Foul Play at the Fair

by Shelley Freydont

  She turned left. She had no idea how far she was into the maze, but there was only one direction to take. There wasn’t even a star in the sky to guide by. Just black, thick clouds as impenetrable as the cornstalks.

  She came to another turn. Lightning split the sky. For the briefest moment she saw corn higher than her head; she was standing at an intersection of paths that disappeared into darkness on all four sides of her. A crack of thunder and the light was gone, leaving her more disoriented than before.

  She turned left. A scream split the air; Liv screamed in response. Something flew at her in a another flash of light, not lightning, but something wild, jumping and flashing. A hideous face rushed at her and she screamed again.

  She ran, a purely reflexive reaction. Fell headlong into cold, wet vines that slapped against her face and settled on her shoulders and back, trapping her. She flailed wildly to free herself, but her hands were still tied and she succeeded only in getting tangled in the folds.

  All around her, lights were still flashing. Strobe, she told herself. This was just an effect.

  She freed herself just as the octopus retreated into the wall of stalks. She followed it, hoping it would lead her out, but it was just a cavity cut out in the wall to house the mechanism.

  She backed out. Listened for the sound of someone running to save her—or her captors returning.

  And heard a low chuckle. Another effect, she told herself. Just fun and games for fearless teenagers. Something thrashed among the stalks, and she jumped even though she knew it was just more of the Maze of Madness.

  “Aptly named, Andy,” she said aloud and felt better for it.

  The chuckling started up again, only in a different place. The same thrashing sound. Another laugh slightly louder. Andy couldn’t have made this effect move like that. Someone was out there. And they hadn’t come to help her.

  And Liv did something the veteran Manhattan event planner would never do. She panicked. Began to run. Head-on into another dead end. She fought off the prickly leaves. Twisted around. Lost her orientation. Blind in the dark, she couldn’t tell where she had come from or where she should go.

  She stumbled back, crashed against another wall of corn that lit up with hundreds of blinking lights showing stalks infested with crawling spiders. Liv turned and began to run.

  The laughter followed her this time. Joined by another ghoul. They were beating on the branches around her. How close were they? It was impossible to tell in the dark surrounded by drying stalks.

  She thought she saw a light ahead. And raced toward it. It winked out and Liv fell to the ground.

  It knocked the breath out of her and for a few seconds she could only lie there and listen to her own ragged breathing. The rain had stopped; she didn’t know when. But the air was utterly still. And the breathing, she realized, was not just hers.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  She lay still, holding her breath, while the other continued slow and heavy. Was it a recording? Was there somebody on the other side of the wall?

  She couldn’t stop the whimper that bounced against her throat.

  Do not lose control, she told herself. This isn’t some back alley in a bad section of town.

  No, you idiot, it’s worse. And suddenly all the horror stories of murders in small towns came back in one fell swoop. Right about the same time as the footsteps came nearer.

  If she didn’t move…If he didn’t have a light, he might miss her completely. Walk past her. Turn the wrong way. Give up.

  The footsteps were getting closer. She drew herself into a tight ball and scooted back against the wall. And fell into empty space. Touched something clammy and nearly screamed. Pulled herself together. She had fallen into one of the cavities carved out for the horror machines. She wasn’t alone, but she would rather take her chances with the slithery thing hanging alongside her than with whoever was out there in the maze.

  She drew her knees up, breathing into them to keep from being heard. Closer. He was coming closer. She pressed against the back of the cavity, held her breath. The footsteps stopped. She thought she could make out two booted feet right in front of her. Was sure of it when they turned to face her.

  Please just keep going, she prayed. Just keep going.

  He took a step away.

  Liv started to breath again. Her cell phone rang.

  She’d forgotten about her cell phone.

  She heard voices. The other kidnappers. She struggled to unzip the pocket of her jacket. Got her fingers on the phone. Didn’t even stop to think whether she should silence it or answer it.

