Frosted on the Ferris Wheel

by Laura Pauling

  Millicent’s words chipped away at Holly’s confidence. Her picnic dinner the day before had been completely lame. They weren’t some older married couple. If Trent needed bigger, over-the-top kind of dates, well then, she could at least try.

  She might fail, but she could try.

  Holly showered and dressed in the cutest outfit she owned: a neon yellow tank with a scoop neck and white short-shorts. Not the teeny tiny short-shorts teens wore, but close. Then, instead of flip-flops, she slipped into sandals with two-inch heels. Not very practical. As for makeup, she applied the works, and then spritzed on perfume.

  Feeling a bit more confident and woozy from the cloying scent, she made sure Muffins had food and water, and then left to prepare for her date tonight. They still had a date, right?

  She ran several errands, ordering only the best gourmet meal available in Fairview. She’d cook but...four course meals weren’t exactly her specialty. Unless Trent wanted burnt, dry chicken...or cheesecake. Walking back toward her shop, already regretting the heels, she had a sudden inspiration. This would be the icing on the cake. Perfect. Sitting on the bench, she whipped out her phone and put in a few calls. After finding exactly what she was looking for, even if it was a little pricey, she decided it was time to go to the station.

  Surprise Trent. Bring him cookies. That sort of a thing.

  This time she drove. Holly applied another coat of lipstick, gripped her tin of cream cheese chocolate chip cookies, and headed inside. She offered the secretary a weak smile. The lady nodded, politely. Unfortunately, Holly didn’t have the best reputation with the station. Especially after her run-in with Chief Hardy at the start of summer.

  “Fancy seeing you here, Ms. Hart. Been obeying the speed limit laws?”

  Speak of the devil. Holly straightened. “Yes, Sir, I mean, Ma’am.”

  Chief Hardy, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, glanced at the tin in her lap. “Hope you’re not here to bribe a police officer.”

  “Not at all.” She plastered on a smile. “Just stopping by with cookies for Tr—I mean, Officer Trinket.” Holly struggled. If they were dating, why would she call him Officer Trinket? But had Trent told the office they were seeing each other? Would his boss care?

  Chief Hardy chuckled, then waved a hand in front of her nose. “Who’s wearing that stinky perfume?” She looked back at the secretary who shook her head no. Then she narrowed in on Holly again.

  Holly giggled but stopped. “Sorry. Guess I overdid it.”

  The chief seemed to remember herself and snapped to attention. “Glad to hear you’ve been a law-abiding citizen, Ms. Hart. Carry on.” She strode, brisk and businesslike, to her office.

  Holly slumped in her seat, shaky after that confrontation.

  “Good one.” Millicent sat elegantly in the seat next to her. “Too bad Trent hasn’t told anyone you’re dating. No one here at the office seems to know. I wonder why.”

  Great. Just what Holly needed. Another run-in with Millicent.

  At first, Millicent didn’t say anything else, but Holly felt her cool gaze studying her, analyzing. She braced for the worst.

  “Now, don’t you look pretty all dolled up. I can see you’re already taking my advice, following my example. I’m used to it.” Millicent snapped her fingers. “What a brilliant idea! I’ll start a fashion column with tips. I could take questions. That will help lighten the mood of the paper with all this talk of murder.” She smiled sweetly. “And I could help out the women of Fairview that need help but are too shy to ask for help. Or who don’t even know they need it.”

  Holly gritted her teeth at the subtle slams. Millicent wasn’t a beetle. No, she was a snake, squirming, sneaky, slimy, conniving. Waiting for the right moment to strike with deadly venom.

  “That’s a wonderful idea. You’re a true saint,” Holly said, not looking at her.

  Millicent droned on, but Holly stopped listening. A woman with brown hair stood at the door of Trent’s office. She looked familiar. The name came to Holly quickly. It was Judy. Judy Schilling. The grieving wife. Except now, she looked more put together, the traces of smeared mascara gone. Holly couldn’t quite hear what they were saying.

  “Shh,” she said to Millicent.

