Foul Play at the Fair

by Shelley Freydont

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Liv drove right up to her door, grabbed Whiskey, and hurried inside before the Zimmerman sisters could stop her to ask what was going on. She ran into the little bathroom to get towels to dry him off, but Whiskey disappeared under the bed.

  She didn’t blame him; she felt like crawling under there with him. She went back into the bathroom. Turned on the water and filled the little lavatory with warm water.

  She pulled a clean washcloth from the bar and saturated it with water, then pressed it to her swollen eyes. Stood there breathing and letting the warmth seep into her skin. She dropped it back into the water and stopped.

  Looked. Looked again. The rust, which had been dark orange on her hands, had turned to splotches of red on the cloth and had tinted the water pink. She looked down at her hand. A rusty red streak spread across her palm. Disbelieving, she slowly looked into the mirror, a smear of red across her cheek.

  Blood. It had to be. She must have cut herself when she fell over that stupid farm machine. She inspected her hand, then her face, but found nothing.

  Whiskey must have cut himself in the woods. She grabbed a towel and hurried into the bedroom, dropped to her knees by the bed, and peered beneath it. Whiskey was curled up in the far corner.

  “Come here, boy,” she coaxed. Whiskey just looked at her. “I’ve got a treat.”

  Slowly, Whiskey crawled out. She grabbed him by the front paws and pulled him out from under the bed. Sensing betrayal and no treat, he wriggled to get away, but Liv held fast, inspected his ears, his muzzle, legs, body, and found nothing but a brush of pink where she had held him and a lot of burrs and mud.

  She sat back on the floor. After a poor-me look, Whiskey skulked away to the kitchen. Liv made a note to call the groomer in the morning and went back to look at the stained washcloth.

  Junior? But she hadn’t touched him, or anyone else for that matter. What else had she touched besides the farm equipment in Andy’s barn? An idea was pushing at her brain but she didn’t want to go there. Didn’t want to be any more involved in this whole mess than she already was. But it wouldn’t go away.

  Blood. She forced herself to go back into the bathroom. She lifted the washcloth out of the water and wrapped it in her shower cap. Then she carried it to the kitchen and removed it to a freezer bag, sealing it tight.

  Looking at it long and hard, she tried to make that niggling suspicion go away. So what if the blood was on the machine? Farming was a physical business. The farmhands were bound to get cut and scraped. She was probably blowing this all out of proportion.

  Like you’ve been doing ever since they found Pete Waterbury’s body.

  Hey, she argued with herself. I haven’t blown this up. If anything, I’ve sped along the investigation. Much to her chagrin and guilty conscience. And she couldn’t ignore the stains on the washcloth. Or the pink-tinged water. Or the blood across her face.

  But she also couldn’t go running to Bill or anybody else with the information. She was also responsible for Victor’s arrest; she wasn’t going to endanger anyone else.

  At least not until she had more information. And until then she was just going to pray that one of Andy’s employees would be sporting a big, big Band-Aid.

  “Emergency,” Liv said when Sharise Lee opened the door to the Woofery the next morning.

  “Good heavens, what happened?”

  “He went for a dip in the lake.”

  “Well, we’ll fix you right up, won’t we, sweetie,” Sharise cooed and took Whiskey from Liv.

  “Thanks. I hope it doesn’t put too much work on you today.”

  “I never have too much work,” Sharise said. “I’ll have him finished and smelling sweet as a Westie terrier by six.”

  “Thanks.” Liv speed walked across the green. She considered going straight to work and letting Ted pick up their morning drinks. She was sure everyone had heard the news of Victor’s arrest, and she wasn’t looking forward to taking the fallout.

  Suck it up, Liv. The sooner you face it…She went into the bakery.

  Dolly didn’t mention the arrest. She barely exchanged a word with Liv while she bagged two sour cream pecan muffins.

  BeBe was more sympathetic. “I know you had to do it, but I hope he’s not guilty. From what everyone has said, that Pete was a snake.”

  Ted just gave her a look and took the drinks tray and bakery bag from her.

