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

by Liz Marvin

  Henry slipped up beside Betty. “Is Addie the winner? Good Lord what is that smell? The producer is getting anxious.”

  A knot formed in Betty’s stomach. “That is a problem.”

  “No” Gladys curtly exclaimed “If these folks don’t get to a hospital soon that will be a problem.”

  The knot tightened. “How bad is it?”

  Gladys turned to Ginny. “Honey can you pass out another round of those capsules to anyone who can take them?” Ginny nodded and hurried away. Gladys watched her go. “I called the hospital. I’m giving everyone activated charcoal capsules. Too little too late but it’s all we can do here.” Gladys whispered “The doctors think its poison. I’m afraid they’re right!”

  Henry was shaking “Was it in the food? I had some coffee and a piece of cornbread. What food?”

  Gladys looked down. “I don’t know for sure” then she looked Henry in the eye “but I’m afraid all of it.”

  Henry practically turned green, dropped his notepad, covered his mouth with both hands and ran from the tent.

  Betty rubbed her forehead. Outside the tent the producer was yelling for Henry to stay away from him and calling for the cameraman to start rolling.

  Things can’t get worse; she thought and then stopped herself. Things could get a lot worse and they probably would.

  13. Chapter 12

  Betty, Clarise and Gladys watched as the last of the patients were loaded into an ambulance. The television crew and reporters were gone. Somehow, between talking to Henry, Betty, Gladys and Ginny they had been convinced it was nothing more than a case of food poisoning. A few reporters said they were going to write a withering expose until Betty mentioned that most of the supplies had been donated by large corporations and had offered to get the reporters a list of companies to contact.

  That had shut them up and when Betty hinted that the blue ribbon might be awarded posthumously to Marlee May Johnson they had hurried off to write up what they could about the murder of a bank president’s wife.

  Betty was about to suggest retiring to the first aid tent for a cup of tea or perhaps even a glass or two of red wine (for medicinal purposes only, of course) when Bill showed up. His face was drawn and pale and the dark circles under his eyes were even more pronounced. However bad Betty’s day was going, his was going worse.

  “I need you to come with me.” He said to Betty.

  “Sure” she answered with more certainty than she felt. When he took her arm just above the elbow and led her away she was downright concerned.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’ll explain in the car.”

  “Can you tell me where we’re going?”

  “Just wait.”

  Betty didn’t like waiting. She didn’t require instant gratification and since she’d been diagnosed with type two diabetes she’d begun to learn just how little gratification she really needed. She could go days without coffee, weeks without wine or beer and months without one of her aunt’s danishes but this wasn’t about her sweet tooth; this was about Bill.

  He knew something and he wasn’t telling her. She knew he must have his reasons and she trusted him unconditionally but … but she still didn’t like to be kept waiting.

  Betty took out the keys to her car but he headed straight for the squad car and opened the passenger door.

  “At least I don’t have to ride in back” she quipped. Bill didn’t crack a smile. Something was very very wrong.

  She sat in silence as Bill got in, fastened his seat belt and started the car. They slowly made their way out of the parking lot and onto the narrow two lane road that headed back toward town.

  Betty never felt comfortable riding in a squad car. Even sitting in the front seat with Bill driving. It was cleaner and more spacious than Betty’s car and it was quieter and more comfortable too but the antiseptic smell, the wire cage right behind her head and all the specialized electronics reminded her that the car existed to deal with tragedy and accident at best and the worst aspects of humanity at worst.

  And Bill would be there for all of it. The car reminded her of the danger he faced every day and the closer she had grown to him the more it disturbed her. This was the life he had chosen but there were times she resented it. Right now his job was stressing him out and that was stressing her out and she hated it.

  “Betty the state police have you on their suspect list. Not enough to question you let alone charge you but you should know.”

  “How could they think I would do something like this?”