  “Touchy.” Then Millicent kept talking about fashion just loud enough that Holly couldn’t hear what Judy was saying.

  She gripped Millicent’s arm. “Quiet.”

  Finally Millicent stopped talking. Right after, Judy said goodbye to Trent, said she’d be in touch, and then left. Holly had missed all of it. She watched Judy leave and wondered where she was off to. It was the perfect chance to follow her, unnoticed.

  “Too bad you have to resort to stalking people.” Millicent twirled her hair around her finger. “I’m scheduled for a personal interview with Officer Trinket. Get the scoop for the paper tomorrow before I add the final touches to my brilliant article.” She stood and winked at Holly. “I might or might not mention your presence this morning.”

  Holly silently scoffed. Didn’t matter. He already knew.

  Trent walked over to the two of them. “Good afternoon, ladies. Ready Millicent?”

  “Sure am.” She glanced back at Holly with a smirk.

  “Did you need something, Holly?” His face softened, less stern and definitely less angry than earlier at Charlene’s.

  “Um, I was just dropping these by.” Nervous, she shoved the tin into Trent’s hands.

  “Thanks.” He raised an eyebrow at her. Most likely questioning her intent.

  Awkward silence fell. Holly wanted to ask if their date was still on for tonight, but what if he wanted to cancel? What if he broke up with her? That would be humiliating. When she didn’t say anything, Millicent tugged on his arm, pulling him toward his office.

  At the door he stopped and turned. “We still on for tonight?” He offered a half-smile.

  “Definitely.” Relief rushed through her. Tonight, and all her big plans, would reveal whether they would continue dating or not. And she wouldn’t make one mention about the murder.

  Not a one.

  ***

  After leaving the station, Holly swung by the Fairview Inn and Restaurant. Dishes were pricey with small servings, but it was gourmet. That would be fancy and over-the-top. A little something to smooth over this morning and this afternoon. Keep Trent’s interest. Show that Holly was sorry. Sort of.

  Candles sat ready at her tiny kitchen table. She set out her best plates, even if they weren’t china, and kept the meal heating in the oven. Curry chicken. Asparagus with a lemon/butter sauce. Grilled potato wedges with spices. And breadsticks. The smell wafting from the oven made her stomach rumble.

  She sat at the table, wineglass in hand. Trent’s ready at his place at the table. Something felt off about all this. Was she trying too hard? Was she doing this all because of Millicent? What was she thinking?

  In her mind, she ran through supplies she had on hand. She could whip up baked chicken and a green salad. Even if the chicken turned out dry. There was always extra barbecue sauce.

  And her dress? She was wearing a blue slinky evening dress. Technically, there was nothing wrong with it. But...

  As soon as she stood to make the big switch, Trent knocked on the door. She closed her eyes and gulped. “Coming.” With trembling hands, she poured Trent a glass of wine and brought it to the door.

  She opened it the same time he did and it jarred her arm. Wine spilled onto her arm. She laughed. He laughed. Both sounded a little fake and forced.

  “Here you go.” She offered him a glass. Her breath hitched. He looked good. A little tired and worn down. His sandy hair was a bit mussed, but she loved it like that. All their past dates rushed back. Their friendship had developed over time as they talked about their likes and dislikes. Laughed together. Played together. Maybe she had nothing to worry about.

  “Thanks.” He accepted the glass and looked around. “Wow. All fancied up tonight, huh?” He looked down at his jeans and T-shi
rt. “Guess I’m underdressed.”

  “You’re just fine.” Holly headed back to her kitchen. “Why don’t you take a seat on the couch? Muffins will keep you company. Dinner will be ready in a jiffy.”

  Holly fussed over the presentation of the meal. Lighting the candles. Attempting to present the napkins in a fancy fold she’d watched on YouTube. Fifteen minutes later she called him over.

  At first, it went fine. She stayed on topics that had nothing to do with work or murder or mysteries of any kind. She stayed away from talking about that morning, the crime scene, or his mother. Instead she blabbed on about the coming festival. The rides she looked forward to. Nothing that spun in circles or flipped her upside down. Except for the Ferris wheel. That she could do. The fried dough and cotton candy. She talked about her booth and the baking competition.