  “It’s not like I set off to entrap him,” Liv said as soon as Ted carried the tea tray into her office.

  “No one said you did.”

  “Dolly hardly said a word to me this morning.”

  “Dolly has a soft spot for the underdog. And people are already asking her if she knew he was Victor and that’s why she let him sweep out the bakery.”

  “So what if she did?”

  Ted shrugged. “Doesn’t matter in the least. Just something to talk about. You’re the only person in town who’s upset about Dolly. We’re good at putting on events, but what we’re really good at is making something out of nothing and talking about it to everyone. It’s what we do. Now, drink your coffee before it gets cold.”

  “Ted, he’s your nephew.”

  Ted put down the muffin he’d been about to take a bite of. “I am well aware of that. And I’ll do anything I can to help him. But no, I didn’t recognize him, either. He was probably ten when I saw him last. I was away most of those years.” He paused, gave her a considering look. “We all have a lot to answer for.”

  “Especially me. If I had made sure we were alone when I confronted him. If I hadn’t made the connection at all. If I had minded my own business. I didn’t intend to tell the police—at least not until I was sure—Why are you smiling?”

  “You’re an organizer, a planner, a problem solver. That’s what makes you a good event planner. No one expects you to turn that off when you step out of your professional mode. The people to blame for Victor’s arrest are those two dingbat detectives and the person who spied and told. Actually, we should thank you for seeing things we were too dense to see.”

  “Thanks, but it doesn’t make me feel better.” Liv leaned forward on her desk. “Do you know who overheard us and called the police?”

  “No, and I wouldn’t tell if I did. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for what might happen to that person now that Junior’s true identity is known.”

  “Can we blame this on Janine, too?”

  “Sorry. She’s spending a few days with friends in New York.” He suppressed a grin. “She doesn’t know that the buzz about her arrest has been supplanted by something much more interesting. And nobody seems to be in a hurry to tell her.”

  “Have you talked to Bill?”

  “Actually, I did. Last night at the station and again this morning. He called to let me know that he made a few calls. Bill may be slow and a bit stuck in his ways, but he gets the job done and he has friends. I don’t think those two detectives will be bothering us for much longer.”

  “But the damage is done.”

  “Listen to you. What if Victor is guilty? That would make you a hero.”

  “That would make it worse.”

  Ted chuckled. “Well, I guess that makes you one of us, then.”

  That should make her feel better, being accepted as one of them, but it just made her feel worse, like it doubled her betrayal of Victor Gibson.

  She had considered telling Ted about the blood and the washcloth that she’d placed in her refrigerator. But after that affirmation, she decided she’d better keep it to herself. She forced herself to work all morning, but she went out at lunchtime. Straight to the Clarion office.

  “Nice bit of investigation,” Chaz said, when she finally woke him up.

  “I feel awful.”

  “Good. You should.”

  “Thanks a lot,” she said miserably, and sat down on the ancient couch beside him.

  “And you banged on my door and woke me up because…”

  To tell you
that I’ve got a bloody washcloth in my fridge at home? The old Chaz might be intrigued, but the Chaz she knew would just scoff at her. “I don’t know. Misery loves company? I thought you might have some words of advice.”

  “That would make you feel better? Well, I don’t.” Chaz heaved off the couch, yanked up the coffeepot, and disappeared into the bathroom. Liv listened as he emptied the pot and filled it up again.

  He was taking his time. Waiting for her to leave? She should. She didn’t even know why she’d come. If she thought he would be sympathetic, she was dead wrong.

  He returned with the filled carafe and poured it into the coffeemaker. Measured grounds while Liv watched.

  When the coffeemaker began to make popping noises, he turned on her. “Didn’t I tell you to stay out of this?”

  “I don’t recall those exact words.”

  “And you, of course, would.”

  “I’m meticulous and I wasn’t trying to investigate. I was picking up my dog from the groomer’s. He got out when another customer came in, and he took off for the cemetery. I followed him right to Junior—Victor—who was standing near a grave. We walked out together, and okay, I’m guilty of doubling back and taking a look at the grave.”

