic Beth looked like she’d tasted a moldy piece of bread at being called babe.

  I stepped forward. “Could I get your keys back, Ed?” Might as well cushion it a little. “Beth said you guys checked out but forgot to leave the keys.”

  Ed shot Beth a quick glance, but not so quick I didn’t notice. He knew she’d been lying.

  “Of course.” He dug in his messenger bag and handed me two key rings, both with a blue bead.

  Yep, Beth had lied. “Thanks so much. As I told Beth, the full week’s charge will appear on your bill.”

  “Fine, fine.” He waved me away.

  Wanda cleared her throat. “If you don’t mind?” She extended her arm in a way that clearly indicated it didn’t matter if they minded or not.

  Chapter Forty-two

  When I arrived back at our chairs, my father’s was still empty. Maria, brow furrowed, kept turning and looking to her left in the direction he’d headed for the restroom. Awhile ago. Huh?

  “Where’s my father?” I asked Abe in a low voice. Nobody needed that much time to use the bathroom. Roberto was traveling outside his comfort zone, though, and maybe some American food he’d tried had disagreed with him. That very thing had happened to me when I visited Italy, and I’d had to spend more than a few minutes on the commode one day. “Did he go get more drinks?”

  Abe shook his head. “He’s not back from the head. I’ll go look for him, since you’re here now.” Hiding his right hand with his left, he pointed at Maria and telegraphed a message I was pretty sure read, She’s worried.

  “Got it. Go.” I sat and smiled at Maria, who was tapping her foot. “Do you like the music?”

  “I like it. But Roberto? I worried.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine. Abe went to look for him. Maybe he saw a friend.”

  “Friend Don?”

  “Sure. Or someone else he met this week, or maybe somebody he knew when he was here before.” I spoke as clearly as I could.

  She nodded, but her remarkable eyebrows still drew together in the middle. The new group finished one song and started another. These men in their black suits and dress shirts presented a very different stage presence than the preceding band, as well as a slower, twangier style of playing and singing.

  Still no Abe, still no Roberto. Now I was getting worried, too, plus I needed to get back and start food prep for tomorrow. I stood and scanned the area, but it was even more crowded than when we’d arrived an hour earlier. I sent Abe a text.

  You OK? Can’t find R?

  No response. Why not? Where were they? Hanging out at the drinks booth? Corrine and Danna strolled toward us. I waved to get their attention.

  “Well, slap my head and call me silly,” Corrine said, using the same phrase Wanda had. “Howdy, there, Robbie. And this lovely lady might be?”

  “Mom, I told you.” Danna rolled her eyes in a younger-teen kind of reaction I rarely saw at the store. Probably because I was her boss, not her mother.

  “Corrine, this is my father’s wife, Maria Fracasso. Maria, meet Corrine Beedle. She’s Danna’s mother and the mayor of South Lick.” I thought hard. Had I learned the word for mayor? Sindaco. Or was it sindaca if the mayor was a woman?

  Maria stood and pumped Corrine’s hand. “Sindaco. I pleased to meet you. Danna, she is good girl. And very good cook.”

  Danna blushed.

  “Maria, welcome to Indiana,” Corrine said. She had dressed down—for Corrine—in a festival T-shirt tied in an off-center knot at her waist and tight jeans tucked into tooled red cowboy boots with a good-sized heel on them.

  “Are you playing tonight, Corrine?” I asked.

  “No, us ladies had our fill the other evening. I’m in the audience tonight, me and my girl.”

  “Isaac’s not with you?” I asked Danna.

  “No. He was . . . uh”—she glanced at her mom—“busy. He was busy.”

  Busy? Was he still being questioned at the station? No, Wanda had said they’d had to let him go. I hoped he wasn’t having another flare-up.

  Corrine turned to Maria. “And where is your handsome husband? I want to meet him, too.”

  Maria’s face fell and she turned to me to explain.

  “Roberto went to the men’s room a while ago,” I explained. “He hasn’t come back. Abe went off a little while ago to find him, but he’s not back, either, as you can see.”

  Corrine listened intently. For all her big hair and southern accent, she was one sharp lady. “We got one or two bad guys still at large,” she murmured to me. “I heared the sheriff was obliged to let Chase Broward loose. Think you should oughta get some help from the authorities to find your father and your man?”

  I stared at her. The thought of the murderer going after Babbo or Abe roiled my stomach. “Really?”

  The mayor thought for a moment, then spoke normally. “Tell you what. Danna, darlin’, why don’t you set with Ms. Fracasso a couple few minutes? Robbie and me are going to hunt us up a couple men.” She kept her tone light.

  “Cool. I’m sure you’ll find them,” Danna said, plopping into my chair.

  “Let’s go, girlfriend.” Corrine set out to the left, stopping once in a while to shake someone’s hand or tweak a child’s cheek. Her constituents were everywhere.

  I followed in her considerable wake, all my senses alert. I heard what sounded like angry men’s voices to my right and whipped my head in that direction, but it was only a couple of dudes in cowboy hats arguing the merits of Cubs versus Cards. We passed
the beer booth, where four women behind the table were filling big plastic cups with draft beer or uncapping beer bottles as fast as they could. I scanned for my guys. No Abe. No Roberto.

  As I was searching from side to side while walking, trying to keep up with Corrine, I heard a soft, “Oof.” I’d just walked straight into Paula Berry.

  “I’m sorry, Paula. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Corrine hadn’t noticed. “Corrine, hang on,” I called.

  But over the buzz of the crowd and the amplified music, she must not have heard me. She disappeared into the scrum of bluegrass fans.

  I focused on Paula again, who held a bottle of beer in each hand. “I’m surprised to see you here.” I kept my voice gentle for her. “Is Glen around?”

  “Daddy said he had to leave. I hooked up with my friend. Mom loved this music so much, I wanted to lose myself in it for a while.” Her eyes were red-rimmed and a little bloodshot, too, and she swayed a bit.

  I wondered how many beers she’d already downed. “You’re not driving, right?”

  “No, my friend is, and the baby is with my friend’s hubby, who adores children.” She peered into my face. “I don’t think Daddy really loved Mom. Did you know that?”

  Interesting. Why would she say such a thing? “I’m sure he did, Paula.”

  She shook her head sorrowfully. “No. Maybe a long time ago he did. Not anymore. I don’t think he liked her very much, either.” A dainty hiccup slipped out. She giggled and lifted a hand to cover her mouth. “Excuse me.” She glanced at her hand as if surprised to find a bottle in it, and one in the other hand, too. “I have to go give my friend her beer. Thanks for listening to me, Robbie.” She leaned in and gave my cheek a beery kiss.

  “You take care, now.” I watched her weave into the crowd. It wouldn’t hurt for her to lose her sorrow in a couple of beers, as long as she wasn’t driving. I wondered where Glen had gone. Home? Or was he still on the festival grounds? Was Isaac lurking here, too? And had Chase really left?

 

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