Liz Marvin - Betty Crawford 03 - Too Long at the Fair

by Liz Marvin

  Betty hooked her arm around Clarise’s elbow. “What are you,” she said, “my grandmother? We’re at a fair! Let’s enjoy ourselves.”

  The fair was stock full of fun things to see and do. Half the stalls were manned by local artisans. The vendors were selling everything from handmade pottery and yarn to paintings to jams and every type of food or craft Betty could imagine. Betty and Clarise wandered the rows of stalls, admiring gorgeous quilts and poking fun at gift ideas for each other. Clarise was drawn to the jewelry and the lotions. Betty just couldn’t keep her eyes off of all the food.

  “What do you think of this one?” Clarise asked, holding up a felted hat made of bright pink and neon green fuzz, with tiny yellow and blue pom-poms stuck all over. “I think it would go great with my fall collection, don’t you?” She put the hat on, and batted her eyes at Betty.

  “I think the hat does you justice,” Betty said. “You’re both very… bright.”

  Clarise took the hat off and mock-glared at Betty. “Humph. See if I ever ask you for fashion advice.”

  Betty shrugged “No one else ever has!” As, arm in arm, they moved on to the next stall. And the next. And the next. Soon, the sound of music pulled them toward a stage where a country band was playing their own brand of southern bluegrass. The music wove through the fair, drawing a larger and larger crowd. They were good! Here and there couples were dancing and soon large groups were all dancing.

  Clarise pulled Betty into one of the crowds and they laughed and danced then joined in the hollering at the end of each song. The music was catchy and even though no one but the band seemed to know the words everyone sang along with the refrain. The day to day problems of running an online business and dealing with a chronic condition were forgotten. Suddenly Betty found it easy to lose herself in a day at the fair, a summer concert, the bustle and press of the crowd and the rush of hanging out with her best friend.

  This was a day made for a fair. The weather was perfect. The sky was bright blue, there was just a little nip of Fall in the air, and best of all the leaves were just starting to change and paint the colors of fire across the North Carolina countryside. Betty could lose herself in those colors. The last bits of stress from the car ride faded from Betty’s mind, and she let the music and gorgeous day take over her mind.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t get to enjoy them very long.

  3. Chapter 2

  When the set ended, the crowd began to disperse. It took all of two seconds for the first woman to yell out, “Thief! Someone stole my wallet!” Betty spotted the woman frantically pawing through her purse and searching the ground around her.

  Her actions spread through the crowd. Men patting breast or hip pockets and women searching pockets and purses. Most people were quickly relieved but all too many people were panicking.

  Betty checked her pockets, breathing a sigh of relief when she found her wallet still in her pants pocket. Not everyone else was so lucky. Clarise wasn’t even checking. Betty arched a quizzical eyebrow and her friend responded “I only bring cash to the fair. Small bills and I put a few in each pocket and I’ve never lost a thing.”

  “Besides if you ever felt a hand in your pocket that wasn’t invited in you would tear it off and keep it.”

  “I’d make it into a necklace!”

  “Good thinking! Too heavy for earrings.”

  “Mine is gone too!” came a man’s voice from the far left of the crowd.

  “My watch!” said a woman a few feet from Betty.

  The crowd was in an uproar trying to pinpoint the pickpocket, but no one could agree on a suspect. The only thing people could agree on was that they were angry.

  “We need to get out of here.” Clarise declared and took Betty by the hand. Together they elbowed their way to the stage and then slipped around the side and out the employee entrance.

  Betty stepped through the gate and looked around. The staging beneath the state was a maze of tubes and cables. She couldn’t see anyone but there was certainly a path through the maze. She took up her position at what she thought was the entrance then took out her cellphone and dialed. Bill Owens, Betty’s boyfriend and the chief of police, picked up.

  “Hiya Betty,” he said. Just the sound of his voice was enough to make Betty grin, despite all the chaos around her. “How are you enjoying the fair? Judged any pies yet?”

