Foul Play at the Fair

by Shelley Freydont

“Which is why it was even more important for you to stick around.”

  Bill grunted and heaved himself to his feet. Gardening was probably not the best activity for a man who suffered from sciatica.

  “Parking tickets. That’s what he said. Stick to parking tickets.”

  Ted growled in frustration. “And you got on your high horse over that? He was baiting you. You have more sense than to walk into that kind of manipulation.” He stopped. His eyes narrowed. “It wasn’t that. Why did you put yourself on vacation leave?”

  “Aw, hell, Ted. Don’t start surmising. I don’t know nothing you don’t know. But I’ve been a cop here for almost twenty years, run folks in that deserved it, helped out a few who needed it. I’ve even given out my share of parking tickets. I know my job.”

  Ted nodded slowly. “You’re upset that someone felt they needed to call in the state.”

  Bill picked up the basket of weeds and walked over to the fence where he dumped them into a pile of drying clippings. He carried the basket back, moved his step stool farther down the row, and sat down.

  Liv was pretty sure she was about to see Ted lose his temper for the first time. He was vibrating with suppressed frustration.

  “And you call Devoti a jackass. You’re the one that needs a swift kick.”

  “Your opinion.”

  Liv couldn’t stand the tension. “Bill, we need you to find this killer.”

  Bill looked up, smiled a half smile, and shook his head. She knew just how Ted felt; she felt like giving the sheriff a swift kick herself.

  “Liv, when you’ve been around awhile longer, you’ll see that folks usually end up doing the right thing.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nobody’s gonna let Joss go to jail for something he didn’t do.”

  “And if it’s an outsider?”

  “We’ll just have to hope that Mutt and Jeff can figure it out.”

  “I don’t get it,” Liv said. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I don’t believe you’re just going to weed beans or whatever those things are and let your good friend rot in jail.”

  Bill flinched. “It’s out of my hands, and if I act on my own, there will be hell to pay, not to mention that anything I find will not hold up in court.”

  Ted snorted. “Then I guess you don’t want to know that Roseanne recognized Pete from pictures of her dad. She sought him out and he convinced her to unlock the store for him.”

  Bill straightened up, suddenly interested. “And you know this how?”

  “She told Liv.”

  “Liv?” Bill turned to Liv. “She came to you?”

  Liv sighed. “She thought that since I was from Manhattan, I could solve the murder.”

  “Of all the—” Bill said fondly. “Maybe you better tell me the whole story. I’ve got some cider in the house. Something tells me this is gonna take a while.”

  They followed him through a back porch crammed with cast-off machinery, old bicycles, and piles of newspapers and into an old-fashioned kitchen as clean and well kept as his yard.

  While Bill poured out three glasses of Waterbury Farms cider, Liv and Ted told him about Roseanne’s midnight visit and the second visit at the office.

  “So, the door was unlocked. Donnie never relocked it. Anybody could have walked right in.”

  “Huh,” Bill said.

  “Which,” Liv continued, “has to be good for Joss. Right?”

  “They have until tonight. Forty-eight hours or they have to charge him. I wasn’t privy to much of the investigation even before they pulled the plug, but I did get a chance to talk to Joss before then. He swears he didn’t know Pete was back. And he swears he didn’t kill him. That’s all anybody needs to know.”

  He looked at Liv to make sure she was getting it. As if he were speaking a foreign language, and maybe he thought he was. To him, Liv was still an outsider.

  And she’d had enough. “Maybe you should take a page from Roseanne Waterbury.”

  Both men looked confused.

  “She came to me. Not just because I’m from the city, but because she trusted me. It’s about time the rest of you did, too.”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “Don’t give me that innocent look, Bill, and don’t you, either, Ted. The whole town is depending on me to keep the festivals going. Yet you’re all talking to each other all over town but not talking to me.”

  “Now, Liv.”

  “You both clammed up and skulked away the other night after the committee meeting. Fred tried to keep me from talking to Dolly. Ted keeps telling me to stay out of it.”

