6 Murder at the Art & Craft Fair

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6 Murder at the Art & Craft Fair Page 6

by Steve Demaree


  “What happened to ‘tell me what you want me to buy you?’” I asked.

  “Well, Cy, you bought some things, too.”

  “But not as much as you. What say you and Thelma Lou rest your weary bones while Lou and I find a camel driver to take these to Lou’s car? Then, we can enjoy some lunch before tackling this last row of thirty booths. That is, unless you’re ready to leave.”

  The look she gave me told me that I was off to find the camel driver. No woman would ever leave a craft fair when there were other booths to conquer. She wouldn’t be able to sleep at night wondering whether or not she had passed up a bargain.

  “Say, Cy, I’ve got a question. Did that guy remind you of anyone? The author, I mean. The one with the woman who had all the fobs.”

  “Now that you mention it, Jennifer, I thought he looked a little like Lou.”

  “Lou. I was thinking he looked like you a little bit. Didn’t you notice how handsome he was? About your age, too, I’d guess. Anyway, he’s definitely better looking than Lou.”

  I checked to make sure Lou didn’t hear what she said, then replied to her comment.

  “I can’t see any resemblance to myself, and I certainly wouldn’t call him handsome, but I thought his daughter looked pretty good.”

  “Cy, you know that was his wife.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me. There are a lot of guys robbing the cradle these days.”

  “Yeah, and I’m glad you did.”

  +++

  Lou’s car groaned when we lightened our load. Lou locked it and we turned away to return to the women in our lives, while at the same time thanking God that Hilldale had only one such event a year. My body and checking account couldn’t stand it if it were a weekly event. I wondered if I would have already keeled over if I’d tried this before I began my exercise regimen. I dismissed that thought and focused on lunch.

  Luckily, the food vendors were on the same end of the park where we had rested our carcasses, so we sat down with the girls and all of us turned to check out our lunch possibilities, and they were many. While most women think they need to peruse all of the craft vendors, most women don’t think they need to check out each food vendor and all of their culinary possibilities. That’s most women. Jennifer and Thelma Lou, on the other hand, wanted to read the small print on the menu boards, so they went off to check out the lunch possibilities, and returned in a few minutes to share their discoveries with Lou and me. We made a decision and the girls commandeered a picnic table while Lou and I headed off to find lunch. While we had eaten a large breakfast, sixty craft vendors and two trips back to Lou’s car have a way of making middle-aged men hungry. Middle-aged women, too, although I would never call Jennifer middle-aged to her face. Besides, Jennifer was right. She is a few years my junior. I ended up eating more food than I would have eaten if I had been resting at home devouring a murder mystery. I enjoyed a Gyro, and split a large container of thick-cut fries with the others. I wasn’t sure what the girls liked to dip their fries in, so I returned with cups of ketchup, cheese sauce, and gravy. The gravy was for me. For one day at least, I was reverting to the old Cy. I had no idea what Jennifer normally ate when she attended an event such as this, but on that day, after all of her perusing, she had me bring her back a cheeseburger.

  Chapter Ten

  After eating our lunch and giving it time to head off on its journey, we pushed ourselves to our feet and ambled off to check off the last thirty booths. Since it was well past noon by this point and an afternoon nap sounded better with each additional step, we decided to take in the last thirty booths without waiting on a bench after the first fifteen for the girls to catch up. We’d passed only a couple of booths when I ran into another exhibitor who sold one of my two weaknesses. This time it was another photographer, Roger Ballard from Versailles, Kentucky, not an author. Lou and I stopped to look over his handiwork, and I left with two of his creations. One was a photograph of two horses. The other was a waterfall. He also had a morning shot taken at Yosemite, the one in California, not the one in Kentucky, and an ocean shot that interested me too, but a policeman has only so many walls on which to hang photographs. I gave the man the rest of my life savings and Lou and I trudged on, anxious to stay ahead of the girls, who were probably buying who knows what.

  We continued to look at more of the same things we had already seen that day until we came to something a little different. The sign said, Tom Kincaid, 3-D Wooden Puzzles, Murray, Kentucky.

  “Where’s Murray?” I asked.

