by Steve Laracy
Ben eased his car into the lot and found a space about fifty yards back. We walked across the road to the fence, which announced we had arrived at the Tri-County Fairgrounds. Like the parking lot, the fairground was more open desert, this time with a fence in front of it.
Rather than just walk around the fence, which was no longer than fifty feet, Ben walked up to a ticket booth in the middle and asked for three adult tickets.
The ticket taker was a middle-aged woman wearing a big smile and a T-shirt that read “Fairest of the Fair.”
“A dollar fifty,” the woman said, still smiling.
Ben paid, the woman ripped three orange tickets off a roll in front of her and gave them to Ben, Ben distributed the tickets, and the three of us entered the fairgrounds.
The entrance gave way to a midway, familiarly consisting of booths offering various games of chance alternating with booths offering fair food such as popcorn, hot dogs, and funnel cake. To the back and to the left of the midway were several small rides, including a small Ferris wheel.
After a stroll down the midway, interrupted by several stops as Ben and Phil—I refrained—took turns throwing baseballs at milk bottles and shooting little popguns at tin rabbits revolving around the back of the booth, Ben and Phil grabbed a hot dog. Again, I refrained. We then walked around the fairgrounds for a while. Ben introduced me to some locals, but I didn’t recognize anyone until Sam ran up and grabbed my hand to pull me in the direction of her family. Phil and Ben headed back to the midway for more fun.
Sam took me over and introduced me to her parents, Bert and Millie, who were talking to Felicity. She then introduced her younger brother, Skipper, and her dog, Pard, the scruffy mutt I had seen in the car. By the looks of Skipper’s blue lips, he was either freezing to death in the desert heat or he had visited the cotton candy booth on the midway. I deduced that cotton candy was the culprit.
While Sam and Skipper had a somewhat heated discussion about whether to hit the merry-go-round or the whip next, Bert, who had the family’s red hair, a shade somewhere between Sam’s and Felicity’s, said, “We’re heading over to the stadium to catch the parachute drop. Care to join us?”
“Sure,” I replied. I could use an excuse to sit down, I thought. “I’ll grab Ben and Phil and meet you over there.”
“Will you be able to find them in the crowd?” Felicity asked.
“Don’t worry, I know where to look,” I said, turning toward the hot dog stand.
Ben, Phil, and I headed for the stadium while they munched on their hot dogs. Along the way, Ben pointed out various people he was familiar with. He motioned toward two men talking to each other near the entrance to the stadium, which faced the fairgrounds. One was wearing a police officer uniform a size or two too small for his belly. The other wore jeans, a plaid shirt, and cowboy boots and hat.
“The one in uniform is Chief Baker, the Bell City police chief. The man with him is the sheriff of Chiquita, Jim Turner.”
We bypassed them and entered the stadium, which a sign identified as the home of the Chiquita Scorpions. Inside was a football field that showed equal portions of grass and dirt, and bleacher seats on opposite sides. After locating the Fremonts we walked up several rows and sat on the bench in front of them. Felicity, Bert, and Millie had been joined by Doc and Leo. We said our hellos and I inquired about the kids.
“They stayed behind with the rides,” Millie said. “We’ll pick them up after.”
A large circle had been drawn in chalk in the center of the field as a target for the parachutist. A local dignitary was standing in the circle with a microphone, introducing the parachute jump.
“Mayor of Chiquita,” Ben said, and then pointing to a young woman a few rows in front of us, “and that’s Annie Webster. Her husband, Billy, is the parachute jumper.”
We waited a few minutes, chatting with the group behind us until the sound of a small plane was heard. A few cheers went up from the crowd as we all tried to spot the plane, which was not yet in view.
Far up in the sky, a one-propeller plane appeared, first as a dot and gradually becoming larger. The plane dropped altitude and flew several circles around the field to more cheers before ascending again and making its approach for the parachute drop.
