The Lovers' Lane ride consisted of swan shaped cars that rolled along a track, a track that led through two doors that were decorated with a large red heart. The heart split neatly in two as the doors swung open and the dingy white swans floated 'serenely' through toward whatever cheesy romantic settings awaited the passengers.
Jackson held my hand firmly in his, a habit that I'd grown fond of. I rested my head against his arm. "I'm feeling exceptionally old standing in this line."
Normally, my quip would have earned at least a chuckle, but my Lovers' Lane partner had grown unusually distracted since we'd stepped into the line.
I lifted my face to peer up at him. "Since I heard no argument to my age comment, I'll assume that you agree."
Jackson's jaw looked quite firm under the day's dark stubble as he stared ahead at a group of older teens who were especially boisterous, two guys and two girls. The kid with exceptionally greasy hair and tattoos across his knuckles was being particularly handsy with a girl, who didn't seem to mind too much. He had a deep southern accent and was throwing out the contraction y'all a lot.
"Jackson," I said quietly. "What has you so distracted? Or are you just reminiscing about your teenage years?"
He pulled his rapt focus away from the rowdy group and offered me what was obviously a forced smile. "It's nothing. Just watching these guys and wondering if I was as big a bozo as them. Probably," he answered himself. He squeezed my hand. "You ready for our big adventure?" The guy running the ride made an announcement that apparently carried through to the dark, walled off section of the ride. "Stay in your swan or you'll be asked to leave the carnival," he warned.
"This ride just became even less romantic," I said. "They must have cameras inside the cozy, dark areas."
"Yeah, they have to keep an eye on the inside because of people like those goofballs up there." He hadn't stopped scrutinizing the group standing a few couples ahead. Occasionally, he would lean to the side to get a better look at them. It was unusual behavior for Jackson.
"It seems that Cody is not back at the controls on this ride," I said, hoping to get his attention back. "Are they still questioning him? He didn't kill Cherise," I whispered.
Once again, he pulled his riveted gaze off the loud group and looked at me. "How do you know that?"
I shrugged. "Relying on my journalistic intuition. According to his girlfriend, Cody hardly even knew Cherise."
"Don't know if you can rely on a girlfriend as a key character witness." His gaze shot ahead. The group that had caught and held his interest was next in line for the swan cars.
I was starting to get miffed. I slowly peeled my hand away from his. "Maybe you should have just eaten the onions," I said curtly.
My sharp tone caught his attention. "Huh? Oh, sorry, it's just that—" His voice trailed off, and his body tensed as he watched the kids climb onto the ride. The loudest boy, the one with the southern drawl, climbed into the second swan with the girl.
"Sunni, prepare to be scowled at. We're going to cut in line." Jackson grabbed my hand and pulled out his badge with the free hand. He flashed it at people as he pulled me to head of the line. I picked up to a jog to keep up with his frenzied pace. He swept past the baffled, and, rightly angered, couple who were just about to step onto the ride.
Jackson held his badge out and instructed the carnie helping people onto the ride that we needed the next swan. The guy looked equally confused. More so after Jackson told him not to let anyone on the ride until we exited. People behind us groaned in protest. The carnie stood by in stunned silence as Jackson gave me a hand into the swan shaped car. He hopped in next.
It was my turn to stare at him in stunned silence but he didn't notice. He was too focused on the swan in front of us, the one that had just pushed through the two doors. The kid leaned back and yelled wahoo! His feet popped up on the side edge of the swan. He crossed one ankle over the other. The jarring movement made his sneakers glow with flickering lights.
I turned to look at him. "You have got to be kidding, Jax."
He kept his laser focus ahead as he spoke to me. "I wish I were."
The heart split open and our long necked swan floated, or, more accurately, waddled into the darkness. Twinkling lights and shiny hearts glittered overhead. A rose scented mist drifted through the air while calming music cascaded down from speakers above. Shabby carnival ride or not, it could almost have been a sweet, romantic ride, if it wasn't for the fact that my kissing partner was as coiled as a lion about to jump on prey. It was hard to keep track of the shoe lights with all the lights glittering overhead.