  She pressed send.

  “Hey, I know I was a bit hard on you this—”

  “Chaz, listen to me. I’m in Andy’s maze.”

  “What?”

  “They’ve put me in the maze and they’re going to find me because of your dumb call. Help me.”

  “Liv, are you—”

  She was yanked out of her hiding place. Her phone went flying.

  Two strong and callous hands grabbed her arms and yanked her to her feet.

  Liv lashed out with her bound hands. “Leave me alone. You’re going to pay for that, whoever you are.”

  “Liv.”

  She knew that voice. Not the Zoldoskys, as she’d suspected. Not Andy.

  “Joss?”

  No. Not this kind, decent man…whose brother had come close to destroying his life. And strangely she couldn’t even blame him.

  “Yes. Can you walk?”

  “Yes.” Mutely, Liv let him lead her though the dark, the small round circle of his flashlight leading them to the exit.

  They made a turn and Liv saw light ahead. She’d been so close. Like that guy in the dungeon who after years of digging a tunnel was met by the inquisitors as he finally climbed to freedom.

  She had one last flare of hope that Andy had finally come to see what was going on.

  Andy had come. He was waiting at the entrance of the maze. And he was holding a shotgun. The uneven light carved deep lines in his face.

  Joss, Andy. Were they alone? Had others plotted to kill Pete Waterbury? Bill? Ted? Had they all conspired together?

  Chaz had been right when he said that so many lives would be destroyed by one amoral boy, the same boy who grew into an immoral man.

  And now she remembered all those furtive looks between the men, shutting up whenever she came near, shutting her out. Not because she was an outsider. It was because they were planning to cover up a murder.

  “Andy,” she said, weariness in her voice. She didn’t even have the spirit to run. It was just too tragic.

  She wondered if Chaz had gotten it through his thick head that she was trapped in the maze. Would he arrive just in time to find her body or would her body never be found? She didn’t even feel the cold anymore. Just disappointment and a bone-deep sadness.

  “Liv? What happened? How did you get here?”

  “Andy, don’t.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Andy, I saw the blood on the thresher. It was totally an accident. I was looking for Victor, and Whiskey led me to the barn. I tripped over the tarp in the dark. It fell off the machine and I grabbed the handle for support. I…I got blood on my jacket.”

  Liv caught sight of a truck speeding up the driveway. A gray truck. Her spirits sank even lower. The truck stopped and Anton jumped out and rushed toward them; Serge and Georgi followed close behind.

  Andy turned to them. “It can’t go on like this. We have to end it now.”

  Anton sighed. “You are right, my friend. It has gone on long enough. No matter what the consequences. Do you agree, Joss?”

  Joss sighed heavily and nodded.

  A shuddered wracked Liv’s body.

  The shotgun wavered in Andy’s hand. “Oh God.” Andy thrust the shotgun into Anton’s hands.

  They were going to kill her. And she’d only been trying to help.

  Andy stripped off his hunting jacket and threw it around Liv’s
shoulders; pulled it tight over her quaking body.

  “Andy?”

  “We’d better get her into the house where it’s warm. I think she’s going into shock.” He gathered her close and steered her to his house.

  None of it was making sense to Liv.

  “Do you know how this happened, Anton?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Anton’s voice seemed to echo from the bottom of a deep well. “Serge and Georgi. They thought to teach her a lesson.”

  He was talking about her, Liv realized, and she fought to pay attention. It was hard. It seemed like her brain was as frozen as her fingers and toes.

  She stumbled up the steps to Andy’s house, vaguely aware of the others following behind. Andy pushed her into a chair in front of the stove and turned it on. “This will get you warm quick.”

  “Anton, untie her wrists and help her get that wet jacket off. I’ll get a blanket.” He passed out of her sight; Liv didn’t care. He’d opened the oven door; the image of Hansel and Gretel flashed before her, before she stretched out her hands to the warmth of the gas flames.

