Calamity at the Carnival

by London Lovett

  The grumbles and groans continued for a few minutes after Ivonne left the area, but, slowly, they started heading toward their stations to finish their work. I had my eye on the kid who ran the baseball game booth. It was located right next to Cherise's tent. He was my first logical choice for an interview.

  My only interaction with the guy, a lanky kid of eighteen or nineteen, was when I won the unicorn at his stand with one good throw of the baseball. His comment about my age had made it easy to remember him. I followed casually behind as he lumbered on long, thin legs toward his game booth. He stopped short, seemingly not expecting to see the yellow tape draped around Cherise's tent. The woman who ran the ring toss on the opposite side was equally stunned. They both stopped side by side and stared at the yellow tape as it dangled and drooped in the breeze. The evidence team had cleared away most of the equipment, along with the bags of evidence and the bloody murder weapon.

  Officer Reed and Officer Hanson were finishing up a few details with Carson. I'd hung back behind the two carnies, so I couldn't hear what was being discussed. I was certain it had to do with the removal of Cherise's tent. A few of the other workers came around the corner behind me. Their conversation fell off as they spotted the yellow tape.

  "It's just like in the movies," one girl said to the guy next to her. "You never think it's going to happen and then boom, you're standing in the middle of a murder scene."

  The baseball guy recovered from his shock at seeing the yellow tape and circled to the back of his booth. He ducked under the table that held some of the toy prizes and popped up inside. The two officers followed Carson in the direction of the RVs, so I was in the clear.

  The baseball guy started straightening out the prizes on the table and wall, filling in spaces where a prize had been removed. He didn't see me walk up. The sound of my throat clearing startled him. He spun around holding one of the unicorns in his hand, apparently ready to heave it if necessary.

  "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," I said. "Especially under the circumstances." He had a sweatshirt on but it was unzipped. His badge said Tad. "I know you've got some work to do, but I'm with the Junction Times. I was hoping you could answer a couple of questions."

  His forehead folded up. "Hey, you're that lady with the good arm. The one who won the unicorn with one throw."

  "Yes, that's right." I suppressed a grin. It had been a number of years since I'd heard someone say I had a 'good arm'. "Nice that you remembered."

  "Well, not that many older ladies can throw like that."

  "Should have stopped while I was ahead," I muttered under my breath. "Anyhow—" I looked pointedly at his nametag. "Tad, I was wondering if you could answer a few quick questions."

  His bony shoulders jerked with a shrug. "Don't know why you'd bother but go ahead. I'm going to keep cleaning."

  "Of course. I don't mind. Did you happen to notice anyone hanging around Madame Cherise's tent? Someone who might not normally be there?"

  He squeezed a stuffed dragon in his hand and hung it up on the wall behind him. Then he turned back to me. "I thought you were going to ask about carnival stuff. I didn't know you were here about the murder."

  "Yes, well, I am writing an article about the carnival," I said slowly to give myself time to come up with a good reason for my question. "It's just that—well, let's face it. Everyone in town already knows about it, so they'll expect to see it mentioned when I do the write up on the carnival."

  "Guess that makes sense." He shuffled some of the toys around so matching animals were grouped together. "I wasn't really watching Cherise's tent. I mean, why should I? I've got my own booth to run. She had some customers, you know. People I didn't know. I saw Calvin working on something behind the tent. I think it was the generator for the lights. Sometimes it goes out and then Cherise is in the dark." His face dropped. "I mean was in the dark." He went back to stacking prizes. "I've seen the boss, Carson, going in there a few times this week. Not sure what was happening." He chuckled. "Unless he was getting his fortune read. Anyhow, it got pretty busy, so I didn't really notice who else went inside the tent."

  "Yes, I was here getting ice cream earlier, and it was crowded. I'm sure everyone was disappointed the day ended so abruptly."

  "Yeah, well, they can come back tomorrow. Carson is making us open up. Seems like we should have gotten at least one day off." Tad started stacking the milk bottles for tomorrow's first game. He was just angry enough about the lack of a day off to clank them together as he built them into a pyramid.