  “The murders started when you returned to Lofton. You knew all the victims. The contestants and the gossiping grannies said you had some conflicts with Thelma and Marlee May was Thelma’s closest friend. They also think you; Achmed and Clarise picked Addie to win before the competition began. The gossiping grannies also think Marlee May had the most elegant entry and that whoever destroyed her pie did so to make sure she didn’t win and they killed her for the same reason.

  “That’s nonsense!” Betty could feel her blood pressure rise. She forced herself to calm down. Losing her temper now would do neither of them any good.

  “Most of what they say is nonsense. You know it and I know it but the thing is the Staties and sheriffs don’t know it. Anyway I told them I’d keep an eye on you.”

  He finally smiled and whatever resentment and anger Betty had been feeling dissipated immediately. She smiled back and was pleased to receive a grin in response. He must have been worried sick.

  “I would have watched over you anyway, you know.”

  “Good to know. I assume you’re taking me someplace safe? Maybe a nice quiet diner?”

  Bill was once more very serious. “No. Not exactly. We’re going to the Beurey farm to see Adeline.”

  “She’s all right isn’t she? I mean she’s not in any danger?”

  Bill didn’t answer. They drove on in silence.

  The hills were still a deep summer green. A mix of large and majestic white oak and maple trees that hadn’t been harvested for several generations. In a few months they would change color to brilliant yellows and oranges with splashes of red. Betty loved the fall and the fair that marked the end of summer was also the beginning of her favorite time of year.

  The Beurey farm was no longer a real farm. It was an old two story farm house with a worn tin roof. The white clapboards were worn and faded but the yard was neat and clean and the vegetable garden would have been the envy of any in Lofton.

  The fields surrounding the house were cut short and large hay bale rolls were lined up beside the road for easy retrieval. A ramshackle farm stand stood at the edge of the road beside a long dirt driveway. At least Addie was making some money.

  But clearly not enough. No power or phone lines led to the house and there was no car in the driveway. Only two outbuildings remained standing but there was evidence of three others that had collapsed into themselves.

  “I wonder how long she’s lived out here on her own?”

  Bill shrugged. “Likely since her mom died. She was about sixteen from what I gather. Dropped out of school and ran the farm on her own. Paid her bills, helped any neighbor that asked and never caused anyone trouble. She pretty much fell off the radar.”

  “What changed?”

  “Taxes. Renting the fields and running a farm stand was enough to keep her going but she never raised the rent and her tenants never offered. She got by on less and less until now she’s come up short two years running and there’s a lien on the property. So she wants to win the cooking competition because she needs the money.”

  “Doesn’t she have any family?”

  “Not even a cousin.”

  Bill pulled up to the front door and stopped and was out of the car and opening Betty’s door before she had her seat belt off.

  The front door opened a crack. “GO AWAY!” Addie’s yell was more a cry than a command.

  “Hey Addie! It’s Betty and Bill!”

  “Don’t come up her
e. It’s still my property and you are not welcome so turn around and go!”

  Bill raised his hands and stepped between Betty and the house, walking toward the front door. “Addie I just have to ask a few questions.”

  A gun barrel appeared in the doorway. “I ain’t fooling around. Get!”

  Bill backed up and tried to direct Betty back into the car without taking his eyes off the gun. It wasn’t pointed in their direction but he knew that could change in an instant. Betty, unfortunately, was not cooperating. She dodged around Bill and raced up the steps.

  The gun went off just as Betty reached the door, blowing a hole in the floor of the small porch. Bill dove back into the squad car as Betty barged through the door.

  Bill saw the door slam. He waited, his heart racing, unable to think or move. Seconds passed without another gunshot. Finally he willed himself to get out of the car and march up the steps. He knocked on the door.

  Betty spoke. “I’m okay Bill. Just give us a few minutes for some private girl talk.”

  “I can’t do that, Betty. You both need to come out right now.”

  “William Owens you are not helping. Please just five minutes.”

  Bill stepped back, studied his options. “Five minutes and then I’m calling for backup.”