  Andy returned and exchanged his jacket with a heavy woolen blanket, and Liv began to grow warmer.

  He poured tap water into a saucepan and put it on the stovetop.

  “I’ve only got instant coffee.”

  “I’m fine,” Liv said as her brain began to work again. If they were going to kill her, surely they wouldn’t be offering her coffee.

  “My brothers, they are hotheads. They would not hurt you; they wanted to scare you. For you to see the fear of Victor the night we found him half dead by the water. And again last night when those policemen tracked him down no better than a dog.

  “He and Serge are the same age. They are very close. You would take that away from us.”

  “No. I didn’t tell the police about Victor. Someone heard us talking. I tried to catch them but they slipped away. I should have been more careful about where I talked to Junior, but I didn’t want any harm to come to him. He’s had enough bad in his life.”

  “You should have left it alone.”

  “I—” Suddenly she was sick of being the brunt of everyone’s anger. Tired of being on the outside. “Don’t you think it’s time to stop the lies? Which one of you killed Pete? Or was it all of you? How many people did you enlist for that night’s work?

  “I thought the detectives were stupid when they took Joss in for questioning. But maybe I was the stupid one. Tell me, Joss. Were you in on the kill?”

  “No!” Andy practically shouted the word. He slumped, cradled his face in his hands. “No more.”

  “Oh, no.” Not Andy. Liv was hit with a sharp stab of pity. To see his friend after thinking he was dead for thirty years and to have Pete Waterbury return at the same time. It must have been more than Andy could take. And Liv couldn’t blame him. She’d feel the same way. But would she have resorted to murder? She hoped not.

  “Andy, did you kill Pete?”

  “It was an accident,” Anton said. “It was my fault.”

  “No,” Andy said. “It was an accident, but because of me.”

  An accident. Could it be true?

  “Why didn’t you just tell the police?” Liv asked, relieved and exasperated in equal parts.

  Anton snorted. “You said it yourself. The detectives, the town. All were willing to to sacrifice us. I would be sent to jail. And who would take care of my family?”

  Liv thought that maybe three adult men could take care of themselves.

  “Serge and Georgi could make do. But Victor…We are the only family Victor has known since his boyhood. He would be lost without us. Without me.”

  “But you said it was an accident.”

  “It was. But who would believe me? An itinerant circus man.”

  “No one, after you put him in the apple press. That made it look like cold-blooded murder.”

  Serge and Georgi erupted in angry denials. Anton hung his head.

  “And what about you, Andy? How could you let them suspect Joss?”

  “Because I told him to.” Joss’s voice sliced through the charged air of the kitchen.

  “So you knew about this all along?”

  Joss cleared his throat as if it hurt him to breathe. “Afterwards. I didn’t know Pete was back until I found him that morning.”

  “But if you didn’t know—”

  Andy stood and went to the window and looked out. “I think we should wait until Bill gets here and tell the whole story.”

  It seemed like they were always waiting on Bill. Then Liv heard it, too. The sound of cars coming up the drive.

  Moments later, Bill Gunnison came through the back door. He took one look at the group positioned around the table and went back outside again.

  “She’s in here,” he called, and came back inside with Ted and Chaz.

  “Jeez, Liv. Would you like to explain?” Chaz said, glaring at Andy and Anton.

  “Yes, we would,” Andy said. “Let me bring in a few more chairs.”

  They all crowded around Andy’s table while Andy and Anton brought the newcomers up to speed. Bill lectured Serge and Georgi about taking the law into their own hands.

  Then he took out his tape recorder. “This is just for information. Unofficial. I’ll take your formal statements later. First tell me, Anton, how it came about that Pete Waterbury was traveling with your company.”

  “Serge had just broken his arm and I needed a replacement to help with the setup and driving. He showed up and I hired him. I didn’t realize at first that he had chosen us on purpose in order to return to this town incognito. I thought it was just circumstance.”

