Around three o’clock, a fifteen-minute break was announced. Some folks left their seats, and all the judges left ours, as did Bun. He and I went out into the sunshine, walked the area, and then sat on a stone bench for a little while. Bun filled me in on the impressions he’d gotten and said it would do us well to remain cognizant of each rabbit and owner.
I ran a hand over his fur and asked, “Why?”
“I think it would be worthwhile. They are a chatty, competitive group, that will turn on one another in a flash. We saw that this morning, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
We returned to the judging platform in time for the next skill set, a race to the finish. Five fleet-footed rabbits zoomed the undersized oval track, which reminded me of those used by NASCAR drivers. On the second lap, two rabbits collided—one flipped head-over-teakettle and landed with a thud, while the other jumped the wall that was supposed to keep the animals contained. The crowd jumped out of their seats, some shouted for the race to end, while others urged the judges to repeat the race. In the end, the audience became a tad unruly.
Shocked by their behavior and that of the contestants, I watched as they now ran wildly about to catch the rabbits that had followed the one who had raced off. I concluded it was a blessing Petra wasn’t involved in these games. The judges, all ten of us, stood and gaped at the melee before us. It was then that I noticed Seamus. He elbowed his way onto the track, swept a rabbit into his arms, and ran for the door.
The man he had accused of drugging his own rabbit raced after him, shouting his name. Our game room had fallen into utter chaos. Fearing Bun would take off after them, I scooped him up and sat in my chair.
“Did you see that? It’s shameful how that rabbit careened into the other one. Good thing Petra isn’t here.”
I nodded and said nothing. The other judges talked among themselves and decided to call the games off for the remainder of the day. One of them spoke to David Murphy, who hurried to tell the announcer, who in turn, repeated the decision and said the final game from today would take place first thing tomorrow when the games resumed.
People booed, shook their heads, and went on their way, some saying they wouldn’t be back. Those who approved of the decision walked off with smiles on their faces as they chattered away like nothing had happened. I wondered if the dissenters were all talk with an added touch of disappointment and asked David about them.
“This sort of thing happens all the time. These animals aren’t professional racehorses, they are rabbits. The audience will return tomorrow, hoping for another such commotion.” He snickered over their departure, or at least I thought that’s why he did so.
“I don’t find it the least bit funny. The owners were unprofessional and that poor rabbit could have been injured.”
“You’re right, he could have been. I apologize. I know you’re a rabbit farmer and care about your critters.”
I agreed and left the arena for the vendors’ gallery. Goods that weren’t on display the day before caught my eye, along with Jim Brody, who waved to me from across the floor.
Wending our way to his booth, I greeted him and surveyed a slew of goods I hadn’t seen on my last visit.
“I see you’ve been busy resetting your booth.”
Bun’s head appeared from within the sling as Jim said, “We sold quite a lot of merchandise this morning during the game breaks. It was somewhat crazy in here after they were called off, too. I heard various stories. What really happened?”
I gave a rundown of the race and let it go at that.
“Did you bring the grant paperwork with you?”
“Sorry, I walked out the door without it this morning. I’ll try to return it to you tomorrow.” It had occurred to me that having my attorney look it over would be smart on my part. After all, grants weren’t my field of expertise.
“That’s fine, you can always drop it off at the office, if you want. Excuse me, I have a possible customer and my helper is taking a break.” He left me to view the goods and listen to Bun whine about a new bed.
Having had enough excitement for one day, I began to make our way to the exit.
“Stop and look at something while I listen to that guy over there. I believe he’s talking about Evelyn.”
We hadn’t quite reached the end of Jim’s booth. I reached out, plucked a bed from the stack, and pretended to read the information on the tag. When Bun didn’t let me know he was finished eavesdropping, I placed it on the stack and picked up a feeding tray, and gave it a once-over. Bun’s ears seemed to vibrate, then stopped.
“Get a move on, right now.”
I did his bidding and we left the hall. While we crossed the lot to my car, Bun began to speak and then hid inside the sling, his whole body aquiver. Surprised by his actions, I gazed the entire lot and saw Bun’s former owner, Margery Shaw, on course toward us. What madness would she present this time around?
Margery, a miserable sot, had mistreated Bun due to his ability to speak. She often accused of him of being the spawn of Satan, but truly, Bun was fortunate to have this gift and have me to listen to and believe in him. We were both lucky, I guess. We’d found each other, and I refused to put up with Margery’s foolishness.
“I see you’ve got that demented rabbit with you. He can talk, you know. I heard him, many times.”
I gave what I hoped was a sympathetic look and remarked softly, “Margery, you know animals can’t talk. Have you seen a doctor for those hallucinations?”
She was angered by my implying she had such a disorder, and her eyes fairly snapped with it as she stepped closer. I held my ground. I had been through worse than what Margery could hand out.
“Don’t you dare call me crazy.”
“I never said that. You think Bun can speak, and I know he doesn’t. I’ve even had my veterinarian look him over to make sure.”
