Shadows at the Fair

by Lea Wait

  This time the lights and siren were still on as it left the fairgrounds.

  Maggie dressed carefully, putting on a skirt and silk sleeveless blouse she’d packed as extras, in case the temperatures soared, as they sometimes did at the end of May. It had been a long time since she’d dressed for a dinner with someone she hardly knew. Although, she thought ironically, I’ve already spent one night with Will. The new order in relationships: spend the night, then have dinner. She spent more time than usual on her makeup, using foundation, which she rarely bothered with, along with her usual blush and gray eye shadow.

  She considered herself in the mirror, then decided not to wear her hair down. Instead, she braided it and pinned it up, circling her head in an old-fashioned crown that suited her and added a little to her five feet five inches. No jewelry tonight, she decided, after looking over the few pieces she’d brought for the weekend. Somehow life was too complicated right now; she wanted to feel uncomplicated and look undesigned. And she shouldn’t make so much of this dinner, which was an informal, spur-of-the-moment occasion.

  She was ready ten minutes before Will knocked on her door.

  As soon as she saw him, she knew something was wrong. Very wrong.

  He put up his hand. “Maggie, I don’t know how bad it is. But Susan’s in the hospital.”

  Maggie’s mind ran in a spiderweb of directions. But before she could say anything, Will reached out to her, and the tweed on his jacket felt familiar and safe against her cheek.

  “Joe found her. The guy in the ambulance said she’s in a coma.”

  They decided to go ahead and have dinner since they could do nothing for Susan that the hospital wasn’t already doing, but the relaxation spiced by touches of sexual tension that they had both anticipated was gone, despite the dusky candlelit country inn Will had found. Will ordered a steak, rare, and Maggie decided on chicken breast in white wine with herbs.

  “What could have happened?” Maggie hesitated as she put down her glass of chablis. “She said she was exhausted and light-headed when I left her, but she seemed all right.”

  “She was pale when you helped her out to her van,” Will agreed. “Pale, but certainly not unconscious.” He waited a moment. “I spoke to Joe briefly; he said he knocked on the door of her van and then went in, thinking Susan was asleep. She must have thrown up, choked, and then passed out. When he couldn’t wake her, he called the ambulance on his cell phone.” Will put down his knife and fork. “Joe said she’d been ill for a long time, but he didn’t realize she was that weak.”

  “Vince told me she’d fainted several times on his Asia tour last month.” Maggie thought for a moment. “He didn’t say why.”

  “Whatever her medical problem is, the stress of having your husband killed—even your almost divorced husband—certainly would make it worse. Plus, Susan didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  Maggie pushed some chicken around on the plate in front of her. “But stress and lack of sleep don’t put someone in a coma, Will.”

  “Maybe she took the wrong combination of pills or the wrong pill. She had a little cooler under her table, and every hour or two she’d take a bottle out and swallow a pill.”

  “That must be the cooler I carried back to the van for her. She said she had to have it with her.”

  “It went to the hospital with her, too. Joe seemed to know about it and said the doctors would want to know what she’d been taking. What she had in her stomach.”

  “That makes sense. But she’d been eating a little, too. Joe got her some eggs for breakfast.”

  “And you got her a tuna sandwich for lunch. I don’t know how much of it she ate, but I know she took a few bites. She complained it had too much mayonnaise on it.”

  Maggie took another sip of wine. “The last twenty-four hours seem like a surrealistic nightmare. The show went on; some customers bought. And at the same time, Harry was killed, Ben was held for questioning, and now Susan is in a coma.”

  “How is Ben taking everything?”

  “Surprisingly well, according to Gussie. He’s with his family now, so that’s a tremendous relief. I was hoping that when the police questioned Susan again, she would have been able to provide some more insights into who might have killed Harry.”

  “She may be fine, Maggie; some comas are very brief.”

  “You’re right; I’m just feeling a bit morbid.”

  “What about some dessert? They say chocolate is a tranquilizer and has minor aphrodisiac qualities.”