  “I didn’t,” Ted began.

  Liv quelled him with a look. “And now you’ve decided that’s all I need to know.”

  Ted sighed. “Only because we don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Liv narrowed her eyes at him. “By whom? You think someone out there is planning to kill again?”

  “Aw, hell,” Bill said. “Ted doesn’t know nothing. And neither do I. But someone is a murderer. Anyone who discovers him—or her—might get more than they bargained for. That’s all Ted means.”

  “So you guys really don’t know who killed Pete Waterbury?”

  “Of course not,” said Ted in an offended voice. “What kind of folks do you think we are?”

  “Ones who are very loyal and care deeply about your town and friends.”

  “But not enough to protect a murderer from the justice he deserves,” Bill said.

  Liv looked from Bill to Ted. She believed them, strangely enough. “And if you learn something, you won’t hold out on me?”

  Ted rolled his eyes to the top of his head.

  Bill crossed his arms. “Liv, if I learn something in the course of the investigation, I can’t tell anyone. Not you, not Ted, or anybody else.”

  “But you’re not part of the official investigation.”

  “True.”

  “Ergo.”

  Bill looked blank.

  “Since you’re not part of the official investigation, anything you find out wouldn’t be confidential.”

  “I’m still the sheriff.”

  Liv smiled at him.

  “Aw hell, I guess I better get out to Joss’s and talk to Rosie. Remember what I told you that night at town hall? This business is gonna tear this town apart.”

  Liv hoped he was wrong, but it was already taking its toll on her, and she didn’t even have a deep-seated interest in the outcome, though it would be horrible if Joss was convicted, and even worse if the killer was never caught.

  “I suppose the two of you want to come along.”

  Ted smiled. “Roseanne did ask Liv to be there when she told you.”

  “Aw hell,” Bill said. “I’ll drive.”

  “I’ll drive,” Ted countered. “That’s all Amanda needs. To see you driving up her driveway. She’ll think you’ve come to arrest them all.”

  “I didn’t arrest Joss. I wish everybody would remember that.”

  Ted placed his hand on Bill’s shoulder. “They know that. They’re just frustrated. People take out those frustrations on people they trust. Don’t know why. Guess they figure when the dust clears you’ll forgive them.”

  “I guess. Let’s get going.”

  No one spoke on the way out to the Waterbury farm. None of them was looking forward to what was waiting for them.

  As they turned into the parking lot at the front of the Waterbury farm store, Roseanne came out the door and checked. Her face drained of color when she saw Bill. She took a hesitant step, then froze altogether.

  “Stop, Ted.”

  Ted stopped the car, and Liv slid out of the backseat. Roseanne’s countenance didn’t change, but she didn’t run.

  “Bill just wants to hear your story. Is that okay?”

  Roseanne nodded jerkily. “I told Mom. She said it was okay, but she was pretty mad at me.” Her eyes filled with tears and her mouth quivered.

  “It’s just because she’s scared,” Liv
said and hoped that was all it was.

  Liv and Roseanne followed Ted’s SUV up to the house. Ted and Bill had already gone inside when they reached the kitchen door.

  Roseanne stopped. “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. Actually, you have to.”

  “But what if it makes it worse for Dad?”

  Liv didn’t know how it could make things worse, but she had to admit that she was worried about that, too. “I—I don’t know.” She opened the door and nudged Roseanne inside.

  Amanda Waterbury stood at the sink, looking almost as pale as her daughter. Bill and Ted stood uncomfortably at the far side of the table. When Liv and Roseanne came in, Amanda grabbed hold of the sink edge, looked at her daughter, and then at Liv.

  “I don’t know if Joss would want her involved.”

  “She’s not involved,” Bill said reassuringly. “But she does need to tell me what’s what. I can’t help if I don’t know all the facts.”

  Amanda chewed at her bottom lip, frowning as if she were carrying on a silent argument with herself, or her husband. Finally she said, “All right.”

  “Thank you, Amanda. Maybe Roseanne would be more comfortable in the parlor.”

