Carbs & Cadavers

by J. B. Stanley

  “Yes, we do have first names, Billy. Can you wrap up this bowl for Mrs. Samson?”

  “Sure, Miss Perez,” the boy smirked.

  “Looks like you’re making a killing here.” James observed.

  “I’ve never had people throwing money at me so fast!” she exclaimed, her face flushed with exertion. “I think I could get used to it, too.” She bestowed a prideful glance at the students surrounding her. “My kids have really been the heroes though. They spent so many hours making these pieces but once when they heard about Whitney, they gave them up just like that.” Lucy snapped her fingers. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “We have over five hundred dollars already.”

  “Excuse me,” a snide voice demanded attention. “My daughter and her fiancé would like to purchase that cobalt bowl. Do you think we could have some service?”

  “Hello, Mrs. Shilling.” Lindy offered the polite salutation through gritted teeth. “And hello, Allison,” she said to the young woman standing behind her mother wearing a bored expression. Her tan arms were folded across her small chest and she glanced around the crowd as if searching for something or someone truly worth looking at. Finally, her icy blue eyes settled on the round face of her former art teacher.

  “Hi, Miss Perez,” Allison muttered.

  “Congratulations on your engagement!” Lindy forced herself to sound enthusiastic. “Let’s see your ring.”

  Allison held out her left hand limply. James couldn’t help but whistle at the size of Allison’s ring. He had seen smaller rocks at a limestone quarry. The diamond was so large that it appeared to be weighing down the girl’s thin finger. Allison’s fingernails were painted a pale pink and each nail bore a small rhinestone in the center. James wondered what kind of job a person could have and still manage to keep ten rhinestones intact on the ends of her fingernails.

  “Wow! You could use that thing as a disco ball!” Lindy laughed good-naturedly. “And is this your husband-to-be?” Lindy gave the young man at Allison’s elbow a sincere smile.

  “Chase Radford is the son of our own Senator Radford,” Mrs. Shilling bragged when Allison didn’t respond. “He has just graduated from Georgetown University with a law degree. He plans to follow in his father’s footsteps.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Chase reached in front of his fiancée in order to shake Lindy’s hand. His arm brushed Allison’s and she recoiled from it in annoyance. She tugged at her mother’s sleeve and said, “Let’s get going, Mother.” Chase seemed oblivious to his fiancée’s negative body language.

  Turning to her, he ran a hand through her long, wavy brown hair and gazed at her with nothing short of adoration. James and Lindy exchanged befuddled glances.

  Mrs. Shilling paid for her pottery and gave her daughter a sidelong warning glare. “Come on, Chase,” she said, hooking her arm in Chase’s. “Let’s find out how we can donate our fine mare to the silent auction. We Shillings believe very much in helping out our neighbors.”

  “Good luck today, ma’am.” Chase gestured at the artwork as he was being led away. “You must be a mighty fine teacher to have such gifted artists in your classes. Bye now!”

  “Well!” Lindy exhaled. “What is that darling boy thinking by getting himself involved with that pair of shrews?”

  “They both looked like they’ve been raised sucking on lemons,” James said, watching Allison plod sulkily along next to her mother.

  “Or sour milk,” Lindy sniggered. “Allison spent most of high school away at the Portsmouth School for Girls. Not to be catty, but I heard the Shilling princess left in disgrace the end of her junior year. Now she goes to Sweet Briar and is in the Equine Studies Program. I guess Allison’s on mid-term break right now.” Lindy ran her hand over the surface of a pottery sap dish. “Believe it or not, she and Whitney used to be friends.”

  James raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I can’t picture that.”

  Lindy shrugged. “Whitney grew up, while Allison didn’t. Whitney has had to pitch in to help her parents make ends meet and Allison still just puts her hand out and then goes shopping. Must be nice.”

  “She certainly doesn’t look happy,” James said.

  “No joke. I’ve never seen such a miserable bride-to-be. Chase is clearly nuts about her, but Allison looks like she’d rather have a cavity drilled than hang out with him.” Lindy paused to hand a customer two coffee mugs to examine. “You seen any of the other Flab Fives?”

  “Just Gillian. She’s washing dogs like crazy. You?”