  “No,” Betty said. “Bill, you need to get down here. I know it’s a long way from town, but there’s a pickpocket at the music stage, and people are going nuts!”

  Bill groaned. “At the stage too? Stay right there. We’re on our way.”

  “We?” Betty asked.

  “Wes and me. We’ve heard all about this pickpocket already, trust me. We’ve been at the fair for hours trying to sort this out. Just don’t go anywhere, and I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  “We’re behind the stage.”

  She wasn’t sure he’d heard her but she wasn’t sure he hadn’t and Bill was resourceful; he and Wes would find them. Betty hung up her phone and tucked it into her purse. She turned to Clarise.

  “They’re already at the fair,” Betty said.

  “That’s great!”

  Betty sighed. “Not so great. They’re working.”

  “Well that just ruins it. Why do the crooks have to come here?”

  Betty looked around and shrugged. “Because this is where the people are.”

  The crowd was growing, as more fair-goers came in response to the hubbub. The muttering was getting louder. Some of the people who had joined the crowd had had their valuables stolen earlier in the day. They were dismayed to learn that the pickpocket hadn’t been caught yet.

  Betty spied the band talking with roadies and stage hands and nudged Clarise. “See if they’ll play another set. This crowd needs entertainment.”

  Clarise nodded and headed off.

  “Well,” came a haughty voice to Betty’s left, “it does not come as much of a surprise, with these small-town cops working the case.” Betty turned to see an elderly woman wearing a wide-brimmed hat and rose-colored dress talking to an old man in a slightly newer suit standing next to her. “I bet they’re in on it. I bet it’s some local gang, and the cops get a cut of everything.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me dear,” said the man. “We’ll make sure to let the people on that travel website know this is a fair they want to steer clear of if this is the sort of game these people play.”

  Betty had heard enough. It was bad enough that these people were maligning her boyfriend at a fair, but the internet was another game altogether. She ran an online business. She understood exactly how much damage negative reviews could do… and this fair was absolutely critical to Lofton’s economy. The money brought in by fair-going tourists kept the town afloat for half the year. She wouldn’t let these people ruin that any more than the townspeople would let pickpockets ruin it.

  She opened her mouth to tell them so when two forces combined to stop her. The first was Clarise who jerked her arm so hard that she nearly toppled. Clarise continued to pull her arm, forcing Betty to stumble away from her target.

  The second was the arrival of Mrs. Johnson. She was about the same age as the man and woman who had been speaking but she was better dressed, better looking and certainly could put on airs with the best of them. “Oh heavens these folks would never plan something so gauche. I expect it’s some out of town gang come to prey on the country bumpkins. Do they still use decoys to squawk and make a fuss to distract everyone? I read that in a mystery book once.” She paused dramatically, staring directly at the boorish woman in the rose colored dress who wilted under her gaze. “Say, you two aren’t from these parts are you?” She spoke so innocently and smiled so sweetly that no one who knew her would dare accuse her casting any aspersions on the couple – but only because they knew her.

  The old gentleman came to the rescue. “I assure you we meant no disrespect, madam.”

  Marlee May favored him with a toothy grin
. “No offense taken I am sure.” Then she moved in, took him by the arm and led the couple away for further verbal torture.

  Betty had seen enough and knew that Marlee May would put them in their place and keep them there so she turned on her friend. “I know” Clarise said before Betty could start lecturing her in turn, “and normally I’d let you loose at anyone who said anything bad about the boys. But look around. This is no place to start a fight. Things would explode!”

  It didn’t take Betty more than a second to realize that Clarise was right. The crowd was getting more and more riled up. Voices were rising, and gestures were becoming more and more vehement. It wouldn’t take much for the crowd to turn into a mob, and those were never healthy.

  “Will the band play another set?”

  “They’re just about ready to start.”

  Betty cupped her hands on either side of her mouth and gave her best hog holler “YEEEE YI YIYI! The band’s playing another set!”

  A cheer went up from the crowd and people gave up grousing and turned to jockeying for the best viewing spot. Up the fair lane, Betty saw Bill and Wes running towards the group.