  "Yes, I'm sure everyone needs some time to recuperate from the shock," I said.

  "Everyone but Ivonne and Carson, apparently. You'd think they just had a ride break down instead of one of the carnies killed." He waved his thin arm toward the tent. "And right in the middle of the whole darn place."

  I had never run a business like the Stocktons', but it did seem that they were being cold about the whole thing. They might regret their decision when they had a spring fair carnival being run by a grim looking, grumpy group of employees.

  "Did you know Cherise well?" I asked.

  "We've been working side by side for three years, so yeah, I knew her well. I mean we didn't hang out after hours or anything. She's kind of old for us to be buddies, you know." Cherise was thirty, at the most.

  "Naturally, those of us in the older generation don't enjoy the same things as you young people," I said with a pretty good imitation of an old granny. The sarcasm went right past him. "Thanks for taking the time to talk to me, Tad."

  "Sure thing." He returned his full attention to cleaning up his game booth. There were a few other people I could talk to but I needed to head out.

  There were hungry farm animals waiting for their Aunt Sunni.

  Chapter 19

  My phone rang just as I reached the jeep. "I left two voicemails," Emily said with unusual irritation in her tone. "Why didn't you call me back?"

  "I'm sorry, Em. I was on assignment, so I'd muted my phone. What's up? Are you guys having a romantically good time?" I opened the car door and climbed inside.

  "How come you didn't tell me about Lana?" Emily was rarely this upset.

  "Uh, because I didn't want to ruin your time away. I'm sorry." I heard chickens clucking in the background. "Where are you? I hear chickens."

  "Yes. Those are my chickens. Hold on." There was some shuffling and more clucking. "Out, King Harold, right now, you scoundrel," Emily snapped. She got back on the phone. "Nick woke up with a sore throat, so we decided to head back early. That was on the voicemail I left you."

  "Again, I apologize. I was just about to head to your house to feed the critters, but I guess I'll just go straight to Lana's to check on her."

  Soft bleating sounds came through the phone.

  "Are those my girls?" I asked. "Have they been saying good things about me?"

  Emily's tone lightened. "Yes, they said Auntie Sunni took good care of them. I'm making an artichoke frittata and corn muffins to take to Lana's for dinner. Nick took his cup of tea and honey and crawled into bed, so I figured I'd spend some time with her. I'll see you when I get there. What assignment were you on that kept you from answering your phone?"

  "It started as a dull story about the Spring Fair Carnival," I said.

  "Oh, that shabby, run-down thing." It was rare for Emily to be negative, even about shabby, run-down carnivals. It was obvious she was upset that not only had her nice trip been cut short by Nick's sort throat but then she came home to discover that Lana had been hurt and we'd kept it secret from her. To add insult to injury, I'd ignored my phone for a good three hours.

  "It definitely needs, as they say, 'a new coat of paint'," I said. "And now, it seems they'll be looking for a fortune teller."

  Emily paused. "Did you say a fortune teller?"

  I started the jeep. "Yes, their usual psychic, Madame Cherise, was murdered."

  Emily's sigh fizzled through the phone. "Jeez, Sunni, why are you always stepping into
the middle of a murder?"

  "I don't know. Just lucky I guess," I quipped.

  "And weird and kooky and a little ghoulish," she added. "I've got to check on my frittata and my patient. I'll see you at Lana's."

  "All right. Tell Nick I hope he feels better soon. And bring extra butter for those corn muffins. Lana's fridge was looking kind of empty this morning."

  "I better stop by the store on the way. See you soon."

  I made a quick stop home to pick up the dogs. I'd been neglecting them for the past few days, and I was sure they'd like to see Lana and Emily. Henry and Ursula had already packed up for the evening. I had to admit, I was relieved not to see Henry's truck in the driveway. It had been a long day, and I was tired and hungry. I was equally glad not to see Edward, especially after his sullen mood this afternoon. He was most likely still lurking around the empty rooms on the second story, where he stayed when he was trying to keep clear of Ursula and Henry.