  “I saw Bennett earlier,” Lindy said. “He and the other county postal workers have gotten together a row of carnival games. Bennett is running the balloon toss booth where kids can pop balloons with a dart.” She giggled. “He looked as white as a swan watching those darts fly all over the place. I do believe kids may scare him even more than Lucy’s dogs!”

  “Did I hear my name?” Lucy appeared from behind a pack of boys holding boxes of popcorn and sticks of pink and blue cotton candy. “Lindy! Your booth is wonderful! Hi, James. What are you up to?”

  “I’m heading over to the silent auction tent. I’ve got some comic books and stuff, and my pop gave me a mystery box to donate as well.”

  “I’ll walk you over. I’ve been given an unofficial job by Sheriff Huckabee to keep an ‘eye on things.’” She held up a walkie-talkie. “See? I even have one of the boys’ toys.”

  “What? No gun?” Lindy teased. “Some kid might get high off too many caramel apples and turn Bennett into a pincushion.”

  Lucy laughed so hard she had to put a hand on the table to steady herself. “I saw him! He is standing in a corner of his booth cowering like a little girl who’s seen a really big spider.”

  “I’d better give my artists a hand,” Lindy said, noting the growing line in front of the table containing the paintings and masks. “Though I don’t know how I’m going to get out of here today without a funnel cake. You guys bring any duct tape? You might need to physically restrain me when I pass by that booth.”

  James and Lucy were in high spirits as they headed to the silent auction tent. Lucy carried one of the boxes of comic books while James struggled beneath the weight of a box of books and his father’s large, rectangular box, which was firmly sealed with brown packaging tape.

  The members of the Shenandoah County Historical Society had offered to run the silent auction booth, and James was amazed at the quality of goods they had managed to solicit within a few days. Jewelry, gift certificates, baskets of Virginia-made wine and gourmet foods, plane tickets, weekend getaways, antique silver and glassware, and more were tastefully arranged on maroon tablecloths. James nervously unwrapped his Marvel comics and signed horror novels, but one of the volunteers in the booth thanked him heartily for donating such valuable items.

  “You’ve got quite a collection of items here. Very impressive,” James praised the nearest volunteer and left bids for the gift certificates donated by a handyman service and a steak restaurant in Harrisonburg.

  “These are great,” the woman agreed. “But Shilling’s Stables has just donated our most amazing item yet. They’ve given us one of their thoroughbreds! And a writer from The Washington Post took a picture of me accepting the horse! My goodness, can you believe the generosity of Mrs. Shilling?” The woman was practically shrieking with excitement.

  James shook his head. “Pretty hard to believe,” he said under his breath as the woman turned away. He spied Lucy on the other side of the booth, scribbling bids on several clipboards, her face alight with the enjoyment of her activity. Finally, James could turn his attention to the contents of his father’s box. He tried to cut the tape using his car keys, but was unsuccessful. He was just about to ask one of the women working in the booth if she had a pair of scissors when Lucy fastened a clawlike grip on his forearm.

  “There’s Amelia!” she shouted. “Quick! We’ve got to get some information out of that girl!”

  “But—” James stammered, his hand still fastened to his f
ather’s box.

  “Ladies! This box is yours, too!” Lucy removed James’s hand and pulled him along after her.

  Lucy hustled behind Amelia’s knockout figure. She was easy to spot in the crowd due to the neon-orange top she wore. James thought that most women would have looked like construction flagmen in such a shade, but Amelia seemed to wear the tight top like a runway model. In fact, she even strutted across the uneven field as if she were on a catwalk in Milan. James found himself fixating on the saucy wiggle of her curvaceous derriere.

  “She’s getting in line at the Adam’s Ribs booth,” Lucy said, finally withdrawing her hand from James’s arm. She pumped her own arms in a furious, fast-paced walk and stepped into the line a few customers behind Amelia.

  “Excuse me,” she said sweetly to a man in a cowboy hat standing behind Amelia. “I don’t want to be rude and cut in front, but do you mind if I chat with my friend here while we’re all waiting?”

  “Sure thing, honey,” the man said, tipping his hat. Lucy smiled, momentarily beguiled. James wished he possessed the man’s natural charm as well as his washboard stomach, which was clearly visible beneath the thin cotton of his white T-shirt.