  When he told me, I said, “You’re a long way from home.”

  He informed me that the Hilldale show is a good one for him each year, one of five fall shows he does in our neck of the woods. He informed me that he also did shows in Winchester, Danville, Midway, and Berea. When I learned that there were other shows in our part of the state, I cringed, until I learned that each of the other shows had already taken place. I was heartbroken. He told me that it also allowed him to get away from his wife, who was jealous and once she came to a show an hour away looking for him, thinking that he was off with some woman instead of off selling his wares. I laughed when he said that. He said the twelve shows he does each year allows him the only peace he gets, since he and his wife didn’t have any children and she was always complaining about something. At shows, he was respected. At home, he was not.

  The conversation turned from his married life to his creative talent, and my mouth actually flew open as I looked closely at his work and he explained it to us. He had wooden puzzles of every kind. Some small and inexpensive, something a child could tackle. Others large and complex, puzzles that could frustrate even someone like Lou, who has loved putting together jigsaw puzzles since he was a kid.

  “See, each piece locks into the pieces next to it, regardless of how many pieces the puzzle contains, or the shape of the puzzle.”

  He picked up one of his creations and shook it to show us that it wouldn’t come apart. I couldn’t believe that some of his puzzles were spherical while others were pyramids or cubes. All of the puzzles were already put together, and I was amazed that none of them, regardless of shape, fell apart when he shook then, or even when they sat displayed on a table.

  “Look at this.”

  He removed a piece from one of the puzzles. All the other pieces remained intact.

  “Some of the small square puzzles have only ten or twelve pieces. Some of these big ones have hundreds of pieces. While there is definitely a difference between the degree of difficulty in putting together one of my small puzzles to completing one of my larger more complex puzzles, I did build in a cheating mechanism, so to speak. See, here, each puzzle piece has a number on it, on the inside, where you can’t see it when the puzzle is put together. All of the inside pieces are numbered on two sides. Some people don’t look at the numbers, because they want solving it, so to speak, to be as complicated as possible. Others are more easily frustrated, and while you can’t know exactly where Piece 10 goes, you know that somewhere it connects both to Piece 9 and Piece 11. And of course no two pieces are the same.”

  Lou and I talked for a few minutes until we saw The Shopping Network closing in on us. There is no way that two men should shop slowly enough that two experienced, shopping women should catch up with them, so we needed to move on. But Lou and I were so impressed that both of us bought a puzzle to take home and play with, when our work wasn’t frustrating us enough. My selection was a replica of the Empire State Building. It stood approximately four feet tall and Kincaid told me it was one of his best sellers. I knew I had good taste. Lou opted for a puzzle that seemed even harder to me. His was a globe, which Kincaid told us was ten-and-a-half inches in diameter, and had a lot of inside pieces.

  +++

  A few minutes later, with the Empire State Building standing at my feet and obstructing my view, Lou and I plopped down on a bench, each of us waiting for the love of his life. I looked around for someone to give me a sticker that read, “I Survived the
Hilldale Art & Craft Fair,” but I couldn’t find any such person. I wondered if I had enough strength to make it back to the car, and then I remembered that I’d promised Jennifer I would buy her something. That is if there was still something out there that she hadn’t already purchased for herself.

  As Lou and I sat there a little girl walked up to us and pointed to my puzzle.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a puzzle.”

  She laughed. “What is it really?”

  “It’s a 3-D puzzle.”

  “It looks like a statue that you broke and tried to put back together.”

  I decided it was time for me to gain the upper hand.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Kotty Dree.”

  “That’s an unusual name.”

  “It’s really not my name, but I couldn’t say my real name when I was little, and I pronounced my name Kotty Dree.”

  The girl looked like she was three or four years old. I wondered how old she was when she was little. The pretty little girl with long, pretty, curly hair continued.

  “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers, but since my mommy is standing there looking at you and will hit you over the head if you try to grab me, I guess it’s okay to talk to you.”

  “Actually, I’m policeman. It’s okay to talk to a policeman.”

  “My mommy says it’s not nice to lie.”

  “Did you lie?”

  “No, you did. You said you’re a policeman. You don’t even got a uniform.”