  Redford and Newman trotted ahead to the jeep and climbed into the backseat. They were both smiling from ear to ear, like two little kids heading out for an adventure. I pulled onto the dirt road that connected the three properties, Lana's house, the Cider Ridge Inn and Emily's farm. The first heavy drops of a cold spring rain hit the windshield as I drove to Lana's. Headlights flashed behind me as I drove up to her house. Raine pulled up right after me.

  I opened the back door. The dogs jumped out and loped up the porch steps, anxious to see Lana. I waited for Raine to get out of her car.

  "Oh my gosh, did you hear?" she said before both feet were even on the ground. She had a bottle of wine tucked under her arm. "Cherise Duvay has been killed." She slammed her car door shut. She took a step but was yanked back as she quickly discovered that she'd caught the edge of her skirt in the door. "Gosh darn this skirt. Happens every time."

  I took hold of the wine so she could free herself from the car. "Isn't that crazy? I can't believe it," she continued.

  We walked toward the house.

  "You already knew, didn't you?" she asked.

  I smiled weakly. "I was there when Carson found her."

  "See, that's the one drawback about having a best friend who is also the local reporter. You never miss a headline. In fact, I'd say it's downright astonishing how you just always happen to be in the vicinity when someone gets murdered."

  "Emily said almost the exact same thing. She told me I was ghoulish for being delighted about my good luck." We reached the front door. I used my key. Newman and Redford pushed their noses through and burst into the house.

  "Lana, beware, there's a couple of very excited pups on their way to see you," I called into the house. "I don't want them to jump on her," I said to Raine.

  Lana was talking in her 'auntie loves her puppies' voice. The boys were already happily gnawing away on treats by the time Raine and I reached the kitchen. My sister looked way better than she had the night before and this morning. It seemed the initial shock and pain of the break were wearing off. There were four red checkered placemats and silverware set on her kitchen table. She was balancing four plates on her good hand.

  I put the wine down on the counter and took the plates from her. "Why didn't you wait for us?" I asked. "You're already trying to do too much."

  "I was bored so I decided to set the table." She pulled out a chair and sat down. "But now that you guys are here, I'll let you do the rest. And I'll take a glass of that wine."

  Raine took care of the wine, and I got the glasses down from the cupboard.

  "We are in big trouble with little sis for keeping my accident secret," Lana said.

  I placed a glass on each placemat. "I know. I made things worse by not answering my phone all afternoon. I had no idea they were on their way home. I finally answered a call, and an unusually stern Emily was on the other side of it."

  I sat down across from Lana. "We were just trying not to ruin her weekend. I'm sure she won't stay upset for long. She is bringing us one of her butter and egg dream frittatas."

  "And her corn muffins," Lana added in gleefully. "I would have done one of those frantic, fast clap things to show just how excited I am about the muffins but it's impossible to show joy, in any form, with a mega wrap on my arm. I hope the permanent fiberglass cast will give me a little more freedom to move my fingers."

  "I wouldn't count on it." Raine poured the wine. "I broke my right arm in middle school, and I couldn't even write my name."

  I looked up at her. "How did you break your arm? Or should I ask?"

  "Considering it's me, it was actually a pretty normal, cut and dry kind of arm break. I was carrying my lunch tray to a table, and I couldn't see over the darn thing. Tripped on a stupid backpack. Food tray flew up, macaroni and cheese sprayed everywhere and my right arm, bravely and stupidly, decided it could stop the fall all by itself."

  "Ouch," Lana scrunched up her nose. "My arm hurts just thinking about it."

  "Hello," Emily called from the front door. Newman and Redford hopped to their feet and raced to greet her.

  "Emi, big, silly dogs coming your way," I called. I would not forgive the two clowns if they knocked the corn muffins or frittata out of her hands. I was starved and my tummy was set on both.

  Raine and I got up to help her carry in the food. Emily handed me the basket of corn muffins. She handed Raine a grocery bag filled with goodies for Lana's refrigerator.

  "I've got to go back to the car and get the frittata," Emily said.

  "Do you need me to get anything else?" I asked.