  “Hello, Amelia. You remember me from a few Saturdays ago?” Lucy asked.

  Amelia nodded, her large, golden brown eyes flickered with fear and she took a minute step away from Lucy as if already in retreat. James examined her face for the second time. When he had seen her through the bakery window, he had formed an impression of a young woman with a plain face and a killer body, but as he looked at her more closely, he noticed that her facial features actually seemed a bit skewed. Her eyes were too far apart and her nose was narrow and too pointed. Her lips were thin and drawn and her cheeks were wide and flat.

  “Don’t worry,” Lucy spoke up as James was giving Amelia the once-over. “We’re just here for the chili cheese fries. You know Professor Henry?”

  Amelia shrugged. “I’ve seen him at the library.” She turned to James and added in a husky, flirtatious voice. “I don’t go much because you don’t carry enough fashion magazines. Could you order a few more, like W and Glamour?” She leaned toward him so that he had a clear view of her resplendent cleavage.

  “I’ll look into it,” James assured her, uneasy with her abrupt change in manner when addressing him.

  “I’m glad to see you out here, Amelia,” Lucy intervened, a scowl on her face. She kept her tone neutral, however. “Whitney’s family needs all the help they can get.”

  Amelia shrugged again. “I’m workin’ the haunted hayride down at Miller’s farm tonight. He’s extended it through the weekend just for the Livingstones.” She looked at the ground as the line took a step forward. “Have you seen Whitney?” she asked in a soft voice, which suddenly sounded very young.

  “Yes,” Lucy replied. “She’s banged up, but she’s going to be okay.”

  Amelia released a deep breath. Her tense body relaxed and a smirk came to her face. “So it wasn’t that big a deal then, huh?”

  James could tell that Lucy was fighting to control her temper. He could see her compact hands balling themselves up into clenched fists. “It was a big deal. She got run over, Amelia. She’s lucky to be alive.” Lucy quickly lowered her voice. “What I don’t understand is why Whitney would want to protect you when you don’t even give a damn that she nearly died a few nights back!”

  Amelia’s eyes flew open wide. “Protect me? I don’t need her protection,” she hissed.

  “Let’s start with the fact that you spent the night at Whitney’s over Labor Day weekend. That means you could have stolen the drug that Brinkley was poisoned with.”

  The line moved forward, but Amelia stood rooted to the ground, her mouth agape as if she were sucking on an ice cream cone made of air.

  “How did . . . Whitney went narc on me . . . ?” Amelia whined in disbelief.

  “Someone tried to kill her, Amelia. You can hardly blame her for coming clean. So where were you on Halloween night?”

  “I was home with my ma,” Amelia snapped, regaining her confidence. “You can ask her.” She looked ahead of her. Only two people stood between her and her snack. “I’m not even hungry anymore, thanks a lot!” she barked at Lucy and began to walk away.

  “Whatever was on Brinkley’s cell phone is still on there!” James surprised himself by calling after her.

  Amelia froze as Lucy gave James a startled look. Slowly, as if she were walking through knee-deep water, Amelia headed back toward them.

  “What do you mean?” she asked James, her flat face filled with a mixture of childish petulance and fear. “It was smashed.”

  “The memory is in a chip,” James answered hurriedly, unsure of whether he even spoke the truth. “The sheriff can get it examined if someone points it out to him.”

  Without warning, Amelia sagged against his chest, and began to sob dramatically. “He had pictures of me! No one can ever see them!”

  At that crucial moment, the threesome had reached the front of the line. Despite her confusion, Lucy ordered two plates of chili cheese fries as James led Amelia over to a row of plastic folding chairs and pulled three chairs away from the feasting customers.

  “Did he ask you for money?” Lucy inquired gently.

  Amelia nodded wordlessly. She pressed her face into a paper napkin and blew her nose loudly. “I had a modeling job last year, my first one. Some guy put an ad in the Charlottesville paper and I read it while I was getting a haircut at Shear Elegance. Five hundred dollars guaranteed for swimsuit models. I knew I had to get that gig. I’ve wanted to be a model my whole life.” Amelia picked up a cheese-laden fry and twirled it around until it resembled a limp noodle. “Everything seemed fine at first. I was there with three other girls who were chosen out of like, two hundred or something. We put on these string bikinis which were like, skin-colored and almost see-through, but not totally,” she added defensively. “Things got a little weird when we had to do poses with each other. We had to act, like, well, you know . . .”