I was about to ask what his next move was but voices carried easily in the mostly empty room. The tail of the swan ahead of us moved along a curve on the track.
Jackson turned to me, took my face in his hands and kissed me. "Stay put." He heaved himself up and out of the swan. He swatted lights and hearts out of the way and strode past the swan directly in front of us to the next one, where the loudmouth's friend was cuddled with his girl. And there I was, alone in my swan, watching the whole thing unfold under the fragrant mist of the Lovers' Lane ride. I hadn't noticed how tightly I was holding the edge of the swan until my fingertips tingled with numbness.
"Hey, dude, you're not supposed to be walking around on this ride," the guy two swans ahead yelled at the tall figure walking next to them.
"Yeah, kind of funny to be told the rules by a bank robber." Jackson reached into the swan and yanked the kid out. The girl squeaked in surprise as she suddenly found herself alone in the swan as it meandered through the last turn of the ride.
Jackson had moved so fast, it took the guy with the flashy shoes a second to realize what was happening. He jumped out of the swan and ran toward the emergency exit. Jackson's foot shot out and sent the guy sailing headfirst into a bouquet of giant silk roses.
"Lights, please," Jackson yelled up to the overhead intercom.
Blinding stage lights came on and brought the entire scene into view. Both boys were stretched out on their stomachs, with hands behind their heads. Jackson stood over them with his gun pointed down.
I leaned out and looked back. The carnie had followed Jackson's order not to allow on any more passengers. The swans behind me chugged along with no riders.
Jackson pulled out his phone. "Hanson, this is Jackson. I'm going to need both of you over at the Lovers' Lane ride," Jackson continued. "And call for some backup. We need to haul in a couple of bank robbers." Jackson winked at me as I rode past.
A few people hid smiles and giggles behind their hands as they saw me float out of Lovers' Lane alone in my swan car. The two girls who had also left the ride without their partners had already exited and stood huddled together, looking as lost and confused as two girls could be.
By the time I circled back to the front of the ride, where angry line waiters were being told the ride was closed, Officer Hanson and his partner had reached Lovers' Lane. They were communicating with Jackson as they followed the tracks through the doors and into the interior.
Fifteen minutes later, two police cars were escorted slowly through the crowd by, of all people, Calvin. They rolled up and parked behind the ride.
Jackson emerged a few minutes later looking pleased with himself. I headed toward him and gave him a hug. "I wonder how many other girls enter Lovers' Lane with big, brave boyfriends who catch bad guys in the middle of it all."
"Thought the ride needed a little more adventure," he quipped. "I think I need to follow this up with an ice cream." He took hold of my hand, and we headed toward the ice cream stand.
"How did you know for sure you had the bank robbers? I'm going to assume you didn't yank a kid out of the ride just because he was wearing flashing shoes."
"The shoes were the final detail that made me certain. A lot of the witnesses said the one guy was really loud with a Southern accent and he liked to say y'all. Like 'y'all get down on the floor and we won't shoot y'all'. Once he forgot his gloves, and the bank teller
said the guy had tattoos on his knuckles. When I saw the light-up shoes, I figured I had enough to go on."
"Job well done, Detective Jackson. That is one Lovers' Lane ride I will never forget."
Chapter 32
I was feeling a touch giddy about my next move. My intuition told me that I was heading in the right direction for the investigation. I was so anxious to start the new day and uncover new details, I only had to hit the snooze alarm once.
Armed with my portable cup of coffee and one of Emily's banana nut muffins wrapped in a napkin, I rolled right past the newspaper office and pointed the nose of my jeep toward the Colonial Bridge and eventually the town of Smithville.
Jackson rang through on bluetooth. I tapped the screen to answer it. "Hello, handsome!"
"You sound extra cheery this morning," he said.
"Well, it's a brand new day with brand new evidence to uncover."