  Maggie gave him a serious look. “Under the circumstances, perhaps some apple pie would be more in order?”

  “Each to his own. But I’m going for the chocolate cheesecake. With strawberries.”

  “A man after my own stomach,” Maggie responded with a groan. “I’m sticking with the pie.”

  “And a little cognac?”

  “Not tonight, Will. There’s too much happening.”

  He sighed. “You’re a tough lady, Maggie Summer. But I can handle it.” He gestured to the waitress. “One decaf, an apple pie, and a chocolate cheesecake with strawberries.”

  She nodded and headed toward the kitchen.

  “It’s been a long day.” As Will looked at Maggie, she felt his eyes seeing more than she was sure she wanted him to see.

  “I really appreciate all the help you’ve been during the past two days.”

  “I hate to say it, because the situation is obviously an awful one, but I’m glad it gave me an opportunity to get to know you.”

  “Most antiques dealers are good people.” Maggie steered the conversation into safer waters. She couldn’t help liking Will, but, after all, he had been at the Westchester show last weekend when John Smithson was murdered and had even taken Smithson’s place at this show. It was probably a coincidence, but it was a curious one. How many other people had been at both shows?

  “I really am glad to get to know you.” Will reached over and put his large hand over hers. “You’re a very special lady, Maggie Summer.”

  “Here’s the decaf and the desserts,” said the waitress.

  Maggie withdrew her hand and made room for the plates. She smiled back. “I’m glad, too, Will. But too much is happening for me to think about it.”

  “You don’t have to think about it. You just have to enjoy it.”

  “I’d like to be your friend. Right now I can’t cope with anything else.”

  “I don’t expect anything else right now. Except a lovely evening with a lovely lady.” He picked up his fork. “And, of course, a totally evil piece of cheesecake.”

  Maggie toasted him with her water glass. “To a memorable evening.”

  “To a memorable evening.”

  It was almost ten-thirty when Will drove Maggie up to her Kosy Kabins unit. The high lights illuminating the motel’s driveway shone directly on a dark van parked in front of her door. There was no mistaking the van; the J. COUSINS, BOOKSELLER logo on the side was clear. They both jumped out of Will’s RV and walked over to the van, peering inside.

  Joe was slumped over the wheel.

  Chapter 20

  Present State of the Capitol at Washington, hand-colored wood engraving published in The London Illustrated News in 1853. Showing construction at the U.S. Capitol. The U.S. Capitol was initially completed in 1839, but was greatly enlarged from 1851 to 1865, when the House and Senate wings and the dome were added. Price: $60.

  Will reached in through the open window and tentatively touched Joe’s shoulder. Joe’s head lurched up as he realized someone was there.

  His face was swollen with tears; his eyes bloodshot. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know who to call.” Joe’s voice was low, but desperate. His words came out distinctly, one at a time, like bullets fired consecutively. “It’s Susan. She’s gone. They couldn’t do anything to bring her out of the coma, and she just died.” Joe reached out for Maggie’s hand. “You were good to Susan; you tried to help. I don’t know what to do.”

 
; Maggie felt as though someone had just hit her so hard she couldn’t breathe. For a moment none of them said anything; they just looked at one another. Joe sat in the driver’s seat of his van, holding on to Maggie’s hand, while Will put his arm around her shoulders.

  “Why?” She finally managed to get out. “What happened?”

  Joe shook his head. “They’re not sure. She was ill, of course, and we weren’t sure how long she had to live. But she had been taking new medications and was doing so much better. None of us thought it would be this soon.”

  “Why don’t we go inside?” Maggie reached inside her bag for her door key. Long forgotten were any thoughts of sleep or romance. Joe nodded and climbed down, and the two of them followed Maggie into her small room. She sat on the bed and let Joe and Will take the two chairs the motel had arranged companionably near a small round table at the end of the room.

  “What was Susan’s illness, Joe?”

  He looked surprised. “You didn’t know? She didn’t tell many people; she was never sure how people would react. But I thought people would figure it out.” He looked directly at Will, and then at Maggie. “Susan had AIDS.”