  "Nope, I'll be right back." Emily walked out.

  Raine and I carried the food to the kitchen. "Do the police have any idea about who might have killed her?" she asked.

  "Who got killed?" Lana asked, hearing just the tail end of Raine's question.

  "You didn't hear?" Raine was practically tripping over herself with excitement. "Finally. I never get to break any interesting news to Miss Nose-in-Everything Reporter over here." Raine made a detour from the refrigerator and stopped at the table with the bag of groceries so she could give Lana the full story, even though she knew very few of the details.

  "You know that woman I brought over here last night, Cherise Duvay, the fortune teller?" Raine started and, of course, her long introduction was going to give away the surprise ending.

  Lana sat up with interest. "Someone killed her?"

  Raine's posture deflated. "You knew too?"

  "Know, goofy, you walked into the kitchen talking about someone being killed. Then you brought up your friend. It's called putting two and two together," Lana said.

  "Yeah, I guess I should have started with the gritty stuff." Raine trudged dejectedly to the refrigerator to put away the groceries.

  The delicious scent of Emily's buttery frittata floated in, and we all stopped to take a deep breath. Emily stepped into the kitchen wearing two blue oven mitts and carrying the cast iron pan as if it were filled with priceless jewels. Her thick blonde hair was tied back with a red bandana, and her cheeks were stained pink from the sun. "It's still hot, even after my quick trip into the grocery store."

  "Did you stop at the store?" Lana asked. "You are the most wonderful sister a girl could have."

  I cleared my throat to remind her I was standing just a few feet away.

  Lana laughed. "And you are too, Sunni."

  "That sounded as forced as when you had to tell Aunt Winifred that the itchy wool sweater she knitted you was your absolute favorite." I sat down to drink my wine and nibble a corn muffin.

  "Oh my gosh, I forgot all about that sweater. I had to wear it at Christmas for two years until I finally grew out of it." Lana reached for a muffin. "That thing was pure misery."

  Emily placed the cast iron pan on a trivet in the center of the table and cut the frittata into slices. With the yummy food served, Emily and Lana peeled off into a conversation about how Lana got hurt and everything the doctor said. I used it as my chance to ask Raine a few questions about Cherise.

 
"Hey, Raine, do you think Cherise had a lot of enemies?"

  Raine slathered butter on a muffin. "Not that I know of, but then I didn't know her all that well. She had been dating someone at the carnival, but she mentioned that he was far too clingy and she broke it off." I tried to picture Calvin as clingy but just couldn't visualize it. "She did say that she and the owner of the carnival didn't get along at all."

  That deflated my theory about the affair. "So, she didn't care for Carson Stockton?"

  "No, not Carson." Raine licked the butter from her fingertip. "Carson's wife. I think her name starts with an I or a V. I can't remember what she said."

  "Ivonne," I offered.

  "Yes, that's the name. Cherise said she was worried she might get fired and figured the only reason she still had a job was because Carson liked her." She looked over at my sister. "Emi, this frittata is melting in my mouth."

  "It's delicious, Em. No wonder you're Lana's favorite sister." I winked at Lana, who rolled her eyes in response.

  I turned my focus back to Raine. "Do you think it's possible that Carson liked Cherise a little too much?" I asked.

  Her glasses slid down her nose. She pushed them back up. "What do you mean?"

  "You mentioned that you thought she was seeing a married man. Could it be she was having an affair with her boss?"

  "Who's having an affair?" Lana asked. "The conversation is way better at your end of the table. Enough about broken bones and husbands with sore throats. Who are you talking about?"

  "Cherise, my friend who was murdered," Raine said, before a casual bite of her food.

  Emily's eyes rounded. "Your friend was murdered?"

  "The psychic, Madame Cherise," I filled in the information. "The victim I told you about on the phone."

  "She was having an affair?" Lana obviously wanted to get back to the more scandalous part of the story.

  "I think so," Raine said, and then answered my earlier question. "I suppose it just might have been her boss. Although, he's a good fifteen years older than her." She snapped her fingers. "Maybe that's why Ivonne didn't like Cherise."