by Elise Sax
“He did?” I asked.
“Well, I don’t really know, but don’t you think if he passed through Goodnight, that would be the house he would’ve picked?” Faye asked. “Anyway, I’m glad I stole a bunch of supplies from those women. I’m going to redo the floors in your bathroom first.”
“I was hoping you could fill in the hole in the living room,” I said. “Abbott fell in it the other day, and it took me an hour to get him out.”
“I forgot about that hole,” Faye said.
Adele brought me my breakfast. “We didn’t have what you ordered. So, I brought you the next best thing. What’re your feelings about okra?”
For the second time, I left the diner hungry. Despite Nora’s insistence that Adele would never sell the diner, she decided to close early when Nora, Faye, and I left. I was still holding the sleeping baby, and Nora was holding one child and holding the hand of another with her other hand.
“Yeah, that’s right, binge eaters!” Adele announced to the diner. “You’ll have to stuff your faces someplace else! Or better yet, give your jaws a break. They’ll thank you!”
She swept the diners out with a broom. The crowd outside was upset, but she threatened them with her broom, and they scattered. “There. That’s done, then,” she said, and a tear ran down her cheek. “I can’t meet the demands of the whole town. I’ve failed.”
I gave her a hug. “No, you haven’t. It’s just a transition. You’ll work it out.”
“I don’t think so. I mean, I fed you fried okra for breakfast.”
She had a point. Something had to be done in a hurry. Adele went home to rest before the Cook-off started. Faye asked Nora and me to check out her husband Norton’s booth. We found it easily. It was more or less an advertisement for his Goodnight UFOs shop. It was decorated with flying saucers and alien heads. Norton was a very large man, up and down and side to side. As far as I could tell, he loved two things: aliens and Faye.
He swept her up in his arms when we arrived, and he planted a long, passionate kiss on her lips. “Faye and Norton have the best sex life in town,” Nora said to me while Faye got kissed. “Unless you and Boone are hot and heavy. Boone had quite a reputation in high school, you know.”
“He did? What kind of reputation?”
“He liked to pleasure women. You know what I mean? No girl left unhappy, if you catch my drift.”
My throat went dry thinking about Boone liking to pleasure women. “We’re not hot and heavy,” I said. “Boone and I. We’re nothing. Not even friends.”
Nora barked a laugh. “Yeah right. You think that Boone spends his day driving around women just for the fun of it? That’s not his style. I mean, the man broke both his arms for you. Normally, after there’s broken bones, if a man hasn’t seen any action, he wants nothing to do with the woman. But he’s still stuck like glue to you, Matilda. Believe me, I’m an expert on these things. Thirteen kids. Remember?”
Norton stopped kissing his wife and greeted Nora and me. “What do you think of the booth?”
“You outdid yourself this year, Norton,” Nora said.
“Wait until you taste my dish,” he said.” It’s an authentic Andromedan specialty. And you know, with local green chiles. Sort of an alien-earthling fusion meal. You want more information about it for the paper, Matilda?” he asked me with more than a little hope in his voice. It was exactly what Silas had been talking about. The event was advertisement for local businesses and townspeople. I could see how it would help rejuvenate the town and lift morale.
I took out my reporter’s notebook and began to take notes about aliens’ taste for spicy food and how Goodnight UFOs was on the cutting edge of alien cuisine. It wasn’t easy to take notes while holding a baby, but I managed. By the time I finished interviewing Norton, the Cook-off was in high gear in the Plaza with all of the contestants busy at their booths, cooking up a storm. The atmosphere was equal parts excitement and anxiety.
Nora’s husband came by with a huge stroller. He put the little children in it, freeing Nora and me to walk around. Faye decided to stay back with Norton, in order to help him. There was a lot more to the Cook-off than I had thought. Everywhere I looked, barbecues, chafing dishes, and all sorts of portable appliances we’re going full steam ahead.