She grabbed the sling, Bun squeaked from fear, and I reached for Margery’s hand. In a second or two, I’d peeled her thumb from the fabric and yanked it backward, causing her enough pain that she instantly released the sling from her grasp. I wanted her to think twice before she acted that way again.
Her cell phone in hand, Margery shrieked at me. “I’m calling the police. Sheriff Carver will arrest you for assault. You almost broke my thumb.”
“Go ahead, call him. When he arrives, I’ll let him know you tried to harm Bun.”
Her face reddened with anger, Margery stuffed the phone into her pocket and stomped off toward the building.
I snorted at her attempt to harm Bun, then reached inside the sling for Bun before I opened the car door. “Come on, you’re safe now. She can’t hurt you, not now, not ever. I promise, Bun.”
“You can’t be sure of that. She is a wily, cruel person. You see that, don’t you?”
“I do, but I’m wilier than she is. We escaped a near-death experience this summer due to being clever, didn’t we?”
He didn’t speak for a moment, he just huddled on the seat. At least he wasn’t shaking any longer. “You’re going to be fine. We’ll go home and you can have a special treat, okay?”
“Okay.” He edged closer to me, giving the door quick glances as though he expected Margery to return.
The door locks clicked when I started the car and shifted into gear. I backed out of the parking spot and went home.
After a couple of minutes, I urged Bun to tell me what he’d heard. “Was that the same person who discussed Evelyn the last time?”
“The voice sounded the same, so I would say it was that guy Seamus. He was with two other people. They didn’t agree or disagree with him, they listened and then moved on before he could get worked up. As they passed by, I heard one of them say the man held a grudge, and it didn’t bode well for the show organizers, or anyone affiliated with them. Does that mean us? We’re affiliated, aren’t we?”
Unwilling to scare him more than necessary, I asked a question without answering his. “What was Seamus going on about?”
“Glad to know that. Sheriff Carver will be interested in those shenanigans. Does this guy have a rabbit that competed, and is he set up in the rabbit owners area?”
“I’m not sure. Since you didn’t answer my affiliates question, I assume that would be a yes?”
“We’ll have to be careful, and look out for each other. It’s the best thing we can do. I’ll keep Carver apprised of what we’ve learned and see what he thinks. You know how protective he can be where civilians are concerned.” Worried that we had taken on more than we could handle, I took into account that Bun hadn’t refused my suggestion to share our findings with Carver. I realized we might both be in for a rough time if we weren’t alert.
“I’m glad I came to this show. You might have bumbled around, not knowing who was what. Fortunately, my hearing and keen wits will be how we find Evelyn’s murderer. I’m certain the killer is at the show.”
“I’m not as sure as you are, but it sounds plausible.” I turned into the long driveway, drove under the FUR BRIDGE FARM sign, and parked in front of the barn.
“I have to check with Jess on how the day has gone, do you want to go ahead into the house?”
“I’d rather visit with the other rabbits, if you don’t mind. I miss them. They’re really a good bunch, you know.”
I gave him a gentle pat on the head, smoothed his ears, and opened the door. He hopped out of the sling and went into the barn to see his friends.
Jessica was gone for the day. Molly and Jason were settling the rabbits in their cages. Having finished exercising, the rabbits were ready for snacks and a rest. From the look of both kids, I figured they might need one, too.
“Job well done. Thanks so much for your help, I know you have classes and homework to do. I’ll take it from here. Oh, uh, Molly, did Jess say if she’d be returning?”
“She had to pick up a special medication for Mr. Roman’s dog and drop it at his home. She’ll pick up dinner for you both.”
“Great, thanks. I’m beat. What a frantic day.”
“Too many rabbits in the same place,” Jason remarked, and tucked his jacket under his arm.
“We’ll see you tomorrow, Jules.”
They got into Molly’s car and drove away.
“They make a cute couple, don’t you think?”
I turned and gasped at Bun.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After supper the evening before, I’d phoned Jack Carver to give him the information Bun and I had gathered. Before he could say a word, I added my theory that Evelyn’s death was somehow linked to this event. He said we’d talk in person very soon and hung up. He could be short at times, it was usually because someone was close by and he didn’t want them to know what was up.
Bun and I had begun day two of the show and entered the game room earlier than the other judges to prepare for the first session. The rabbit race that had failed the day before would take place within the next hour. I sipped coffee I’d bought at a concession stand while Bun happily chomped away at his fruit and veg snack.
I wondered if this was what moms felt like when they had small children and carried incredible amounts of supplies and incidentals. I used the oversized Bun Bag for food and water bowls, a small pad for Bun to sit on, and I had folded the sling to fit as well. Small packets of Bun’s chilled food and my own sandwich were in a lined cooler bag that filled the rest of the space. Not exactly packhorse material, but it seemed darn close.
Fans arrived, found their seats, and got comfortable. Rabbits and owners came next, followed by judges. Surprised that I was already in place, they offered smiles and brief greetings. The judges hadn’t made much effort to be friendly, but then, neither had I. Yet.