  “Baking competition?” Trent cut into the chicken, which practically fell apart. “That’s new this year. Should be interesting.”

  “Hmm.” New this year? Of course. Millicent probably got the idea just to put The Tasty Bite and Just Cheesecake in a competitive situation. She probably had told all her friends and customers to show up and support them. If Holly didn’t enter the competition, she’d look bad. A coward. And Millicent would point that out in her daily article too.

  “Holly?”

  “What?”

  “I asked if you planned on entering.”

  Holly bit her lip. “I really don’t have a choice, but I have no idea what to enter.”

  “What about those cookies you dropped by? They were delicious. Thanks by the way.”

  “You had one?” Hope sprang in her chest. If he was mad, if he planned on breaking up, he might have just thrown them out.

  He looked at her funny with a puzzled expression. “Of course.”

  About halfway through dinner, Holly ran out of conversation topics. He tried a few half-hearted attempts, but Holly couldn’t think of a way to expand them into more than one or two-word answers. The new murder investigation and the fact that Trent’s anger and words for her to stay away sat between them, like a large, rotten egg. She wanted to talk about the clues, the suspects, and the victim, Gary Schilling.

  But she couldn’t. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t say a word.

  Their casual, comfortable, and easy relationship had turned awkward, tense, and uncomfortable. They needed to wrap it up and head to the town green for ice cream and the quartet she’d hired. The musicians should be there, warming up, waiting to perform.

  “Funny thing,” he said, chuckling. “Before leaving work, I checked out the fairgrounds, making sure everything was good. And, get this. Someone had hired a bunch of musicians for a date.”

  Holly stiffened. “What’s wrong with that? Sounds rather romantic to me.”

  “I guess.” He scoffed. “But a bunch of violins while the workers are setting up the rides? Kind of clashes.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s a good idea for someone who lacks confidence. True romance comes from the heart.”

  Holly deflated, her cheeks burning. A knowing look entered Trent’s eyes as he noticed her humiliation. He took in her dress, the fancy food, and it was his turn to be embarrassed. He stuttered and stammered a few words, but in the end, couldn’t complete a sentence. He knew he’d messed up.

  She couldn’t handle it anymore. Tears burned. Her chest burned. “You know what? Today has been exhausting. I should’ve cancelled our date earlier, but I’d already prepared the food. She didn’t care that she was lying. She didn’t care that he probably knew she was lying.

  “Are you sure?” Trent stood, looking like he needed a quick escape too. “I can help clean up.”

  She waved him off. “No, thanks. I’ve got it.”

  “Well, thanks for the wonderful meal. It was delicious after a tiring day.” For about the first time ever, Trent appeared uncomfortable, shifting back and forth on his feet, looking like he wanted to say something.

  Before he could say anything, Holly said, “You’d better go home and get to bed then. Good night.” She turned and walked back to the bedroom, avoiding the chance for an intimate kiss goodbye.

  Of course, Holly wasn’t tired at all once she cleaned up and fell onto her bed. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, feeling rather in the mood for a pity party.

  She didn’t even want to bake.

  Normally, during a murder investigation, Charlene would’ve popped by to chat up clues and suspects. Holly hadn’t heard from her since this morning.

  Highly unusual.

  Finally, Holly decided to take a walk. It wasn’t that late. Her date had ended early. With Muffins snoozing on his little bed, Holly still in her dress, she stepped outside. A light rain painted the road a dark gray. The heavy clouds rolled overhead, humidity building up. The makings of a thunderstorm.

  She stepped back inside, grabbed a light rain jacket, and walked down Main Street. Everyone was heading back to cars, closing up picnics and evening strolls. Holly lifted her face to the skies. The soft raindrops fell on her skin and dripped off her chin. She didn’t care. There was something cathartic about walking in the rain, not caring, not letting nature drive her indoors. Her heart lightened.