  Amanda started. “Oh, yes. Do you want Donnie, too? He’s in the fields, doing a dry run of the hayride. He’s determined to carry on with it. Ed Fenway offered to take over, but Donnie’s just like his father. Stubborn and…Go on inside. I’ll just get Donnie on his cell and tell him to come home.” She fumbled in her apron pocket and extracted a phone. “It will take him a few minutes to get the tractor turned around and get back.”

  “That’s fine,” Bill said. “Tell him to take his time.”

  But before she could phone Donnie, a car drove up to the back door. Two car doors slammed. Bill took a step toward the door and looked out, though Liv noticed he stood to one side and looked out at an angle. Police training, she decided.

  He suddenly let out a huge sigh and opened the door. Joss Waterbury, looking tired and disheveled, walked into the kitchen.

  “Joss,” Amanda cried and ran to her husband. “Joss? Joss, honey, are you okay? Did they let you go? Oh, thank the good Lord.”

  Rose sprinted across the floor and threw herself at her father, sobbing.

  Another man had entered behind Joss and he skirted the reunion to shake hands with Bill, then Ted. Bill introduced him to Liv as Silas Lark, a local attorney. He was about the same height as Liv, small-boned with dark, thinning hair and dark-rimmed glasses.

  “What’s the word?” Bill asked him.

  He gave a dismissive shrug, “He’s still a person of interest,” he said, putting air quotes around the words. “They don’t have anything on Joss. But they also don’t have any options. We’re not out of the woods yet.”

  Bill nodded.

  “Why don’t we leave the family alone to celebrate.” The attorney gestured toward the door.

  “What now?” Bill said, when they were standing outside.

  “You’re the sheriff,” Mr. Lark said.

  “And it’s about time you started acting like one,” Ted added.

  “But in a purely unofficial capacity,” suggested Liv.

  The three men stared at her.

  She shrugged innocently. “Since he’s still on vacation, I mean.”

  Bill broke into a grin. “You’re absolutely right, Liv. Silas, mind giving me a ride back to town?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Does this mean Bill is going to continue keeping us out of the loop?” Liv asked as she and Ted drove back to town.

  “No. He’s riding with Silas so he could get the details on what’s been going on at the station.”

  “Are you going to share them with me after he tells you?” Liv asked.

  Ted made a face. “Liv, I do believe you’re becoming a real Celebration Bay resident.”

  Liv puffed out air. “I keep telling you this…Wait. You mean because I’m getting too nosey?”

  “I don’t think you’re too nosey, and yes, of course I’ll keep you informed. Since you were the one to convince Bill to fly under the radar, so to speak.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t believe it’s what I said that convinced him.”

  “Maybe not. Want to stop for lunch?”

  “Better do takeout. I’ve been sorely neglecting Haunted October.”

  They ate at their desks, making phone calls and checking orders between bites. A call to Dolly revealed that she had risen to the occasion and everything was good to go for the food preparation. The traffic committee was organized. Everything seemed to be falling into place.

  “TGIF. You planning to come in tomorrow?” Ted asked as he put on his coat.

  “No. We’re in decent shape. God knows why with all this crazy stuff going on. I think we can manage a Saturday off. I’ll drive out to see Andy, though, then maybe stop by to ask Joss if he still wants to do the hayride.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Unless you want to call.”

  “No, you go ahead. I know how you like to do the hands-on thing.”

  “I do, but if you’re worried that I’ll ask Joss a whole bunch of embarrassing questions, I won’t.” She grinned. “I do, however, expect to hear everything once you talk to him—and to Bill.”

  Ted saluted and lifted her coat out of the closet. “Then go home.”

  He helped her on with her coat and she waited for him while he locked up the office. Outside they parted like they did most days, only today Liv felt just a little lonely as she walked home. Maybe from seeing Joss’s welcome from his wife and daughter, or maybe Dolly’s not wanting to hurt Fred.

  And here she was eating alone on a Friday night. She took out her cell, called BeBe, and invited her for Chinese.