I made the rounds, interviewing as many people as I could. Jack was doing the same thing, and he gave me a high five when he saw me. “This is the boring part,” he explained. “Once we can start eating, then it’ll get good. Amos and Morris always have the best dishes, but there’s a bunch else that are good, too. Have you ever had green chile fries? Best thing ever.”
On the other side of the Plaza, I spotted Mabel yelling at Klee. I was relieved that she was taking the bullet instead of me. “There’s Amos,” Nora said, pointing. “Oh, boy, he looks bad.”
Amos was sweating, and as far as I could tell, he was forgetting to breathe. We walked over to him and said hello.
“What?” he asked. “Oh yes, hello. I don’t know if this is going to cut it. I hear Morris is doing a honey chile soufflé. How can I compete with that?” His voice raised in pitch. I had never seen him anything but calm and collected. It was disorienting seeing him freak out like a normal person.
“There you are.” Silas came up from behind me and tapped me on the shoulder. He looked horrible, like death warmed over. “I’ve been looking for you. Are you doing the rounds and taking notes?”
He launched into a coughing fit, and I held my breath, trying not to catch whatever he had. I put my hand on his forehead. “Oh my God, Silas. You’re still burning up. You have a terrible fever. You need to be at home in bed or maybe even the hospital.”
“Does Joanne Woodward go to bed?” he demanded.
“You mean Bob Woodward?”
“Okay. Sure. Joanne or Bob, what’s the difference? Well, Bob Woodward doesn’t go to bed. Does Carl Bernstein go to the hospital? Of course he doesn’t! Listen to me carefully. I need to tell you what to do here. It’s very important. You can’t miss it. I need you to…”
Silas didn’t finish the sentence. He fainted dead away, landing at Nora’s feet. “Man down!” someone shouted, and a team of paramedics rushed over with a stretcher and rolled Silas onto it.
“What did he eat?” one of the paramedics asked. “Red chile scallops? Spicy Oysters Goodnight?”
“Green Chile pork balls?” the other paramedic asked.
“He didn’t eat anything,” I explained. “Nothing’s ready yet. He started getting sick last night. He might have the flu.” But it wasn’t flu season. Just like it wasn’t flu season for Stella. “Oh no! You need to check him for poison. Hurry, get him to the hospital.”
“I haven’t been poisoned,” Silas moaned. “The poison that was used with Stella and Tony was slow-acting. It caused mild symptoms for days and weeks before it got bad. I haven’t had anything like that. This came on suddenly. It’s a virus. Do good work, boss. Wear out your pen today.”
The paramedics rushed Silas away. “The poison was slow-acting,” I said out loud. The pieces to the puzzle were clicking together for me. I was getting so close, but the answer still evaded me. I left Nora to get serious with interviews. I got six of them under my belt when the smells in the Plaza grew delicious, and the food in most of the booths was ready.
Townspeople began to eat, going from one booth to another. I had chowed down on five dishes when Boone showed up. He was pretty worse for wear with his two casts on his arms, but he managed to carry a plate filled with food with one hand and a fork in the other hand.
“Did you notice that all the suspects are here?” he asked me with his mouth full. Bernard was at the Goodnight UFOs booth with his brother Ted. Next to them, Jenny and Joyce were enjoying the Andromedan specialty. And walking up to the booth was Adam Beatman with his wife.
“Holy smokes,” I breathed. “They’re all in one place.”
“And they all love aliens, I guess,” Boone said, chewing. “Damn, Morris has really
outdone himself this year. I hope Amos can take him, though. Morris has won since forever. He needs to be taken down a peg.”
“I knew you cared for your brother,” I said. “You want him to win.”
“I love him, I guess, but he’s an asshole,” Boone muttered.
There were a few screams, and at least a dozen people started running. I turned to see five giraffes galloping across the Plaza through the square in the center. People ran for it, but instead of running for their lives, afraid of being trampled by wildlife, they ran for their assorted ropes and nets and whatever they had created to capture the giraffes in order to get the prize money. Nora was no different.