  “That’s because I’m a special policeman.”

  “Oh, that splains it.”

  “It does.”

  “Yeah, my friend has a sister who’s in a special class at school. My mommy said that’s for people who can’t do the real work. Is he a special policeman, too?”

  The little girl pointed at Lou, who was doing his best to hide his grin.

  “He’s even more special than I am.”

  “He looks it. Can he talk?”

  “Not so anyone can understand him.”

  The little girl walked over and patted Lou on the knee. “Poor special policeman.” The little girl turned and noticed that her mother was ready to leave, something I had been praying would happen for the last minute or so. “Well, I gotta go now. And I hope someone can fix your broken statue.”

  Lou and I were about to discuss which of us was the most special when I noticed the girls we came with were heading toward us. They looked invigorated as they marched toward us. Jennifer had only a couple of new trinkets, but Thelma Lou arrived carrying a large pyramid puzzle she had purchased for Lou. I hated to get ahead of him on our reading list, so maybe when he was working on his second puzzle Jennifer and I could be locking lips. Of course, since Lou was more skilled in constructing puzzles than I was, I figured he might be able to put together both of his puzzles and still come over and help me finish the top twenty floors of my skyscraper.

  I am a man of my word, so I turned to Jennifer and asked, “Well, what did you see that you want me to buy for you?”

  She gave me the standard, “You don’t have to buy me anything, Cy,” before giving me an answer I would have dreaded to hear before I’d arrived, but welcomed at that moment.

  “Why don’t we go home and think about it and come back tomorrow for a while after church?”

  +++

  I don’t know if Jennifer and Thelma Lou were more tired than they let on or if they felt sorry for Lou and me, but they suggested that Lou and I go home and take naps and come back to pick them up at 6:00. Going home was a little more difficult than it sounded. I was thankful that Lou’s trunk was empty except for a hidden spare tire and an emergency kit when we arrived at the art and craft fair, because it was full when we rode home. Besides that, both Jennifer and I had to hold some of our purchases on the way home, and there were more purchases at Thelma Lou’s feet. It took only a few minutes to get to Thelma Lou’s house, where Lou and I got out and helped the girls carry their purchases into the house. Because there were four of us, it took only one trip each to accomplish this. The pyramid puzzle that Thelma Lou bought for Lou never made it to her house. She figured there was no need for that. I didn’t bother to fish out the scarf I bought for Jennifer. I would give it to her when we returned in a couple of hours. Since my purchases and Lou’s were almost the same, all that mattered when we got to my house was that I got one of everything except for the puzzles. While I did take one of the puzzles, I made sure that I picked up the one that I had bought. I considered trying to put a few pieces together to see if it frustrated me. If I liked it, I could purchase another puzzle the next day. Then, thoughts of a nap pushed working a puzzle out of my mind. I figured if I was that fascinated by those puzzles I could borrow Lou’s two when he wasn’t working them, and I could loan him the one I bought. Lou helped me carry everything I’d bought into the house, but because things had changed next-door we were not accosted by my neighbor or her ball of fur. Even if she had rushed me, at least on one trip I had my Empire State Building to use as a battering ram. Its maker had told me that it would hold together under fire. Well, maybe not fire, but under attack. I merely hoped that I would not have to find that out.

  Chapter Eleven

  The number of drive-in theaters across the country is dwindling each year, and although there is still a drive-in theater within a reasonable driving distance of most people in Kentucky, most of them close after Labor Day weekend or sometime close to that. While the drive-in closest to us no longer stays open year around the way it used to during the heyday of drive-ins, it does stay open until mid-November, which is important if you want to go to the drive-in on an early October night. Also, every other weekend’s fare is made up of old movies, and this was the classic movie weekend. The drive-in decided to devote both October classic movie weekends to something that might get people in the mood for Halloween. On this the first of those two weekends, they were showing a couple of William Castle directed features, House on Haunted Hill and Homicidal, and even though both features were approximately fifty years old, both movies were designed to make you hold your date a little closer. I had no problem with that.

