by Liz Marvin
Prior to the guards (and cameras) the animal barns were the place for kids to meet and hang out. Back in the day ‘a roll in the hay’ really meant just that and the older Four H members always made sure to reserve a couple empty stalls near the back corner for use by young lovers.
For the last half century the new place to neck and pet was underneath the bleachers beside the reviewing stand.
Even during the day this was a place lost in shadows. Thirty, forty, fifty years of trash lay under the bleachers. Old newspapers and broken two by fours lay where they fell. Presumably the rotted and broken supports were replaced by county maintenance crews although one never knew. Only the bravest local teens or tourists sat in the upper seats.
With the afternoon competitions over and the sun low in the sky couples slyly made their way by various circuitous routes known only to everyone past the bandstand, past the large gate used by vehicles and animals, past the reviewing stand to the bleachers.
The first to arrive was Gaylee Madison followed shortly by her beau Scooter James. They found each other’s hands in the sunlight but Scooter had his arm around her waist at the first shadow and kissed her on the cheek once they were inside the bleachers framework.
That is as far as they got. Gaylee pulled free, ready for a little hide and seek even if she had no intention of trying not to be caught.
Scooter caught up with her right in the middle of the bleachers and that is when they practically stumbled over her. Mrs. Johnson. She was lying face down except her head was turned almost completely around and the side of her skull was caved in. A bloody broken two by for lay beside in the bloody mud.
The teens’ screams could be heard clear across the fairgrounds
~
In her youth Marlee May had dreamed of dying of old age in her own bed surrounded by generations of loving family. Childless by choice, she now dreamed of dying in her sleep many years from now.
In her youth she had no use for the lover’s lane side of the bleachers and wouldn’t have been caught dead seated in them but she had always loved the reviewing stand. That was the center of attention. A place of honor and prestige. That was where all the judges and dignitaries sat and all the blue ribbons handed out.
She had never been a judge and only sat in the reviewing stand once, with her husband when his bank was being honored for ten years as a sponsor. Even after she had caught the cooking competition bug she had not come to watch the results and only came to receive her blue ribbon.
Until the pie eating competition today she had worn her ability to avoid such spectacles as a badge of honor but of course with her husband competing even on a lark she had to go and hold her head up. She would never let it be said she wasn’t at her husband’s side even if he was embarrassing her.
She came to the bleachers now for one reason and one reason only: the place was empty. She had come there alone. Marlee May had never seen any of the tractor pulls or greased pig chases but between spectacles there was a grimy solitude found only in such places – but only between spectacles.
This was one of the few places in the fairgrounds where one could be solitary and along. She didn’t mind the crowds. Didn’t hate them. Didn’t need them. She just didn’t care and she could afford not to care both socially and economically. She was more than just a big fish in a small pond. She was a sea bird. Free to go anywhere inside or outside the pond. The rest of the town could be fishies. Big or small didn’t matter. Birds ate fishies. Fish seldom ate birds and never ate the careful and powerful ones.
She had picked this temporary fortress of solitude to study her ill-gotten gains. She had stolen something and now she wanted to have a look without being observed or disturbed.
She opened her purse and carefully removed Addie’s old tintype with bandaged fingers. The sharp edges had already cut her when she first picked it up and she wanted no more injuries. The picture didn’t interest her but what was written on the back did. In faded brown ink in elaborately cursive script was written a recipe. The pie recipe. The pie recipe was simple enough but she had never even heard of some of the ingredients. She would look them up on the internet when she got home.
She knew that the pie couldn’t be recreated now. Not because she had the recipe. She had no illusions about that. That little brat could cook this pie in her sleep. Of that Marlee May was certain. But everything had to be made from scratch and there was a lot of prep time. There simply would not be enough time.
She dropped the photograph into her designer handbag, zipped it shut and turned just in time to meet a broken two by four swinging for her head.
A scream began deep in her throat. A growl, really, but it was cut short. There was only a sickening thwack. It didn’t hurt. She didn’t think it hurt but her thoughts were jumbled. She spun, stumbled, fell. The last thing she saw were the shoes of her killer beside her purse. Then the purse disappeared from view but she no longer knew the words for shoes or purse or purse or anything. There were only shapes that quickly faded to darkness.
Marlee May’s body was found a short time later by a teen-age couple who, once they saw her, ran screaming for some adults.
~
“The state police will be here soon. And the county coroner. Hell this is a mess.” Bill stood with his hands on his hips looking down at Marlee May’s body which lay just at it fell some twenty feet away. Achmed and Clarise were working crowd control, keeping everyone back. Wes finished putting up yellow “Police Do Not Cross” plastic tape. A flash went off. Someone was taking pictures! Betty thought about taking the camera away and beating the photographer about the head with it. “If that was your brother or sister would you do that?” She yelled. “Sorry” came the reply.
Bill smiled at her. Betty rested her hand on his shoulder and he patted it.
“Wes has the area cordoned off. Do you want me to find Danby?”
“I wish you could.”
“But I can’t because it’s your duty to break the news to him.”
“And because as her husband he is a potential suspect.”
“He wouldn’t have taken her purse.”