Once the plane had reached altitude and was nearing the stadium, a small figure appeared in the door of the plane, lingered for a few seconds, then jumped. We watched with anticipation, waiting for the parachute to open, which it did after Billy had floated for a few seconds. He was still a small spot in the sky as he wrestled with the parachute to direct it to the landing spot.
After a few more seconds, it was clear that he was not going to make it to the intended target but was drifting to the west, away from the stadium and over the fairground. We turned around to keep him in view. As Billy continued to drift several hundred feet from the ground, the parachute gave way and separated from him. Billy began a free fall, and a collective gasp came from the crowd. As he fell, he put his arms straight out and opened his legs.
There was a moment of silence until he fell from view behind the stadium walls. He was now too far away for us to hear the sound when he hit the ground.
It was another moment before everyone sprang into action. Most of the men got up and headed for the exit, including our group. Ben turned around and said, “You ladies stay here. Doc, you better come with us.”
As we were rushing from the stands, I heard Millie shout, “The kids!” and Millie, Bert, Felicity, and Leo hurried behind us to search for Sam and Skipper.
We ran out and headed toward the cars. I noticed that the fairgrounds had gone quiet and realized that the people on the fairgrounds had had a better view than we in the stadium as Billy traveled overhead.
Most of the men rushed to the parking lot and piled into cars Keystone Kop fashion, including Ben, Phil, Doc, and I, who jumped into Ben’s car. I saw Chief Baker lead Annie Webster to his police cruiser and take off with the siren blaring as we all proceeded west to find the crash site.
It didn’t take long. The body had landed just on the other side of the dirt road intersection we had passed on the way in.
By the time we arrived at the scene, several men had already reached Billy and were standing around the body, not sure of what to do. Ben and I cleared a path so Doc could get through.
Billy was lying face down in the same spread-eagle position we had seen as he fell. We rolled him over so Doc could examine him. After a moment spent checking for a pulse and signs of breathing, Doc said, “He’s alive, barely.”
By this time Annie had made her way to the front of the crowd. She screamed when she saw Billy and rushed forward. Jim Turner grabbed her with both hands and said, “Don’t, Annie.”
She shook loose, gave Jim a hateful look, and screamed, “Let go of me!” Jim let go but Annie stayed where she was.
By this time an ambulance had arrived from Chiquita, and the emergency technicians hurried over to get Billy on the stretcher and into the ambulance.
“Careful, boys,” Doc instructed. “I think every bone in his body is broken.”
When Billy was in the ambulance, Doc and Annie got in the back and the ambulance reversed its course and headed to Chiquita.
Chief Baker made a futile attempt to restore order and yelled above the crowd, “Everyone back away. This is a crime scene.” After everyone had moved back about a step and a half, the chief motioned for Jim Turner and Ben to come over. Phil and I wandered over with Ben.
“I think it’s clear that this was an accident,” Chief Baker said, “but I better investigate anyway. I’ll have some of my boys cordon off the area to maintain the integrity of the accident scene.”
“It’s a little late for that,” said Jim, “and I’ll lead the investigation since the accident happened in my jurisdiction.”
“Sorry, boys, you’re both wrong,” Ben declared with a calm authority I hadn’t seen before. He motioned toward the intersection and the street sign.
&
nbsp; “He landed on the Cordoba side of County Line Road. That means he’s in Culver County and that means it’s Cordoba’s investigation.”
“But Billy’s a citizen of Bell City,” Chief Baker protested.
“But his intended landing spot was in Chiquita,” protested Jim Turner.
Ben responded. “Say a fellow lives in Los Angeles and decides to take a trip to New York City. He jumps in his car and takes off, but before he can reach New York, he gets bumped off in Albuquerque. Who handles the murder investigation? The LAPD? The NYPD? No. The Albuquerque police investigate the crime. Well, Billy landed in Albuquerque, and we’ll handle the investigation.”
Chief Baker and Jim Turner were silent for a minute or two, trying to find a flaw in Ben’s logic. Finally, Chief Baker responded, “But Cordoba doesn’t even have a sheriff. Hasn’t had one in years.”