She was just a couple booths down from me, wiping the mouths of two of her kids, when she saw the giraffes. She whipped her rope out of her purse and in her flats, ran at them, her rope turned into a lasso, swinging it over her head round and round. It was a free-for-all. Half of the people at the Cook-off started chasing the giraffes. Chile dishes went flying.
Surely this wasn’t the way to change Goodnight’s reputation to that of an animal-loving town.
“Yep,” Boone said. “You knew this was going to happen.”
“What’re you talking about?” I asked him. “Nobody in their right mind could have realized that this was going to happen.”
“Rocco’s sure going to be pissed. I hear he spent twenty-thousand to repaint and repair the Plaza. Now it’s going to have to be done again.”
Behind the group of people chasing the giraffes, a large tractor roared to life. “What the hell?” I said.
Quint was driving the tractor. The people ran for their lives out of his way. Luckily, the tractor could only go about ten miles per hour, but nevertheless, Quint was determined and he wasn’t going to let anything get in his way. Poor little Fifi Swan broke through the crowd in a dead run, panic on her face, as she screamed for the protection of the beloved giraffes. Somehow her seventy-year-old body managed to leap through the air and land on the tractor, where she tried to wrestle the controls away from Quint.
“Sonofabitch. Well now I’ve seen everything,” Boone said, taking a bite of his food.
With the crowd running away, I got a good view of an old food truck parked on a side street on the other side of the Plaza. On the side of the truck was painted blue angel wings. They were faded, but I could see exactly what they were. It was the wings from the VIP Tickets to Heaven. I would’ve known them anywhere. Finally, I had found the scammer, the one that tied the deaths together. I knew in my heart that he was the key to finding the killer.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Boone. I walked quickly toward the truck, but as soon as I started toward it, its engine started up. I caught a glimpse of a man in the driver’s seat as he put the truck into gear. I couldn’t let him get away. I would never find him again.
The Plaza had turned into complete bedlam. The giraffes, instead of running out of the Plaza were making a tour of it, like skaters in a rink. The tractor was slow on their heels, driving at a snail’s pace but with determination.
The food truck began driving down the road, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to catch it. Thinking quickly, I decided to hijack the tractor, which was cutting in front of me. It was the only way. I ran for it. Quint and Fifi were still fighting over the control of the machine. Just as I got there, Quint won the battle, tossing Fifi over the side. Luckily, Fifi fell into the arms of someone running after the giraffes. She was safe. No longer fighting for control of the tractor, Quint revved the motor. I leaped for it.
Miraculously, I got on, but I wasn’t in as good of shape as a seventy-year-old, I guessed because, I wasn’t totally on the top, and my feet were precariously close to the wheels. I struggled to pull myself up.
“Not another one,” Quint complained. “I got them in my sight. Why don’t you people leave me alone and let me do my job?”
“In the name of the law, I’m commandeering this tractor!” I announced.
“What law?”
“I don’t know, but there must be a law.”
“You’re not even a cop. You’re just that woman from the Gazette. You can’t commandeer a tractor when you’re a journalist.”
He was right. “You’re wrong,” I insisted. “We’re the Fourth Estate. We’re the thin line between democracy and tyranny. This tractor is essential for the continued freedom of our nation. Besides, it’s not your tractor, so get off.”
I finally climbed all the way to the top, and with all the strength that I could muster, I elbowed him square in the shoulder. Quint fell off the tractor. Luckily for him, he fell onto the soft grass of the square. I took command of the controls, sitting in the seat. I turned the tractor. Quint was standing up, shaking his fist at me, yelling something about doll’s eyes. I didn’t care. I was a woman on a mission. I aimed the tractor at the food truck.
In the truck’s side view mirror, I could see the driver’s expression. He knew I was after him, and he was scared. It turned out the food truck wasn’t any faster than the tractor. I chased them at ten miles per hour, and he fled in his truck at about the same speed.
For some reason, he decided, instead of running in the direction outside of the Plaza, to run right for the Plaza. I wasn’t deterred. I didn’t care about the crowds, the giraffes, the contestants, or the booths. I was going to get him.