Bill studied the body and the area around it. “She did have a purse didn’t she?”
“An expensive one. Designer bag. Those have serial numbers.”
Bill snorted “A serial number on a purse? Can you file them off?”
“Laugh all you want but the purse loses all its value if that number is gone and it is easily traceable if it’s not.”
Bill looked thoughtful. “Any idea who the maker was?”
It was Betty’s turn to think. “Ask Mr. Johnson and if that doesn’t work check with Thelma and the rest of the gossiping grannies. They’ll be able to identify the make, model and year. Probably want to tell you about every purse she owned and what fashion mistakes they were and which ones went with which outfit and which ones clashed -
Bill held up his hand. “I get the picture. Any chance you’d talk to them?”
“Oh no. That’s way too sensitive for me. Besides it might be one of them.”
Bill wasn’t laughing. “Please. They’ll pump me for more information than they’ll give me and it’ll take half the night.”
Betty couldn’t resist him and she really didn’t want to. The truth was she would do anything for him up to and including interrogating the gossiping grannies.
“I’ll meet you back at the cook tent.”
Bill nodded. Wes joined him, out of breath and avoiding looking at Marlee May. “Achmed and Clarise have the crowd under control. Want me to find Johnson?”
“Yeah. Take him to the cook tent. Keep everyone away and don’t say anything to him until we get there.”’
We. Bill had said we. Betty pondered it as she walked then it occurred to her. He would wait for the county sheriff and state police to show up. Each would assign a lead investigator and they’d fight about who would be in charge of the investigation and try to push Bill aside. Suddenly dealing with the gossiping grannie
s didn’t seem like such a bad deal.
But Betty didn’t have time to dwell on Bill’s problems for long. Thelma was waiting just outside the tape. “Waiting like a predator at the edge of a watering hole” Betty thought and immediately was ashamed. For all her faults, Thelma was Marlee May’s friend. Truth be told, Thelma did not have many friends and close family. The news would be crushing.
Clarise joined her before she reached the tape? “What next?” “Get the gossiping grannies and bring them to the cooking tent” Betty whispered “and hurry!”
Clarise nodded once and was on her way. Steeling herself Betty walked directly up to Thelma. “Who is it?” She asked before Betty had reached her.
Betty ducked under the tape and locked arms with Thelma. “Come on. Take me back to the tent.”
Putting Thelma in charge was a stroke of genius. She cooed comforting words to Betty and shooed everyone else away. Betty couldn’t have made it back to the tent faster if she had sprinted not; she thought wryly, that she was likely to be sprinting anywhere.
Addie was dumping one of two old wooden buckets filled with water into a huge old kettle sitting atop the large restaurant stove that Achmed had managed to finagle for them. Her hair was matted and face glistened with sweat from the exertion but she smiled at the two women when they entered the tent.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Thelma demanded. Addie, to her credit, did not back down. “There weren’t nobody here so I figured to stick around and keep an eye out. I run home to pick more berries and brought back creek water to cook with. It has more minerals and such and makes everything taste better. Least that’s what grannie used to say.”
Betty shook free from Thelma “How far away do you live?”
Addie looked at her shoes, dusty and scuffed. “Oh I dunno. Mebbe six mile if you go straight and don’t bother with roads.”
“You carried those buckets of water six miles?” Even Thelma seemed impressed.
Addie was bashful again. “Aww no. Creek’s no more’n four and a half mile away. Berry patch is even closer and I got enough to make a pie – that is if I can start to cooking them tonight.”
Betty cast a wary eye toward Thelma who only hesitated a moment. “All right, fine. But only prep work. You can’t start making the crust or the pie until tomorrow.”
Addie practically jumped and her smile warmed even Thelma’s heart. Thelma actually smiled back when Addie gave her a quick hug. “I need two more buckets of water before I can finish!” and the girl was off and running before either Betty or Thelma could stop her.
Thelma sighed as the girl disappeared. “I wish I had half her energy.”
“You and me both,” Betty agreed. “But it would be wasted on me because I would never run eight miles through the dark for two buckets of creek water.” Thelma laughed. It was quiet, almost birdlike and delicate but it was genuine. Betty took Thelma’s hand and led her to a bench, sitting down and never letting go. Thelma looked into Betty’s face and read the truth.
“It was somebody I know.” Not a question. Betty nodded and squeezed her hands. “Thelma I just don’t know how else to say it. It was Marlee May.” Thelma didn’t react. Betty took a deep breath and tried again “Marlee May Johnson is dead.”
Thelma pulled free and stood up. “No! She can’t be dead. She has to bake …” Thelma fainted. Betty jumped up in time to catch her. She lowered her to the dirt floor and held her in a sitting position and waited for her to regain consciousness.
Clarise arrived with Mrs. Livingston and Edna Rail “Betty this is all I could round up – oh!”
Clarise didn’t need to ask what happened. She knew. Ira Livingston and Edna Rail clearly did not. They rushed to gather up Thelma and care for her, sparing dirty looks for Betty who gladly relinquished her spot.
Betty sidled up to Clarise “How did you manage not telling them?”
“I’m an actress. I improvised.”