  “And it belonged to Eleanor Gibson.” Chaz blew out a long hiss of breath.

  “There was a bouquet of wildflowers on it. It was so—” Liv’s voice cracked.

  “Oh God, don’t lose it. I haven’t had my coffee.”

  Liv sniffed. “I never lose it.”

  “No, of course not. You probably never have a moment’s lack of emotional control.”

  Ouch. “Oh shut up.”

  “Look. Here’s the deal. If you play in scum, you get dirty.” The coffeemaker beeped. “You want coffee?”

  “No. Thanks.”

  “Liv, shit happens. Sometimes it’s better not to look too close.”

  He turned back to the coffeemaker and Liv slipped away.

  She walked back to her office, wondering if that was what had happened to Chaz. If shit had happened and he couldn’t or didn’t want to face it anymore. It would be totally understandable. But even though he was blatantly uninterested in anything but fishing, she thought the reason went deeper than just being fed up with the slime.

  And Liv was beginning to sympathize.

  Ted had left a note that he would be out for the rest of the afternoon. A water pipe had burst at the VFW hall where the jack-o’-lantern contest was being held, and he had to confirm an alternate location.

  Ordinarily Liv would have joined him and checked it out for herself. But it was time she got used to delegating responsibility. Hard for a control freak like her. But it was time to step back, not try to fix everything herself. Almost time. She had one more thing to do before she washed her hands of the whole mess.

  She got in her car and drove out to Andy Miller’s farm.

  The Zoldoskys’ truck was gone and so was Andy’s. They were probably at the police station and she’d made the trip for nothing. If she were honest, she was a little relieved; she hadn’t fully figured out how she was going to ask Andy about the blood without accusing him of murder or appearing ridiculous for asking.

  She started to turn around, then thought of the barn and the equipment stored there. No one at home.

  Don’t do it, Liv. Leave it alone.

  But problems didn’t get solved by leaving them alone.

  Liv resolutely turned off the engine and got out of the car. Just a quick look around. She walked over to the barn, trying not to look furtive, and slid the door open. A shaft of sunlight spilled onto the floor. In the daylight it was easy to make out the contents of the barn. She saw the thresher with its big teeth, but the machine she had grabbed onto had been covered again.

  She swallowed and gingerly pulled the tarp back. Peered closely at the handle she had grabbed in the dark. She couldn’t really see anything. But she did hear a sound that sent her adrenaline racing.

  A truck.

  She quickly lowered the tarp and retraced her steps to the door just as Andy’s truck stopped and Serge, Georgi, and Andy got out. They stopped, staring at her as she walked out of the barn.

  “Liv?”

  Liv forced a smile. “Hi, I was just looking for you.”

  Andy came toward her, his expression puzzled. He looked so tired and pale Liv felt sorry for him. She really hoped he hadn’t killed Pete Waterbury. Where was the good of acquitting Junior only to accuse Andy?

  “What did you want?”

  “What? Oh, I was just out this way and wanted to see how things were going.”

  “The maze is ready to open, but you know that.”

  “See you later,” Serge said, and he and Georgi left Liv and Andy alone.

  “I really came by to see how you were. And to apologize for…”

  “I’m fine,” Andy said without conviction. “If that’s all, I have some things I have to do.”

  “Okay, sure.”

  Liv got back in her car feeling like she had been slapped. She drove back to town, relieved and disappointed. That had been stupid, a wasted opportunity. She knew no more now than she did before; she’d chickened out just when she might have learned the truth. She needed to call Bill.

  She reached for her cell; the call went to voice mail. She considered just hanging up, but asked Bill to call her. At least he could tell her to butt out and she wouldn’t have to be involved any longer.

  She worked late but Ted didn’t return. Liv picked up Whiskey, paid Sharise for the second time in two days, and took him straight home. As soon as she opened the door, Whiskey shot inside.

  Liv heard something behind her. She turned around. At the same time, her front door slammed shut and something was yanked over her head, cutting out the light from the porch. The bag was scratchy, and it was hard to breathe. And the smell, sickly sweet.