  Maggie felt as though she were unsuccessfully trying to swim against a strong current. “AIDS?”

  “She’d known she was HIV-positive for three or four years, but about a year ago her T-cell count really started to drop. She was trying all the protease inhibitors along with her AZT and antibiotics, and at first they seemed to be making a difference. Not a big difference, like they have in some people, but her T-cell count was going up.”

  “That’s why she was taking all those pills.” Maggie thought of the small cooler. “I just thought she was a health nut, taking vitamins.”

  “She always was a bit fanatical about vitamins, too.” Joe almost smiled. “She’s been taking something to cure some part of her ever since I’ve known her. But they weren’t all vitamins.”

  Maggie thought quickly. Susan, Harry, Joe. “Are you all HIV-positive?”

  Joe forced a smile. “As in, are all you gay people sick?”

  Maggie turned red. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just thought, with Susan being infected and all, that probably she got it from Harry, and…”

  “And Harry and I were lovers, so I must have it, too?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, actually, that’s not the way it was. Susan had AIDS. Harry wasn’t HIV-positive, and neither am I.”

  “Then?” Will was catching up, fast.

  “Susan was married to Harry, but she didn’t get HIV from him. In fact, Harry was pretty obsessive about a number of things.”

  Maggie thought back to some of her conversations with Harry about business and silently agreed.

  “Well, one of the things Harry was insistent on was safe sex. With anyone. Susan and Harry had a pretty open marriage, and they both had a lot of—friends—over the years. I don’t think Susan knew where she’d picked up HIV.”

  “What did Harry think about it?”

  “He was very upset; very sad. He made her go to different doctors, try different treatments. That’s why they were getting divorced.”

  Will shook his head. “Sorry, Joe; I’m not following. I thought Harry and Susan were getting divorced because Harry wanted to be with you.”

  “He already had me, when he wanted me. I loved Harry.” Joe’s eyes began to fill again, and Maggie quickly walked to the bathroom and brought back a box of tissues. Joe blew his nose and started again.

  “Harry’s the only man I ever loved. But Harry always did what Harry wanted to do. He said he loved me, but he loved Susan, too. I don’t think they would have gotten divorced if they hadn’t needed the money.”

  Maggie remembered Susan had said she’d needed money. “For what?”

  “For her medications. Harry and Susan were self-employed; they’d never been able to afford health insurance, and no company wants to insure someone who is HIV-positive. The medications Susan was taking cost almost twenty thousand dollars a year. And that didn’t include the cost of hospitalizations or doctors. As long as they were married, Susan couldn’t get help from Medicaid unless they destroyed the business and went into bankruptcy. They both loved that business. They didn’t want to do that. And they didn’t want to go on welfare. Harry had grown up on welfare. He would have done anything not to go back on it.”

  Maggie nodded. “I’m beginning to get it. Susan and Harry were going to get divorced; Susan would get enough money to pay for her medical treatments so she wouldn’t need Medicaid, and she and Harry could still keep the business, even if legally it was now all Harry’s.”

  “Exactly.”

  “That’s why Susan was so unclear about where she and Harry were going to live after the divorce; they were going to continue living together.”

  Joe nodded. “As much as they had before; maybe more, since Susan would probably need more care in the future.”

  They all sat, trying to put the whole situation in focus.

  “And now Harry is dead, and Susan is dead.”

  “She was getting better, too. The T-cell count had improved.” Joe slumped back. “I had decided to take care of her; to try to take Harry’s place. He would have wanted that. I was going to tell her tonight.”

  Will said softly, “She knew you cared about her, Joe.”

  “She did, Joe,” Maggie added. “When she told Gussie and me about Harry leaving her for you, I kept thinking she would be angry or jealous or have some other strong, negative, emotion. But she didn’t.”

  Joe nodded. “She knew I didn’t threaten her relationship with Harry. He’d loved her from the beginning. He was bisexual; she wasn’t. But it didn’t seem to matter to either of them.” He blew his nose again. “And, of course, I was helping by loaning Harry the money.”