Thelma came around and immediately dissolved into tears. She was unable to talk. Ira and Edna quietly fought for the privilege of having Thelma’s head resting on her shoulder. Thelma obliged them both slipping from one embrace to the other, sobbing uncontrollably all the while.
Clarise pulled Betty away. “Leave them their privacy.” Betty snorted in disgust but allowed herself to be pulled to the back of the tent. “They’ll sort things out and comfort each other better without our help and besides you need a break.”
Betty and Clarise sat down together at the back of the tent. “This is not how I pictured being a judge at the fair when I was a little girl.”
Clarise grinned. “You really dreamed of becoming a judge?”
Betty grinned back. “You’re the center of attention, people take your opinion seriously and all the great food you can eat.”
“And then the fair is attacked by a gang of thieves, the contest is vandalized and one of the contestants is murdered.”
“Do you think they’re all related?”
“Do you think it’s just coincidence?”
Betty rubbed her temples. “I don’t have to think. I just have to smile and taste things. Little tiny bites.” Clarise gave her a hug and Betty just naturally hugged her back. “We’ll get through this, Bill and Wes will catch the crooks and the murderer.”
“And you and Achmed and Gladys will get me through this cooking competition in one piece.”
Betty watched as Ira carried her purse to the stove. She opened the bag and removed three tea bags. Betty had always wondered what the gossiping grannies carried in their voluminous purses and now she knew. Mrs. Livingston found three cups and dipped each into the water on the stove, adding a tea bag and setting it aside. Glaring at Betty and Clarise she humphed and turned her back on them, returning to her friends still seated on the dirt floor.
Betty and Clarise waited until they had finished their tea and moved stiffly onto chairs before approaching them. “I’m sorry -”
“You should be! Keeping us in the dark while you terrorize poor Thelma!” Ira Livingston was winding herself up. Betty had to stop her.
“I’m sorry but we have to ask you some questions. What kind of purse did Marlee May have with her today?”
“Well I never! Of all the rude insensitive -”
“Because there was no purse with her.”
“Those teen agers probably took it. Has your boyfriend arrested them yet?”
Betty felt her face flush not with embarrassment but anger. “If you don’t know then perhaps one of the other gossiping grannies might.”
There. She had said it. She had called them the name that must not be spoken. Everyone knew the little clique of older women who made everyone else’s business their business but nobody called them the name to their faces. A sign of deference and respect for their age and the fact that they were basically good hearted and harmless. But not today. If they wanted to hurt Betty she would hurt them right back.
Thelma regained her composure first. “She had her Tony Salieri Italian leather pink paisley petite hobo. Twelve and one half inch drop leather hoop handles and a zipper top. She used to joke that the drop was a thousand dollars an inch only she wasn’t joking.”
“Do you know what she carried in it?”
The three women looked at Betty like she’d grown another head.
“No” they answered as one.
Clarise took Betty’s arm. “Please don’t talk about this with anyone.” she said over her shoulder as she pulled Betty outside. The three women, heads together, whispering, ignored her.
~
Bill and Wes were approaching just as the two women escaped the cook tent. “I can’t believe you called them the gossiping grannies to their face!” Clarise giggled. “Well if the whole town knows about it by tomorrow morning I’ll know who to blame!” Betty laughed.
“Someone want to let us in on the joke?” Wes asked. The two women turned to him and deadpanned “no” and the dissolved in infectious laughter but Wes and Bill weren’t la
ughing. Clarise noticed first and calmed herself down. “Tony Salieri paisley leather purse.”
“Pink” Betty added, smiling. “I can download a photo from the web and send it to you.”
“We’ll take care of that.” The Statie finally spoke up. Are the friends of the deceased inside?” He nodded toward the tent just as Thelma screamed.
10. Chapter 9
Thelma, Edna and Ira were each laid out on a cot at the nurse’s station. Gladys made quick rounds between the three women, fluffing pillows, keeping them sitting up and sipping tea.
“Strangest thing I’ve seen in just about forever. Just plain strange.” Gladys was talking to herself but also for the benefit of Bill, Clarise and Betty.
“All three of them have nausea, elevated heart rates and headaches and they can barely sit up let alone stand. I’d blame it on stress but not with all three exhibiting the same symptoms. I just don’t know.”
“They all had some tea that Edna made.”
“And Edna drank.” Clarise pointed out.
“Maybe something in the creek water that Addie was using?” Betty suggested.
“The water was boiling. That would sterilize anything unless, maybe there’s a busted septic system upstream or somebody dumped some solvents in the stream…”
“All hypothetical. The Statie took a water sample. They’ll figure it out.”
“I should tell Addie.” Clarise said and Betty nodded, wishing she’d thought of it. Bill nodded too and gave Betty a squeeze.
“Will they be all right?” Bill asked.
Gladys leaned over and whispered to them “I’d have kicked them out half an hour ago if it was anybody else but these three; what with the loss they all had tonight I’ll fuss over them a bit longer. You two go on home.”
“I am surrounded by good women.” Bill answered. “Thank you.”
“You get this one home and get a glass of red wine in her.”
Bill grinned “I don’t know where that came from but I like where it’s going.”