  He returned to the squad car, got in, closed the door, turned on the car and turned up the air conditioning and waited.

  Fifteen minutes later he called for state and county backup.

  ~

  Betty nearly tackled Addie when she burst through the door. Addie dropped the ancient rifle and caught Betty in her arms, holding her.

  “Are you all right? Oh Lord please don’t be shot!”

  “I’m fine. Really.” Betty regained her footing and straightened up, freeing herself from Addie’s grasp. “But I’m worried about you. What is going on?”

  Addie’s faced crumpled. “I poisoned all those people and now they’re gonna die sure as we’re standing here. They’re all gonna die.”

  “Some folks are feeling better” Betty lied, “and the rest were taken to the hospital. Everyone will be fine.”

  Addie sobbed. “Not me. Look!”

  Addie left the rifle on the floor and led Betty to the dining room. The room was gave austere a new meaning. The wainscoting was original bead boards but the finish was worn and faded to nonexistence. The dining room table was covered with a yellowed lace tablecloth and only one chair remained; a broken relic.

  But on the table rested the photograph of Addie’s Great Great Grandmother beside Marlee May’s purse. The frame was gone but picture was clearly Addie’s. Betty pointed to it. “Is that the picture you lost?”

  “It was here when I come home. I don’t know how it came here or who left it but with all them folks sick no one will believe me.”

  “Did you really poison them” Betty had to know “and how?”

  “Yes! No… I don’t know! I didn’t mean to.”

  Betty had to sit down. She leaned on the table, eyed the chair warily and carefully lowered herself onto it. “Why don’t you explain from the beginning.”

  Addie paced the room as she talked. “Well I found a new thicket of pokeberries, enough for another pie so I decided not to make jam after all but you have to be careful with the pokes. Did you know you can make ink from the berries? I thought to make and sell it but nobody uses quills or fountain pens nowadays.”

  “Addie” Betty said calmly as she could “What about the poison?”

  “I’m getting to that! You remember I brought creek water to boil? It’s got minerals in it that smooth out the flavor in the berries and its spring water so its extra cold - “

  “Addie!”

  “Oh. All right. The pokeberries are poison if you eat them raw and don’t take out the seeds. You have to soak them in cold water then bring them to a boil for ten minutes then let the water cool and throw it away and do it all over again. The water takes out the poison from the fruit but of course then the water is poison.

  “I guess the other contestants saw the boiling water and used it to make tea and instant coffee and even in their recipes. I didn’t know. I was up all night working and watching over everything and come morning I was just worn out.” The young woman leaned against the wall and looked up at the cracks in the ceiling above her.

  “I fell asleep and when I woke up it was too late. By the time my pie was coming out of the oven half the people were already sick or on their way there. I tried to tell them but nobody wanted to listen to me. So I took my pie and I ran home.”

  Addie stopped pacing. Betty stood up and wrapped her arms around the frightened girl. “This isn’t your fault. They shouldn’t have been using anything you were cooking in their recipes. Do you know how toxic the berries are?

  “If all they had was a bit of the second cooking of water I expect they’ll all be fine. The berries were clean and no cracked seeds. Cracked seeds can kill you. You know each berry has an odd number of seeds. Between five and thirteen. I always count them because if I have an even number I know I missed one and I never miss two and I never miss a cracked seed. Roots are the worst but the cracked seeds - “

  “Addie do you know how to treat the poisoning?”

  Addie let go and was pacing again. “My mama said they used to make a poultice with the leaves to treat rheumatism. Never said there was much anyone could do for poisoning except not get it. She wouldn’t even let us eat pigeons if they fed on pokeberries.”

  “Gladys was giving everyone activated charcoal when I left. You sure nobody will die?

  Addie nodded. “Except maybe me from embarrassment.”

  “You’ll be fine and this purse is a wonderful clue. Now we just have to - “

  “This is the state police! The house is surrounded!” An authoritative amplified voice terrified both women. “Release the hostage and come out with your hands up!”