His deep chuckle added to the beauty of the new morning. "I wish I had your enthusiasm on cases. Maybe we should switch jobs. On second thought, scratch that. I got terrible grades in English."
"I think you'd be a great writer." I plucked my coffee cup from the cup holder and took a sip.
"I let Reed know about the money hidden behind the poster. I also wanted to let you know that they released that kid, Cody, pretty fast. His story totally checked out. Lots of people to corroborate. He was working the Lovers' Lane ride at the time of the murder. The killer must have grabbed his sweatshirt to cover his clothes and avoid blood splatter. "
"His?" I asked. "You're still thinking it's a man?"
"I think Reed was going to focus on the disgruntled ex-boyfriend next. Calvin, the maintenance man. Why? Are you leaning toward another person of interest?"
I curled my lips in trying to decide just how much I should offer. I'd solved a murder during the holiday season, only it ended in near disaster. I hadn't been able to live that tiny, harrowing fiasco down yet. I wanted to cleanly uncover the mystery and then neatly hand over the name to Jackson, without putting myself in danger. I wanted to prove to him that I could safely run my own investigation.
"Let's just say, I've got some prospects. But you'll be the first to know if I uncover anything significant."
"So, you're using me for insider information, but you're going to leave me in the dark about your next move."
"What insider information? It would've been easy enough to find out that they released Cody. I've got sources, after all."
"Of course you do. Just don't do anything—"
"Dangerous. Yes, we've been through this before, Jax. I'm going to keep my nose clear of confrontation with murderers. I promise."
There was just enough pause on his side to assure me he wasn't completely convinced. "I'm going to have to take your word for it, Bluebird. Maybe we can meet for lunch. Now that the bank robbery case is finally over, I've got a little spare time."
"That sounds good to me. I'll be hungry after all my sleuthing this morning."
A small, resigned sigh came through the speakers. "All right, P.I. Taylor, I'll call you later."
"Bye. I'll let you know if I find out anything."
The call disconnected just as I reached the big industrial building and its three smaller outbuildings. The Wright Electric logo was painted across the door fronts. My newest thread of investigation caused me to think back to that fateful day Carson discovered that Cherise had been murdered. It was only two days ago, but it felt as if weeks had passed. I'd had a few crazy busy days checking in on Lana, helping her with the business, making sure that Emily's critters were all happy and healthy and at the same time dealing with a moody ghost and my two energetic house contractors. In the chaos, I'd managed to push some inconsequential details of that day to the back of my mind. But my new theory brought them out of the shadows and moved them from inconsequential to relevant.
The carnival had started out wonderfully for Melinda. She had been crowned queen of the Spring Fair, and she had just received an apparently much anticipated proposal and diamond ring from Sutton Wright Jr., the heir to the Wright Electric company. Jackson had mentioned that Sutton senior died on the job. It was coincidentally the one day he'd gone to work without his lucky hat. The tragedy had caused Junior to become highly superstitious. Nothing about that trivial detail should have raised alarm bells when I started looking for Cherise's killer but now it was my central focus. On that same day, I was nearly run down by an anxious pair of women, both wearing the signature neon pink Wright Electric shirts, as they headed toward Cherise's tent. They seemed determined to have their fortunes told, or, at least, that was my best assessment of the situation. By the following morning, Melinda's wonderful week had gone terribly south. She was still Spring Fair Queen but the diamond ring was gone and her friends were busily trying to console her. It was easy to conclude that the engagement was off.
I parked the jeep in one of the many open spots. There were a few massive work trucks, complete with human lifts and complicated looking equipment, parked at the side of the large industrial building. It was easy to spot the office and headquarters because the name and address of the company were printed on the door.
One large desk sat in the front room of the office. There was no one sitting behind it. The walls were covered with various safety reminder posters and one of those 'days without a workplace accident' charts. It had been an impressive ninety-eight days since the last mishap. A whiteboard on the opposite wall listed job sites, locations and workers at the site. Jackson was correct. Wright Electric did a booming business.