“Get out of my way!” I shouted at the crowd. The food truck driver was so focused on me chasing him that he wasn’t watching where he was going. Boom! He sideswiped a booth. Then, he sideswiped another one. I saw Morris run for his life. “Stop your truck!” I called, but he was determined. At this rate, we were never going to get anywhere.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Boone walking leisurely toward us. He caught my eye and shook his head, as if to say, there she goes again. I continued my slow-speed chase after the truck, watching as it hit booth after booth. It was hard to avoid the debris, and I could feel tables crunch under the wheels of the tractor.
Just as I thought I would never catch him, Boone leisurely stepped up to the food truck at the driver’s side, climbed up, punched the driver in the face, and turned off the ignition. He tossed the food truck keys outside on the ground. He opened the door and pulled the driver out.
“I didn’t do it,” the driver said. “I’m innocent. I didn’t know those people. I had nothing to do with it. I’m innocent, I tell you.”
“Keep at it,” Boone said. “You sound real innocent.”
“You caught him,” I cheered Boone. “You did a great job.”
“Matilda, turn off the tractor,” Boone called.
“How do I do that?” I asked.
“You just turn it off.”
I searched the tractor to see how to turn it off. “I found it!” I called, just as the tractor rear-ended the food truck with a loud crash. I stumbled off the tractor, a little shaken.
Boone walked over to me, dragging the man by his collar. “I was wrong,” Boone said. “Now I’ve seen everything.”
Chapter 15
I went from having the reputation of being a crazy woman to the woman who talked to dead people to the woman who trashed the Plaza two times.
“It withstood over five hundred years, but it couldn’t stand up to you,” Klee told me once the dust had cleared. The giraffes had run off happily back into the wilds of New Mexico. The tractor was still in one piece, but that couldn’t be said for the old food truck or half of the Cookoff booths. Folks wandered around in shock, as if they had just survived a terrorist attack, and in a way, they had.
Despite the damage, Mabel insisted that the competition continue, and since Morris’s soufflé had gotten trampled and Amos was one of the last booths standing, he finally won the blue ribbon.
“I’m so happy,” Amos said, holding his first blue ribbon, as his deputies walked past him with the handcuffed VIP Ticket to Heaven salesman in tow.
Jack, Klee, and I hurried back to the Gazette and wrote an entire issue of the Gazette in r
ecord time. By the time the sun set, Klee closed up the office, and I was alone at home. I could hear Abbott howling far off in the distance. The dogs must have gone for their walk in the forest without me, and they would probably be gone for a long time. Boone had left in his truck to go somewhere. Again, he was all about the secrets, and it pissed me off.
I walked through the open courtyard to my part of the house. There were no lights on, just the light coming from the stars in the sky.
“Closer than you think,” I heard a soft voice say. I squinted through the dark to see Devyn Jones. She was soaking wet, and her face was hardly more than a skull with skin wrapped tightly over it.
“Devyn,” I said. “I found you in the database online. I know you ran away from your home in West Texas.”
“Devyn,” she repeated, as if she was tasting her name on her lips. “I’m cold. Wet. But now I’m free.”
“Where are you?”
“In the water. Look for a rock shaped like sadness, and you’ll find me. Take my body back to my mother. Give her peace.”
“I promise. I will,” I said.
“There are others. Will you help them in time?” she asked.
“Where are they? Who’s doing this to you? Tell me so I can help.”
“He’s closer than you think. Be careful.”
And then she was gone, and I knew she would never visit me, again. Two girls had asked me for help, and I had let them both down. There were others out there somewhere, abducted, tortured, and murdered by a psychopath, and I was no closer to finding him and bringing him to justice. But if it was the last thing I did, I would catch the bastard.
At least I had caught the Ticket to Heaven guy. He was still insisting that he was innocent, but about twenty senior citizens at the Cookoff recognized him as selling them the tickets for one thousand dollars each. It would be easy to connect him to the murders.