  Betty nudged Clarise and nodded in their direction “Here comes the cavalry.”

  Betty saw Bill pause for a moment to let Wes catch up and assess the situation. Even out of breath and rumpled, he looked good in his uniform. He was almost six feet tall, with a stocky build that had just enough padding to be comfortable cuddling up against at night. Betty knew that particular joy well, and she couldn’t help but smile a little at the reminder. But Bill wasn’t looking for her right now.

  “Stage” she said and he nodded. He was still athletic enough to jump up onto the stage using just one hand. The band made way and he faced the crowd.

  “All right everyone!” Bill shouted, raising his arms so he could be seen more easily. “Settle down. We’re going to figure this out.”

  A middle aged man in a white linen suit snorted loudly. Betty fought the urge to smack him. That would not be settling down. Clarise squeezed Betty’s hand.

  It only took a few minutes for Bill and Wes to separate out the spectators from those who had actually been robbed at the event.

  They set up a few chairs and a table behind the stage for people to come and give statements. A line quickly formed and people waited patiently while Bill and Wes took statements, descriptions of missing items and contact information as quickly as they could. The music started up again and in no time the crowd in front of the stage was having a great time.

  Behind the stage the mood was less volatile but no one was happy about having to stick around to give statements. The line was far too long, and people began wandering away rather than stick around. Betty and Clarise did everything in their power to offer sympathy and advice but it wasn’t working.

  That wouldn’t do. If there was any hope of catching the thief, then Bill and Wes needed every bit of information they could manage to gather, and Betty had an idea. She skirted the line to talk to Bill personally and explained what she was seeing.

  Bill ran his fingers through his hair, tugging it lightly. “What do you expect me to do, Betty? There’s no way to keep track of this whole crowd when it’s just the two of us.”

  Betty smiled at him. “The real draw of this fair is the cook off. It’s the best in the state. So, use your girlfriend’s connections.”

  Bill raised his eyebrow. “Spit it out.”

  “I’m a judge, remember? And I’m not interested in having this fair get a bad reputation. You give everybody a copy of their statement, right?”

  Bill Nodded. Betty clapped her hands. “Perfect! They can show it to me in one hour for a free barbecue from the barbecue cook off tent.”

  Bill’s eyes lit up. “That’s a great idea!” He turned to the crowd. “Hey! Can I have your attention please! For everyone giving a statement today we have something to thank you for your time.”

  As Bill explained, Betty watched the ire on the faces of victims begin to fade. He was a natural performer and getting people to calm down and do what he wanted was one of his greatest talents. That and foot rubs. And back rubs and - back to the matter at hand. Betty shook her head and breathed a sigh of relief. “Clarise and I will go warn the barbecue tent,” she said.

  Bill managed a smile that made her day, and then turned to get back to the task of taking statements. Betty pulled him back. “But first,” she said, and gave him a hug and a quick kiss. He felt good in her arms, even if it was just for a moment. She smiled up at him. “Good luck Officer Owens.”

  Now all she had to do was break the news to the folks at the barbecue tent.

  4. Chapter 3

  Outside of the mayhem of the crowd, the fair was going about its normal bustling business. The pickpockets hadn’t hit every fair attendee, and plenty of money was changing hands.

  Betty and Clarise strolled arm in arm through the crowd enjoying the sights and sounds. There were a few large groups’ re-enactors that had clearly come to the fair together. Their uniforms made them easy to spot and both women found them fascinating but for different reasons. Betty thought the whole notion of dressing up was funny beyond words. Clarise examined their costumes with the critical eye of a stage director.

  One group coming towards them was dressed like British soldiers from the Revolutionary War, complete with red coats, white leggings, tall Grenadier caps and antique rifles.

  “Oh my stars and garters.” Betty exclaimed. Clarise gave her a quick elbow to the ribs. “Their uniforms are very authentic. We could put on a production of Martha Bratton with that crowd.”