Ben responded quickly. “By a stroke of luck, I hired a sheriff this morning.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Meet Milo Forbes, my new sheriff, just arrived from San Diego.”
The chief and Jim looked incredulously at me. I’m sure my dumbstruck look didn’t help.
Before I could mutter anything, Chief Baker said as he stomped off, “Fine. It’s just an accident anyway.”
Jim said, “In that case, I’ll get to town and check on Billy.”
After they had left, Ben turned to me and said, “What do we do next, Sheriff?”
“You can cut the charade, Ben,” I said, somewhat annoyed. “They’ve all left.”
Ben smiled. “Let’s get back to the fairground and make sure everyone’s okay.”
We drove back and found the group we had left behind. The Fremonts and Leo had found Sam and Skipper on the fairgrounds. They had been riding the whip when the accident occurred and saw nothing, Sam being busy screaming and Skipper trying to keep his cotton candy down.
Bert, Millie, Felicity, and the kids were heading toward the parking lot. Phil told Leo that Doc had gone to Chiquita with the ambulance, so she got into their car and drove to Chiquita to pick him up.
On our way to Ben’s car, we saw a dusty pickup truck pull into the lot, now half empty, and Indian Charlie jumped out. “Look what I found,” he said.
We looked in the back of the pickup, and there was Billy’s parachute.
“I found it about a half mile from the body,” Charlie said. “I waited to show it to you until Chief Baker left.” His distaste for Chief Baker was obvious.
“Why wait?” asked Ben.
“I didn’t want him to see this,” Charlie responded. He pulled out the parachute and pointed to a spot on the leather harness that had held the parachute to Billy.
There were clear markings that the harness had been cut through with a knife.
> CHAPTER 14
MAN WITH A BADGE
Ben instructed Charlie to drop the parachute off at the sheriff’s office, and Ben, Phil, and I got in Ben’s car and headed that way too. Most of the conversation centered on the events of the day, but there were periods of silence when the three of us tried to process the events in our heads.
When we got back to town, Ben dropped Phil off at the grocery store and Ben and I proceeded to the municipal building, where Indian Charlie was unloading the parachute from his pickup. He carried it into the sheriff’s office and dumped it in a vacant corner. As he was leaving Ben said to him, “Thanks, Charlie. Keep what we saw our secret for a while.”
“I won’t say anything, Ben,” replied Charlie. “I’ll see you guys later.”
Ben and I walked into his office, and he again motioned me to the chair opposite his desk as he took his seat.
“Thanks for not exposing my slight misstatement today, Milo. It would have been embarrassing.”
“You’re welcome, but I don’t know whether I’d characterize it as a slight misstatement. And how long do you intend to keep up with it before you turn over the investigation?”
“That depends on you, Milo. I’d like to officially hire you as sheriff, if you are willing.”
Before Ben could go any further, I stopped him.
“Are you crazy? I’m only here for a few days. And either Chief Baker or Jim Turner is better equipped to handle the inquiry. I don’t want to get involved, so if you don’t mind, I’ll mind my own business and spend an uneventful few days in Cordoba until my car is ready, at which point I’ll head back to San Diego.”
“I understand, Milo. It was foolish of me to ask. But let me tell you why I did what I did back there. I was trying to keep both Chief Baker and Jim Turner out of the investigation since they both have a history with Billy Webster.
“Billy and Jim grew up together in Chiquita. Best friends, played on the football team together. Annie Lee was Jim’s girlfriend back then. After high school, Jim joined the Air Force. Annie said she’d wait for him to return. After a few years, a girl gets lonely and Annie started seeing Billy. First word Jim got of it was when he got the wedding invitation in the mail.
Needless to say, Jim was not happy. When he got back about three years ago, he had an angry confrontation with Billy and Annie, and he hasn’t spoken to either since. He settled back in Chiquita and became sheriff last year.