The phone on the desk rang and footsteps hurried down a tiled hallway to the front of the office. I recognized the woman instantly as the girl I'd pegged as Sutton's sister. She looked very similar and she was close in age. The woman was surprised to see me standing inside the office. She put up her finger, letting me know she'd be right with me as she picked up the phone with her free hand.
"Wright Electric, this is Jane speaking."
I didn't want to stand rudely by and listen in on her conversation, especially because it was just a business call, so I walked over to check out the painting on the wall. Someone had masterfully executed the entire lot of Wright Electric buildings. It wasn't the most intriguing subject for artwork, but the artist had done a nice job.
"How can I help you?" Jane Wright asked as she hung up the phone. "Are you with Traver Construction?"
"No, actually, I'm with the Junction Times."
"I've already told Mr. Seymour that we don't need an entire page of ad space. There's already a waiting list for our services."
I stepped closer to the desk. Jane had exceptionally smooth skin and a small overbite. She also didn't seem interested in talking to me. She sat down at her desk.
"What can I do for you?" she asked. "I have a lot of work to do,"
I had formulated a plan, albeit, a weak plan, on my way to Wright Electric. With her curt attempt at a dismissal, it was getting weaker by the minute. I pulled out my pass, which she took a longer than cursory look at.
"Sunni Taylor. Yes, I've read some of your work." There was no compliment or opinion offered, which relieved and irritated me all at once. She peered up at me. "I still don't understand why you're here."
"Of course, let me explain," I added a light laugh, hoping to make her warm up. The chill continued as she leaned back and crossed her arms.
"If this is about that broken contract, that was the city's fault, not ours. The developer has already shifted his lawsuit to the city. You should go there for an interview."
It seemed she was someone who didn't mind giving out information easily. I hoped that was going to work in my favor.
"Actually, it's not about a broken contract."
Her face blanched some as she seemed to realize she'd just blurted out private company business to a local reporter. Fortunately, for her, I couldn't have cared less about a lawsuit.
"This might seem out of the blue but I'm writing an article about the Sprin
g Fair and the Stockton Carnival."
Her mouth pulled tight. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "What does Wright Electric have to do with the carnival?"
"Well, I believe Sutton Wright—" I paused and squinted one eye. "Your brother, I presume, since there's a strong family resemblance."
"Yes, Sutton is my brother," she said warily, as if I was digging out some vast and explosive secret.
"I know he's engaged to the Spring Fair Queen. I was at the crowning ceremony and saw the big announcement. Congratulations on your new sister-in-law."
Her face tightened, and she squirmed even more on her chair. "Yes, well, anyhow, I have lots to do. If you don't mind." She picked up a notebook and started searching through it. I was fairly certain she was just using it as prop to show how busy she was.
"Just a quick question," I said. "I should have started with this. I'm sure you, no doubt, heard about the tragedy at the carnival." She didn't respond so I continued. She wasn't thrilled when I pulled out my notebook, but I needed my prop too. "I've decided to gather a little collection of Cherise Duvay's last fortunes. I thought it would be a nice way to pay tribute to her talents." Jane didn't look too convinced but I forged ahead. "I thought you might be able to add something to the collection."
Her mouth opened and then clamped shut and then opened again. "I—I don't understand why you're asking me."
"Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that the day before Cherise's murder, I was visiting the carnival. I just happened to see you and another woman, I think possibly your mother, walking into her tent." I motioned toward her t-shirt. "The neon pink caught my eye that day. I was standing in front of Cherise's tent when the two of you went in for your fortune. Of course, you don't have to give any specific, personal details, but in general, was it a good reading? Did Cherise say anything of note, something, as they say, providential?"
Jane seemed to be searching for a way out of the entire conversation. I half expected her just to ask me to leave the premises, but surprisingly, she opted for a logical response. It was possible she was worried about a negative comment in the paper. Sometimes the power of the press was indeed powerful.
Calamity at the Carnival Page 15