  She was seized by strong, large hands. She tried to fight but her arms and legs seemed out of her control. They dragged her into the bushes, and she became disoriented. So hard to breathe.

  Another arm grabbed her feet; three arms. Two assailants. They carried her, then dropped her on a hard metal surface, a truck. Her hands and feet were tied. One man dragged her farther into the truck bed and the other slammed the gate.

  After the initial shock, Liv began to think. Not a random act of violence. Someone had been waiting for her.

  The truck picked up speed; the metal vibrated beneath her, jarring her bones and her teeth. It hit a bump, and Liv’s shoulder came down hard on the metal. She tried to move, and that was when she realized one of her captors was in the back with her.

  Think, Liv. Think. But it was hard to think with the burlap tickling her nose and the dust clogging her windpipe. And that smell. Truck, dust, burlap, farm. Zoldoskys. Andy, Joss, the Weavers, a dozen other people she knew.

  Liv made strangling noises and got no response from her captor.

  “I can’t breathe,” she yelled over the rattle of the truck.

  Still no response.

  Where were they taking her? On the highway somewhere. What were they going to do with her? Kill her? Why? Revenge? One of the Zoldoskys? All of them? Two of them. Three arms. Georgi and Serge and his one good arm. What could they possibly be thinking? Surely they wouldn’t kill her, would they?

  But if they killed Pete…No. She needed to stay calm.

  Maybe they would hold her for ransom. Good luck with that. She didn’t think she was anybody’s favorite person right now. They might just think good riddance and get on with things without her.

  The truck turned again, bumped violently. They’d left the road; they were riding over dirt now. The truck stopped. Liv slammed up against the cab. For a second she thought she was going to pass out. She heard the gate as it was let down; then she was lifted out of the truck. Her feet fell to the ground.

  “Let me—” A hand slapped over her nose, pushing the burlap into her face. She tried to suck in breath but she couldn’t take
in air. Then nothing.

  The rain woke her up. At least, she thought it must be rain. She lay on the ground, stunned.

  When she finally tried to move, she couldn’t. Her head was still covered; her hands and feet were tied. She’d been kidnapped. It was coming back to her.

  She tried to wriggle out of the bag, using her bound hands to push it off her head. Sucked in cold air when it finally fell away. Let the rain fall on her face. Rain. She was outside.

  She looked around. It was dark. Above her, the sky was dark. The rain clouds must be blocking out the moon. And she had no idea where she was or how long her kidnappers would be gone.

  She twisted at the ropes that bound her wrists and succeeded only in making the knots tighter. Shivering, she brought her wrists to her mouth, using her teeth to work the knot loose, but it wouldn’t budge.

  She gave up and pulled her feet to her chest. That knot was looser. Painfully, she began to work the wet rope out of the loop. It seemed to take forever, but at last the first loop fell away only to reveal another. With a cry of frustration, she began again. She had to keep brushing her face against her shoulder to get the hair out of her eyes.

  She needed to hurry; they might be back any minute.

  She worked the last knot out and yanked the rope from her feet. The violence of the movement catapulted her back and she fell into dried stalks of…corn. She was in a cornfield.

  No, not a cornfield. The maze. Andy’s maze. She breathed a sigh of relief. Freedom was just a few turns away. She remembered Andy saying there was an entrance and an exit, two ways to get out if she lost her way.

  She rolled to her knees. Using her bound hands, she pushed to her feet and immediately fell to her knees. Her feet didn’t seem to have any feeling. It must have been the ropes, because even though she was freezing, it wasn’t cold enough for frostbite. She hoped.

  Her second attempt was more successful. She managed to get upright but was struck with a wave of nausea. They must have given her something to knock her out. She stood with her face lifted to the stinging rain, willing her body to be strong, for her mind to clear.

  After a few minutes she felt better. She had to move, but which way? She tried to get her bearings, but it was no use. That’s why they call it a maze; just move. Using the wall of stalks as her guide, she started forward, the dry stalks scratching and slapping at her hands. She moved as fast as she could and smacked into an impenetrable wall. She reached out to her right, more wall. To her left and groped empty space.