  “Sorry, I have a date. A guy who works down at the marina. Don’t think he’s Mr. Right, but you never know. How about next week?”

  Liv hung up and tried to think what she had in the fridge. Nothing that added up to a meal. By the time she reached home, she was feeling pretty down and just a little homesick for the nonstop pace and social scene of Manhattan. Then she opened the door and Whiskey bounded out, dancing at her feet. Her little house was cozy and quiet and welcoming.

  Actually, she didn’t miss anything about her old life. She’d never even had time for friends or dates there. She’d barely had time for her dog. Still…

  “I guess it’s just me and you, buddy. What do you say to Chinese?”

  The next morning Liv decided to kill two birds with one stone, though she wasn’t sure how politically correct the phrase was, considering recent events.

  She fed Whiskey, donned layers of running gear, and zipped her cell and a few dollars into the back pocket of her interval jacket. The jacket was hot pink, bought originally to ward off speeding taxis, and would hopefully work just as well with the local deer hunters.

  The morning was cold and brisk, and if she didn’t know better, she’d think it was about to snow. But AccuWeather was her home page. Success in the event-planning business depended on accurate forecasting. An opportune appearance of complimentary umbrellas or the sudden raising of waterproof tents had saved more than a few events in the nick of time.

  She ran south toward the county road, her breath making puffs of clouds in the air. Gradually the compact neighborhoods fell away into clumps of trees, an occasional billboard, some scattered businesses, insurance, antiques, bicycle repair, marine supplies, and finally settled into farmland.

  At first cars and trucks passed by in each direction, then only the occasional truck. She had to run in place while a tractor turned onto the road in front of her; she kept pace with it for a few strides before sprinting ahead. The farmer waved as she passed by.

  Soon she was alone on the road; fields stretched out in rolling golden waves, some closely shorn, others knee high. Some were marked by rows of straggling trees, others by barbed-wire fences. Round bales of what Liv guessed was hay dotted the landscape.

  All was q
uiet except for the rhythmic pounding of her feet on the pavement, the in and out of her breath, the wind as it rustled the grasses and trees, and the far-off cry of a bird of prey.

  Now, this was a little piece of heaven. Relaxing nature and clean air, complete with a smooth running surface. No one to bother her. No one whistling at her from a manhole as she dodged traffic on her way to Central Park.

  Liv realized she was pretty darn content, even with a murderer in their midst. One, she reminded herself, they had to catch so their lives and her job could get back to normal. Though for someone, life would never be normal again.

  If Joss had really killed his brother, what would happen to his family? She didn’t think they would be shunned; more likely the town would fete them for killing the man whom everybody seemed to hate. But all the condolences in the world wouldn’t make up for a missing father, husband, employer.

  She didn’t think Joss was guilty, but what did she really know? She’d only met him a few short weeks ago, had dealt with him only over the cider press exhibit.

  Liv slowed her breathing as she powered up a hill. Some people in her business would spin the fact that a murder had taken place at the mill into a real tourist attraction. And people would come. But the idea disgusted Liv. Besides, Pete wasn’t killed in the cider press. His body had to have been dropped there after he was dead. Convenience? Or a symbol?

  Anyone could have done it. Anybody who had a key or knew the door would be unlocked.

  Joss would never have left the body in his own store. But if not Joss, then who?

  Dolly or Fred? Dolly and Fred? Liv couldn’t see them hitting Pete over the head, stuffing him in the trunk of their car, and driving out to Joss’s to dump the body. And wouldn’t someone have heard a car and wondered who it was?

  Bill could have done it. He was big enough. Except not with his sciatica. Unless that was an act. But he didn’t seem to have a motive, though she might not even know what all the motives were. She tried to think back to the morning Ted called her to come out to the store. The scene she walked in on. Joss staring down at the body.

  He had seemed genuinely surprised, and Liv was pretty good at recognizing fakes. She’d had enough practice with the excuses clients used to try to get out of paying. She was sure Joss’s horror and disbelief had been real.