  Without realizing it, she ended up at the town green that was slowly looking like fairgrounds. A few of the rides had been trucked in, almost ready to spring to life. The popcorn and cotton candy stand was plopped right in the center of it all. She laughed. It did seem kind of silly to have a violin quartet surrounded by sweaty workers. She thought about buying an ice cream anyway, but then saw someone she recognized.

  Chip. Millicent’s date from the other night, but he also fit Charlene’s description of the man she hassled at the crime scene. Gruff appearance. Five o’clock shadow. Muscular build.

  Curious, she sat on the steps of the gazebo. If he had been at the crime scene—why?

  She studied him, observed, as he worked, talked. The workers welcomed the rain. He took a phone call and walked toward her but just out of reach of hearing. Holly crept through the wet grass, trying to listen. She caught the tail end of the conversation.

  “I took care of it. Just like you said. I expect to be paid.” Chip listened, his face turning into a frown as dark as the clouds overhead. “I’m not gonna take care of the next one until I see an increased bank account.”

  Holly couldn’t jump to conclusions. He could be talking about anything. It could be a complete coincidence that he was holding a heated conversation about money owed and taking care of it. It could be complete coincidence that he had possibly been at the crime scene this morning. He was an out-of-towner with no connection to the murder...unless this was the job he was talking about. Charlene had said the killer was probably at the scene. At the time, she had in mind family or a close friend playing the part, grieving at the loss of life.

  “What’re you doing?”

  The question caught Holly off guard. Chip studied her, suspicious, because she was standing in the middle of the green, getting soaked, in a fancy dress, close enough to eavesdrop.

  Maybe another time, when she was thinking clearly, she would have found a convenient answer and walked back home. But she was tired from the long day, discouraged at her failed date, and doubting her relationship with Trent.

  Instead, she said, “You guys work so hard. Thought you might want a drink.” The light rain was now running down her back. She shivered. “Get in out of the rain. I know you are paid, but it’s nice to get to know newcomers. Even if they’re here just for the festival.”

  His face relaxed. “Sure. Why not? The day’s over.”

  They walked to the nearby bar and grill. Holly laughed at her lame attempt to shake dry. Her hair was plastered to her head, makeup smeared. At this point, who cared?

  At the bar, she ordered a hard drink and bought him a beer. Holly rarely drank, but tonight, in honor of amateur sleuths everywhere, why not? The place was packed, everyone seeking shelter from the rain. She loved this place, the med
ieval-type feel, everything, the bar and the tables made from dark wood. Full of charm and character.

  “So what’s your name?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Chip.”

  “And...” She smiled. “Where you from?”

  “Maine. Been working this summer job for five years.” He guzzled about half his beer. “Good money.”

  But not enough. Because he had to take side jobs. They talked and joked until the last drop of her drink was gone. Feeling brave, she asked, “Do you ever have to take any side jobs? There probably isn’t enough time. Seems like a long day.”

  His back stiffened and he peered at her, his eyes dark and cold and suspicious. He took another pull of his beer. “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh. No reason. Just making conversation. We can talk about something else.” She spoke fast, the words shooting out.

  He stood, knocking his stool over. It hit the floor with a slam. Hushed whispers surrounded them as conversation stopped with the rising tension. “I get it. Here to check up on me? Make sure I’m doing my job.” He ran a calloused hand through his hair. “And they send a pretty woman? Smart. But I see right through it.” He took a step closer to her. He suddenly seemed bigger and broader than before.

  Holly sucked in a breath. “No, really. I don’t know...I mean...”

  “Excuse me. Is there a problem here?”

  It was Trent. He kept his eye on Chip and flashed his badge.

  “No, Sir.” Without a glance back, Chip walked out.

  Trent sat at the bar next to her and ordered a beer. Holly felt stupid, like she was caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She traced the grain of wood on the bar, her gaze flickering to Trent’s set jaw and the muscle that kept pulsing.

  Except she didn’t feel like explaining a thing.

  She didn’t owe him anything but a thank you for stepping in. Not that she couldn’t have handled Chip. A quick elbow to his nose would’ve told him not to mess with her. Who was she kidding? She was relieved that Trent showed up but didn’t want to admit it.