“Billy and Annie moved to Bell City, partly to get away from Jim, I think. Billy got a job at the airport in Bell City. He always wanted to fly. He’s been in and out of work with medical problems, cancer, I think. Annie works as a waitress in a Bell City restaurant, so they make ends meet.”
“What about Chief Baker?” I interrupted.
“Chief Baker is a loudmouth and a bully. He stays in office more by intimidation than by popularity. One night last year, he had too much to drink at the restaurant where Annie works and made a pass at her. Billy, who was there, decked the chief, knocked him out cold. The chief didn’t arrest Billy due to embarrassment, but ever since then he’s been making Billy’s life miserable, harassing him, traffic stops, things like that. Billy decided to run against Chief Baker for the sheriff’s job next year, and there’s a good chance he might win since Bell City is growing tired of the chief’s antics.
“So you see, Milo, I don’t think either of them would give the investigation the time it deserves. Everyone likes Annie and I think Annie at least deserves closure. Besides, if this turns out to be more than an accident, as that parachute harness suggests, both Chief Baker and Jim could be considered suspects.”
“I see your point, Ben, but I’m not qualified to be sheriff, and I’ll only be here for a few days.”
“You’re as qualified as they are. All I ask is that you spend a little time while you’re here looking into the matter. If you have nothing by the time your car is ready, I’ll turn everything over to the state police.”
“Well, I guess I can live with those terms. But it will cut into the time spent searching for the prowler and looking for Doc’s magazines.”
“Great,” Ben replied quickly, fearful that I might change my mind. “Let me see here.” He searched through the drawers in his desk.
After rooting around for a few seconds, he pulled out a wallet made of cheap plastic, unsuccessfully intended to look like leather. He opened it up and I saw a tin star with the word “Sheriff” imprinted on it pinned to one side of the wallet. The other side had a compartment with a plastic window. The compartment was empty.
Ben searched in another drawer and came out with a stack of cards held together with a rubber band. He pulled a card from the pile and grabbed a pen. The cards had writing on one side with some blank spaces for information to be added. He filled in the blanks, stuffed the card in the pocket of the wallet, and proudly handed it to me. I looked briefly at the badge and read the card.
This is to certify that Milo Forbes has been appointed Sheriff of the town of Cordoba, county of Culver, State of California.
Ben had signed and dated the card at the bottom. Noting the enthusiasm Ben showed in completing the card, and the general wording, I wondered how many he had distributed to the citizens of Cordoba
. Did Phil have one appointing him general store owner?
“I better swear you in to make this official,” Ben said, rising from his chair. I also stood up.
“I don’t have a Bible in the office, so I’ll replace it with another book,” Ben continued.
Unfortunately, there did not seem to be any other books in Ben’s office. After searching for a minute or two, Ben’s eyes lit on the comic book he had been reading the previous afternoon.
“This will have to do,” he said, picking up the comic book and solemnly holding it out in front of him. “Place your right hand on the Bi…book and raise your left hand and repeat after me.”
Ignoring the comic tone of the proceedings, I did as instructed.
Ben intoned, “Do you, Milo Forbes, swear to perform the duties of sheriff of the town of Cordoba to the best of your abilities and to uphold the laws of the State of California?”
“I do,” I responded, avoiding the temptation to add, “so help me, Archie.”
“Good,” said Ben. He handed me the comic book. “You can keep this as a souvenir. I’ve finished reading it. That Jughead is a real hoot.”
He then led me to the sheriff’s office, comic book in hand, so I could begin my new duties. I threw the book on the desk, and Ben and I went over to inspect the parachute. As Indian Charlie had pointed out, the leather strap had been cut or ripped through in an area behind a buckle that held the harness to the jumper’s body. The parachute and harness were old, so it was difficult to determine if this was done deliberately or was the result of wear.
Ben and I examined the rest of the parachute, but since neither one of us had ever examined a parachute before and neither had any idea what to look for, the examination was quick and inconclusive.