  “I’ll wait for the movie” Betty retorted, rubbing her ribs.

  “You’ll wait a long time, then. Look!” Clarise pointed.

  Clarise favored the group with another look. “They’re a good lot. Uniforms are worn and patched and a bit grimy. Nothing too tailored to fit and their grooming matches the era. Just look at those shoes and boots!”

  Betty looked and saw nothing out of the ordinary. “And?”

  “And they’re made with straight lasts – they’re not made for left or right feet. Shoes weren’t made for left and right feet until the eighteen fifties.”

  “You would make a great detective.”

  Clarise laughed “I’ll leave the amateur sleuthing to you. I have enough trouble with amateur actors. Especially the professional ones. Oh Gawd!”

  Clarise blanched. Betty followed her gaze to a tight knot of men dressed as Yankee soldiers from the Civil War. “You don’t see a lot of them around here…” Her voice trailed off as she pulled Betty toward the men. “And it’s a good thing too. Even for Union re-enactors their uniforms are a disgrace.”

  “Just wait until you see the Confederates. I’m sure their costumes are perfect and since not many northerners are crazy enough to play dress up and the rebs have to pretend to fight something well I guess beggars can’t be choosers.”

  Clarise just sniffed and turned up her nose. “I don’t know which is worse – you or them!”

  “Them! I’m buying lunch!”

  “You’re doing no such thing. Judges eat free and so, I expect, will their best friends.”

  “Not after I tell them I’ve given away half their stocks to a bunch of pickpocket victims.”

  Clarise eyed her friend critically, and then gave her a squeeze. “Then I’m buying you lunch. As long as it’s low carb.”

  “Betty! Roberta Crawford! Yoo hoo! Over here!” Thelma Green was standing with Marlee May Johnson at the entrance to the pie eating contest booth. How did Marlee May get here before they did? The question puzzled and exasperated Betty.

  Sighing, Betty allowed Clarise to lead her over to the two older women. Thelma was sporting her best wicked witch smile. “The fair has a tradition for one of the judges to enter the pie eating contest and of course we chose you for the honor.”

  “I don’t think that is a good idea.” Clarise blurted which granted Marlee May permission to butt in. �
�Oh nonsense. It’s just a formality, really. She can take a few bites, stir the pie a bit and lose graciously. No one expects a judge to win, after all.” Both women laughed. A warning glance from Betty was enough to get Clarise to hold her tongue.

  Betty smiled. “Fine. Thank you. Happy to oblige.”

  The two women each took an arm and led Betty away. “I’ll catch up with you at the cooking competition tent!” Betty called over her shoulder to her friend. “And don’t worry I’ll save room for lunch!”

  “I knew that!” Clarise called back with all the bravado she could muster “I’m still buying!”

  But she was worried. Betty had worked hard to get her diabetes under control but lately she had been slipping up; eating irregularly, following her diet for three days then binging on unhealthy food for two. This fair could prove her undoing if she wasn’t careful.

  5. Chapter 4

  With Betty dragooned into competing in a, of all things, pie eating contest Clarise found herself left to her own devices. As she wandered alone through the ever increasing crowd she pondered her choices. She wanted to go see Wes but he was working with Bill to crack what appeared to be a pickpocket ring working the fair. She would only be a distraction for him and he would have no time for her.

  She had no interest in wandering the grounds watching the other fair-goers without Betty and she had even less interest in wandering through the booths and competition displays. Honestly which heifer calf won the blue ribbon was of no concern.

  The midway rides and games of skill and chance were next to the bottom of her list, right above sitting with the gossiping grannies. The livestock pens were beginning to look more and more appealing.

  Then she spied them. The North Carolina Confederate Civil War re-enactors. They were dressed in Confederate gray and carried what appeared to be a replica North Carolina battle flag but she couldn’t identify the regiment. She stopped and studied their costumes with a director’s critical eye. She had long wanted to produce a play about the Civil War at the Lofton Theater where she was manager, curator, acting coach and director or as she referred to herself, chief cook and bottle washer.