  “He knew we were on this circuit,” Serge said. “He was going to use us as a cover while he gouged people for money.”

  “Serge, I will tell it. I didn’t learn that until later. When Pete began bragging about the money he would make and the revenge he would take for what the town had done to him.”

  “To him?” Andy blurted out.

  “Of all the bald-faced—” Bill shook his head. Rewound the tape. “Go on.”

  Anton nodded brusquely. “Victor recognized him right away. At first he was afraid to tell even me. His brother. But I could see something was bothering him and at last he told me. Afraid of Pete after all those years. I should have killed him then.”

  “Anton,” everyone shouted at once. Bill rewound the tape recorder. “I’m just recording interviews. I haven’t read anyone their rights, but please don’t make any statements like that.”

  Which probably wasn’t police procedure, thought Liv. But since Bill wasn’t officially back on the case, maybe he didn’t have to go by the book.

  “So Victor recognized Pete, but Pete didn’t recognize Victor?”

  “You see his face. We have come here for three fall festivals and no one recognized him, not even Andy.”

  Andy looked like he might cry. “If he’d only come to me. Let me get close enough to see him, even…”

  “Do not blame yourself. It was his choice.”

  “And what occurred on the night of Pete Waterbury’s death?”

  Anton sat straighter in his chair. “We came home after the park closed. Pete always wore his whiteface so no one would recognize him. But someone did.”

  “I did,” Ted said.

  Anton nodded. “But so did Joss’s daughter. That night at the show he bragged to Victor about how he was going to pay his brother back for kicking him out of the house. I thought he meant to hurt the girl, and I could not let that happen.

  “I would not let him use the truck to go to Joss’s, so he said he would take Andy’s truck. It was late. Andy would be asleep and he would never know.”

  “I keep the keys in it,” Andy admitted. “Though I won’t anymore.”

  “I followed him and tried to stop him. We fought.”

  “I heard the ruckus,” Andy said. “I grabbed my shotgun and went out to investigate. They were in the barn. Pete had Anton on the ground�
��”

  “I am not so young anymore,” Anton explained.

  “You could have taken him,” Serge said.

  “I would have fought him if you had told me,” Georgi added.

  Bill held up his hand, silencing them. “You found Anton on the ground.…”

  “Pete had him by the throat. I yelled at him to stop. I didn’t know it was Pete. I just saw this maniac clown trying to kill Anton. I yelled that I had a gun. But he just kept choking him.” Andy’s voice wavered. He swallowed. “So I hit him on the back with the butt of the shotgun. It didn’t faze him. So I hit him harder, this time on the head.”

  Andy stopped, seemed to be reliving that awful night. “Even then it only stunned him. It was enough for Anton to push him away, but still Pete didn’t let go, and he pulled Anton to his knees.”

  Bill cut a look toward Anton, who nodded. “I grabbed him and pulled myself to my feet; then I pushed him. Hard.”

  “He fell backward.” Andy made a sound between a laugh and a sob. “He tripped over my foot and fell into the thresher. His head hit the shaft. It must have hit something vital because he was dead.

  “You’ll probably find his blood somewhere on the shotgun. It’s over there in the corner. And I kept the thresher covered with a tarp because I knew there might come a time when I’d have to own up to what I did.”

  “Not you,” roared Anton. “It was my doing.”

  Andy shook his head. “It was an accident. I just wanted to stop him from killing Anton. Then when Anton told me that he was Pete—I was—”

  “Andy,” Bill warned. “Clearly a case of self-defense,” he added, shaking his hand. “Why in the devil’s name didn’t you call it in?”

  Andy hung his head.

  “Andy wanted to call the police,” Anton said. “But I knew how it would be. They would say I murdered him. Send me to jail. So I told Andy that Serge and Georgi and I would take care of it. Dump the body on the side of the road so someone would find him and think he had been hit by a car.”