  Will looked at him. “What money?”

  “The money to buy out Susan’s part of the business. Harry didn’t have enough cash to do that, and I inherited some money from my father when he died three years ago.”

  Will looked at Maggie, and then back at Joe. “How much did you loan him, Joe?”

  “Five hundred thousand dollars.”

  Will swallowed a gasp. “Art-Effects is worth a million dollars?” Will looked at Joe in amazement. “Susan and Harry weren’t even staying in the motel. They were sleeping in vans to save expenses!”

  “Art-Effects is doing all right. But it isn’t just the antiques. Art-Effects owns Harry and Susan’s loft in New York. That’s worth close to a million by itself. It owns their van. It owns just about everything, except their clothes. And they have a heavy inventory.”

  Maggie and Will nodded. Most antiques dealers had huge investments in inventory. It was not unusual for an antiques dealer to be inventory-poor.

  “Art-Effects is a solid business. Harry and Susan had it figured so almost everything except their toilet paper was deductible. But the cash flow was slim.” Joe nodded at Maggie’s incredulous expression. “The business is worth at least the million dollars.”

  “When did the loan go through?” Will hadn’t talked with Gussie that afternoon, so he hadn’t known about the money. He was still trying to comprehend what Joe was saying.

  “I gave him the money last Wednesday, before we started packing up for the show. He wanted to deposit the check so it would clear before he had to make out a check to Susan next week.”

  “Did your lawyer draw up the agreement?”

  Joe shook his head. “I loved Harry. I trusted him. We didn’t need anything on paper.”

  Maggie and Will exchanged looks, and Maggie changed the topic of conversation quickly.

  “Joe, wasn’t it hard for you that Harry was still so involved with Susan? I don’t think I could handle someone I loved having other relationships.” Maggie looked at both of them. “And Susan had other relationships, too. Harry had to cope with that.”

  Joe shrugged. “Harry and Susan didn’t seem to care about each other’s casual sexual int
erests. I’ve known them both for several years, although I wasn’t really involved with them until the last year or so. By that time Susan was already ill. I’ve never heard Harry say anything about Susan’s male friends, other than that she was stupid not to have been smarter about them.” He paused. “Harry was really angry about that sometimes. He and Susan had many friends who died of AIDS. They both knew better than to ignore taking obvious precautions. But Susan didn’t want to be bothered. She didn’t think she was in danger.” Joe swallowed hard. “Lots of women think that, you know. They think they won’t get infected as easily as a man—especially a gay man—would.”

  “But I’ve read about HIV; even practicing safe sex doesn’t guarantee that you won’t get it.”

  “True enough, Maggie. But, according to Harry, Susan never practiced safe sex. She never even tried. Sometimes, after he’d had a few drinks, he would talk about it. About the characters she’d gone off with that they’d hardly met. About the weekends she’d disappear. Harry wasn’t an easy guy, but he was really careful about sex. I don’t think he had that many partners. He had a lot of control in his life.”

  Maggie thought about it. Harry had always been the decision maker; the leader. Susan had been the weaker partner. Joe made sense.

  “She was involved with Vince?”

  Joe nodded. “She had been off and on. During the last couple of months she spent a lot of time with him. She even went on his Asia buying trip without Harry. That was unusual. She seldom left Harry for more than a couple of days.”

  “Was Vince serious about her?”

  “Who knows? She seemed to think so. But she thought that about a lot of men. She was sometimes like a teenager with a crush. But she always came back to Harry. And—now.” Joe started crying again.

  Maggie put her hand on his arm. “Is there anything we can do to help? Is there anyone you’d like us to call? Or maybe we could help with the arrangements?”

  Joe shook his head. “No. I can do it. But thank you. I don’t think Harry has any family, but Susan has relatives in Jersey. I’ll call them. And they have a lot of friends. With everything happening so close together, I guess the funerals will be at the same time. It will depend on the medical examiner, too.”