  On the way home from the art and craft fair I’d noticed that Jennifer did indeed wear jewelry, and I thought of that again when Lou and I arrived and I noticed that she was no longer wearing any. I chalked that up to the fact that a necklace or earrings could easily catch on my shirt during a Kodak moment at the drive-in, and smiled. But thinking of it did remind me to ask Jennifer to take a list to the drive-in of possible gifts I could buy her the next day when we returned to the downtown event.

  +++

  It gets darker earlier in October than it does in June, even though it is still Daylight Savings Time, and Lou and I were serious about getting a spot near the back of the drive-in. We also wanted to be close to the concession stand, because after taking a vote, it was unanimous that we continue to eat something our doctors would not recommend, but only on that weekend, and another weekend in the distant future. There were only a handful of cars when we arrived at the drive-in, and most of those had chosen to park near the front and the playground equipment or close to the concession stand. Only one other car had parked on the back row, and Lou pulled into a spot near the middle of that row. We got out of the car to check out what the concession stand had to offer, as if we were expecting something new, or anticipated listening to someone tell us about the chef’s specials. One look behind me told me that we wouldn’t be all that alone. While October temperatures can fluctuate, this particular night was comfortable, but that probably didn’t matter to the two boys hiding out in the trees behind the drive-in, waiting to see a couple of scary movies for free. I wondered how many other freeloaders would arrive to watch the movies under cover of those trees. I also wondered if a drive-in employee would walk the grounds to discourage this practice.

  We stalked off to claim our grubstake, or was it merely our grub? A few minutes later, the four o
f us returned, all of us loaded down with hot dogs, potato chips, popcorn, pizza, soft drinks, and candy bars. After we polished off all of that, we’d consider a return trip to pick up some ice cream bars. I had a feeling that my Wii wouldn’t recognize me on Monday morning. I knew it would shout at me and call me obese, but I was used to that. I wondered if some day I could lose enough weight that it would merely call me fat, or overweight.

  While we ate, Jennifer used her index finger to remove a dab of mustard from the edge of my mouth and reposition it on the tip of my nose. Immediately, I leaned forward to rub noses with her, and she laughed. I took advantage of the situation and gently pressed my lips to hers. I concluded that going to the drive-in with her exceeded any previous drive-in memories with Lou. Lou and I never put our lips together, and the last time we shared the back seat at the drive-in was when either his parents or my parents took us to the drive-in when we were young.

  After the four of us polished off a pepperoni pizza, which followed the hot dogs and chips, we slowed down and settled back, fluffed our pillows, so to speak. Jennifer dipped her hand into the popcorn bag and motioned for me to scoot away from her. Then she tossed a kernel of popcorn at me, which I tried to catch in my mouth. It bounced off my upper lip, and I grabbed it as it bounded off my shirt. I stuffed it in my mouth. It had been quite some time since I had eaten only one kernel of popcorn at a time. I grabbed the popcorn bag from Jennifer, selected one popped kernel and aimed for her open mouth. She snapped at it like a turtle, but was no more successful than I. We continued to take turns until Lou, without turning around, said, “Whoever gets popcorn all over my car has to clean it up.” Some people are just no fun.

  After we finished eating and cleaning up, and I had wiped my hands on a napkin and followed that with a wet nap, I reached down to the floorboard in front of the back seat, plucked a bag and handed it to Jennifer. Realizing that it was much too large to hold an engagement ring, she opened it to find the scarf I had bought for her. She wrapped it around my neck and hers, and then reeled me in. This caused Lou to part lips from Thelma Lou long enough to say, “No P.D.A.” as he pointed at the contingent of boys who were a mere thirty feet or so away from us, and were watching the show that preceded the movie. That was okay. It would be dark soon. I received a short wish list from Jennifer which contained a few inexpensive items she might like, but I was negligent when she requested a similar list from me. She asked me what I’d bought for myself that day, and after taking a moment to backtrack down three aisles of booths, I told about the books, the photographs, and the puzzle I’d purchased. My list was followed by a comment of “Men” from her, which she followed up by saying, “I think you bought more than I did.” I remembered each trip to Lou’s car to deliver each row of purchases, and responded by saying, “No, Dear, I think your stuff weighed three more pounds than mine.”

 

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