I searched the audience for Seamus, in case he had withdrawn his rabbit, if he had one, from the rest of the games. I didn’t see him. About to turn my attention to business, I caught sight of Jack Carver dressed in street clothes, rather than his uniform. A closer look at the crowd showed no one had noticed or paid him any mind. If the fans were from out of town, they probably wouldn’t know he was a lawman. Only local folks would be aware of who he was.
He watched everyone and everything closely as the rabbits lined up for their race. We, the judges, focused on the rabbits, hoping all would go well. From what David had said, mishaps weren’t unusual, but I had been concerned over it.
The announcer gave the go-ahead and the rabbits took off, making their first turn around the track with no issues. They kept going until they had done five laps and the flag went down. The first, second, and third rabbits were scooped up by their owners and held up for cheers from onlookers. The rabbits who hadn’t placed were consoled by their owners and given a treat. With a sigh of relief, I noted who won what place by scribbling the numbers pinned to the petite harnesses of the winners.
The owners took the winning rabbits back to their cages to rest while the next two events took place. When a fifteen-minute break was called, I noticed Sheriff Carver stared in my direction. He tipped his head toward the rear of the room and we met him there after the crowd had emptied out.
“Are you undercover?”
“Just taking a day off.”
“Like that ever happens, Jack.”
“Do you know who is betting on the rabbits?”
Before I could say a word, Bun said, “There are three people in the fourth-row booth of the rabbit room. They take bets from anyone willing to put cash in their hands.”
I repeated what he’d said.
“You saw them do that?”
“Yes, we can show him, Jules.”
I glanced at my watch. We had time and I said, “I can show you who they are, we should be able to get there and back before the games commence. Come on.”
We walked from the game room into the rabbit stations. Guided by Bun, I showed Jack where they were. “Are you going to bet? I see money changing hands at that booth to your right.” I didn’t point it out, but Jack was smart and followed my line of sight.
With a nod, he left me and Bun on our own and slowly made his way to the stand. He petted the rabbit and remarked upon it. I was uncertain what he knew about rabbits, but Jack was no fool and had likely read up on them beforehand. Bun and I returned to the judges’ table.
The games went on until early afternoon before another break was announced. Bun and I went outside to sit on a bench to have our lunch. I’d packed his bowls and slung the backpack over one shoulder and Bun walked beside me on a leash.
“What a brilliant move by the sheriff to go undercover like that. While I’m not crazy about him, I can see why he’s so good at his job.”
High praise from Bun since he rarely gave Jack credit, let alone admitted he was brilliant. I handed him a small portion of lettuce leaf and bit into my sandwich. His food and water bowls had lids clamped on tight to prevent spillage. I opened them both and set them on the seat for Bun.
I glanced up to see Jack sit on the bench that backed ours. I didn’t utter a word, but kept eating and tending to Bun, who knew Jack was behind us.
“I placed a bet. The guys from the station will arrest these people for gambling at the end of today’s show. There are more plainclothes officers here at various times, so you’ll be safe. I would rather you didn’t go any further in my investigation. It would be too dangerous for you and the rabbit.”
I looked at Bun, leaned low, petted him, and murmured, “Good to know about your men. After what we heard yesterday, I was nervous.” I refrained from saying it was too late for me to cease and desist. I had promised Carina and would keep looking for Evelyn’s killer whether Jack liked it or not.
Sheriff Carver rose and entered the building. Fans went indoors for the afternoon games as I stored Bun’s bowls. We, too, hurried to arrive on time. We all filtered int
o the area set up for the remaining contests.
The games would end around three, if all went well, and I’d have time to chat with rabbit owners and employees before the day was done. With only one more day to go, I wanted to poke around, or the killer would get away. This was my one chance to make serious headway into Evelyn’s death. I didn’t want to waste the opportunity.
One competition followed another while I considered what Jack had said. Did this mean I didn’t have to report to him any longer? I thought that over and decided to keep what we learned to myself until I had enough evidence to present to him.
“I think the sheriff is wrong to shut us out of the investigation. We have proven our value to him and he should appreciate us more.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I know you can’t talk to me, but we should keep looking for Evelyn’s killer.”
I reached down and gently tapped his head twice to let him know I agreed.
“The games have become monotonous. I want to search for the killer, not watch this. And, it’s too noisy for a nap.”
After the last game of the day ended, Bun and I congratulated the winner of each competition as they filed out the door wearing brightly colored ribbons. We followed the lingerers out and strolled toward the rabbit stations. In their section, I stepped to the side while I watched two women arguing.
Bun, who scrambled around inside the sling to get a better view of the happenings, settled down and said, “Well, isn’t this something?”
Accusations were hurled from one woman to the other and back again until the situation escalated, and a shoving match took over. I drew closer, yet remained far enough away to stay clear of them both. More shoving and foul words followed. Fearful a fistfight was in the offing, I was prepared to intervene when I heard Bun say the sheriff was on the other side of the room and had seen everything.
I relaxed when I saw Jack, who nodded at a plainclothes man standing opposite him. I remembered he’d said there were other cops in attendance.
Who's Dead, Doc? Page 7