  These clowns sound like they think they’re on television thought Betty. “Which one of us gets to be the hostage?” She asked and Addie giggled. “Come on,” Betty continued lightly “let’s just get this over with.”

  Holding hands they went to the front door. Betty opened the door a crack. There was a large dark blue armored van of some sort and a half dozen state and county patrol cars with officers crouched behind them. Everyone had weapons drawn.

  “Bill did you call the state police?”

  Bill stepped out from behind his car. He wasn’t armed.

  “Yes I did. You’re running late.”

  “Well darn it I’m sorry. I’m always late. You know that. We had to figure out how those blamed fools at the fair managed to get themselves poisoned. Addie figured it out and we would be more than happy to share that information with you all if you’ll just get your friends to lower their weapons a little bit.”

  A nod from Bill and the police relaxed; but just a bit. A few of them straightened up and put away their weapons. Betty opened the door and, holding Addie’s hand, stepped outside.

  Both women were immediately tackled, separated and thrown to the ground.

  “Bill!”

  Bill was there in an instant, lifting her to her feet and hugging her tight. “Elizabeth Crawford if you ever charge into gunfire again I - just please please don’t do that again.”

  Betty hugged him back and for once said nothing.

  14. Chapter 13

  “Oh no. Not by myself anyway.”

  “You wouldn’t know who’s behind the pickpocketing or Marlee May’s murder?”

  Thelma looked away, her grief washing across her face. “No.” Her voice was barely audible, her lips barely moved.

  “I’m sorry.” Was all Betty could say.

  “You find them, Betty.”

  “Bill and the state police -”

  “They’ll try but you, Elizabeth Crawford, will do. Promise me you will.”

  Betty nodded. Thelma closed her eyes and sank back into her bed. “Good. Good.” The state policewoman who interviewed
Betty had been half sympathetic and half accusing. She was about Betty’s age with a deliberately emotionless but pretty face and close cropped black hair. Her crisp blue uniform did nothing to hide her trim and athletic figure. She was eating a donut and drinking coffee from a Styrofoam cup. She had offered one to Betty and it had taken all her willpower to decline politely.

  Despite the policewoman’s best efforts Betty could read people well. The woman didn’t believe she was either trustworthy or important but was going through the motions as a formality. That was fine with Betty; the sooner the charade was finished the better.

  She was in a small room with a single small table and two chairs, a door and a window onto the hall. Through the window Betty could see Wes pacing back and forth. Clarise had been allowed in to talk to Addie. Betty didn’t know why for certain but she could guess; Addie had been crying when she was loaded into the state patrol and she was probably still crying.

  If anyone could calm her down it was Clarise.

  “Is there anything you would like to add?”

  “What – I’m sorry?”

  The policewoman pursed her lips. Impatience tinged with condescension. “Is there anything else you remember from the event that you would like to add?”

  “Well golly let me think. You didn’t ask how the gun went off, didn’t ask if there was any information that might help the several dozen people who were inadvertently poisoned and you haven’t asked a thing about Marlee May’s purse.”

  The woman studied her notepad carefully. “How did the gun go off?”

  Betty leaned back. This was going to be fun. “Accidental discharge when I hit the door.”

  The policewoman put down her pen “Bill said -”

  “You mean police Chief Owens? And please stop studying that notepad. It hasn’t changed in the last ten seconds. Look me in the eye or get on with asking questions and take notes.”

  She carefully printed ACCIDENTAL DISCHARGE all in capital letters.

  Betty made no effort to hide her smile. “Bill – police chief Owens, brought me to Addie’s house to speak with her. She was agitated because some of the cooking contestants had used some of her cooking materials which, when used incorrectly, can be toxic. She was unaware of the use and they were unaware of the dangers. Simple miscommunication but a lot of life’s troubles can be laid to the failure to ask the right questions don’t you think?”