  “Like you were attracted to the other girls?” Lucy guessed very quietly.

  “Yeah.” Amelia finally popped a fry into her mouth. “We had to sign a bunch of papers at the beginning with print so small I didn’t bother to read them and we got our money right up front, in cash! That was awesome because I wanted to have a portfolio made and my mom said we couldn’t afford it.” She grimaced. “We can never afford anything. I would be lucky enough to have a drunk for a daddy. He took everything when he left, so Mom and I have had to work like dogs ever since.” She glared at James and Lucy fiercely. “I hope that bastard’s rotting in a gutter someplace.”

  “So what happened to the pictures?” Lucy prodded gently.

  “They were doctored and put on this Girls Who Love Girls website. Brinkley found it, probably while he was drooling over a site just like it.” She blushed and examined her plate of fries. “I never knew the pictures were for a site like that. We all look totally naked in them! My modeling career would be over for sure if a real agent ever saw those. Once you do something like that . . . And not to mention what my mom would do if she found out!”

  Lucy bit into a fry, just to have something to do. “She doesn’t know?” she asked, chewing.

  “No way!” Amelia yelped. “Brinkley came in to ask for more money the day after Homecoming. He had the pictures on his phone—you can download all kinds of things to cell phones now—and he threatened to show them to my mom.”

  “That made you angry, didn’t it?” James casually asked, also munching on a fry so that his question seemed less direct.

  “Of course it did!” Amelia snarled. “Brinkley was a lowlife scum-sucker!”

  James thought she was probably accurate in her assessment. He remembered the rolled-up magazine Amelia had been holding so tightly at the crime scene. “So you hit him with a magazine,” he stated, trying to remain focused on Amelia’s face as the spicy chili, smooth cheese, and crisp, salty fries coate
d his mouth with an ambrosia-like flavor. His taste buds cried out in bliss.

  Lucy paused mid-chew to stare at James. Then she turned her attention back to Amelia. “That’s what started Brinkley’s nosebleed.”

  Amelia began to cry again. “I didn’t mean to kill him! I was just, so mad! I already gave him the whole five hundred dollars from that horrible job, and he still wanted more!” She gazed at Lucy and suddenly looked very much younger than her twenty years. “I don’t know anything about those drugs the paper talked about, though. I swear to God I don’t!”

  “I believe you,” Lucy said as she patted Amelia’s elegant but work-worn hand. James could see tiny burns on the girl’s knuckles, undoubtedly from the oven, and small nicks probably made by a serrated knife. He thought about how different Amelia’s hands were from Allison’s.

  “Do you have to tell people about my pictures?” Amelia asked pleadingly.

  “Only if it’s necessary,” Lucy promised. “As long as you’ve told me the truth about everything to do with Brinkley Myers, I think we can keep your secret.”

  “Thanks. Look, I gotta go,” the young woman said hastily, glancing at her watch. “I’m one of the chain saw maniacs in the field tonight and I’ve got to learn the back paths and get made-up and stuff.”

  “Just one more question, honey, and then you can go.” Lucy bit off the end of another fry. “Who else was with you guys that Labor Day weekend? Because if you didn’t take the drugs and Whitney didn’t, someone else did.”

  “Dunno,” Amelia said nonchalantly, standing up. Then she straightened her shoulders and flicked a strand of long hair over her shoulder and marched away, smiling alluringly at the man with the cowboy hat before she disappeared into the milling crowd.

  “Back to square one,” Lucy muttered, gazing after Amelia. “Damn.”

  James didn’t respond. His mouth was too crammed with chili cheese fries to utter a single intelligible syllable.

  The afternoon shadows were lengthening as James and Lucy headed off to tell the others about their conversation with Amelia. They agreed to split up, grab their friends, and meet back at the podium area for the closing of the festival at five. The mayor planned to make a speech and then send the crowd down to the Miller’s Farm to contribute more funds by purchasing tickets to a spooky hayride through the farmer’s haunted fields. Most of the locals had already been on the ride, but Mr. Miller promised an even more fearful display created especially for the benefit.