“Time to go back to work,” Shirley said, gathering wrappers and brushing crumbs away. “But we’re about done. Carrie and I will have time to rest up for the big day tomorrow. The fair opens to the public at eight o’clock, and I’m told there will be crowds waiting to get in by then.
There were. Carrie was glad she’d practiced writing tickets and taking payment, because customers surged around Shirley’s quilts and Baby Cuddlys, and by 9:00, she had to begin filling empty spaces in the display while Shirley and Eleanor continued helping customers.
At 10:00 Shirley insisted it was Carrie’s turn to take a break, and she decided to join the crowds walking aisles in their tent, wanting to see what other exhibitors were selling. When she rounded a corner and looked up the next aisle she stopped cold, then apologized when two women cannoned into her backside. But, but . . . .
Edie? Dark, curly hair, yes, but that could be a wig. She hadn’t worn glasses at their house, but glasses could also be fake. The scarf tied casually over her beige sweater, however, couldn’t be mistaken. It was the one Carrie had given her, tied just as Carrie had shown.
It has to be Edie—or whatever her name really is. Well, I have a question or two to ask that woman.
But just then “that woman” glanced away from the exhibitor she was talking to, saw Carrie, and rushed down the aisle, blending quickly into the crowd. Carrie shoved through behind her, gathering several annoyed glances, but Edie had already disappeared.
Pretty easy to do, when there are hundreds of people to hide among. But that proves I did really see the so-called cousin who came to my house! Well, RATS!
Carrie turned around and went back to the man Edie had been talking with. His booth featured beautifully made wooden toys and, once more, Carrie wished she had a grandchild to buy these treasures for. Still, Henry might get a kick out of that little police car. She took out her billfold, and when the craftsman approached, handed him the car and her cash. “I thought I recognized the woman you were just talking to,” she said, as he wrapped her purchase in newspaper. “The one with the rust-colored scarf? Wasn’t that Edith Embler?”
He stared at her, and, for a moment she thought the look on his face was fear. Surely I am mistaken about that.
After too much hesitation for a normal conversation, he said, “She paid cash, I don’t know what her name was, and that would be private knowledge anyway.” He handed Carrie her change and her package, then turned away to help his next customer.
Hmmm. Well, what now? Should I try to question him later? That conversation they were holding did not look like sales talk. Too intense by far.
Carrie hurried out into the open space in front of the tents and took out her cell phone to call Henry.
“Eleanor’s Flower Garden,” he said, “Henry speaking.”
“Henry, I just saw Edie.”
“Edie? Where? There?”
“Yes, talking to a guy with a booth in our tent. But she hurried away when she saw me, and I can’t find her among all these people. Are you very busy? Could you come and look for her while I go back to work?
“Carrie, love, would that really be sensible? It will take me at least an hour to get there, especially with all the fair-going traffic. If Cousin Edie really wants to hide from you, all she has to do is get in her car and drive off.”
“Oh gosh, of course you’re right. But I’m so frustrated. I just . . . well, drat, drat, drat! Of all the confusing, messy . . . I wish I’d never heard of Edith Embler!”
“Cara, just forget about her now, and go back to work. Are things selling well?”
“You bet. I don’t know if we’ll have enough quilts to last the four days. It’s going to be slim pickins by Sunday. Same with the Teddy bears. Shirley is a whirlwind, and mighty happy. I’ve never seen her so excited.”
“Then you’d best go back and help keep her tied to the ground.” He stopped talking for a moment, then continued, “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I really don’t think me being there would accomplish anything, and we are fairly busy here in the shop. People coming to the area for the fairs spread out into related businesses all over the place. We’re selling a lot of artificial plants in those antique containers Eleanor bought when we were in Van Buren. You might tell her that.”
“I will, and me wanting you to come here was silly. See you around 6:30—Oh, WAIT, Henry. The man Edie was talking to just left our tent. He’s hurrying, almost running, going toward the field where exhibitors park their cars, trucks, and RV’s. Hold on, I’m following him.”
“Carrie, NO,” the phone shouted at her.
“It’s okay, I’m far behind him, and the parking lot is sort of on a hillside, so I can see pretty easily from a distance.”
“Carrie, this is not your concern! Shirley needs you. Go back to her booth.”
“Come to think of it, that vendor was alone when I saw him. I wonder if anyone is watching his booth.”
“Carrie!” The phone was beginning to sound alarmed. “Oh, okay, I’m standing still. He’s just gone into an RV. Don’t you think I should watch to see if he comes out soon, or maybe Edie shows up there?”
“No, I do not think that. Please listen to me.”
“Okay, okay. I’m going back to Shirley and Eleanor right this minute. I’ll see you around 6:30.”
“Cara, remember, this is not your concern. Cousin Edie is not our concern.”
“Yes, I know. I’m walking back to Shirley’s booth.” She hesitated, then said, “I love you. Thanks for caring about me.”
“You know I really do, and I’ve got to hang up. Two women just came in the shop and Jason’s busy with people already here. See you at home.” The phone went dead.
After one more glance at the RV, Carrie headed back toward Critter Quilts and Baby Cuddlys. But she changed course long enough to learn that no one was minding the wooden toys.
Chapter Six
MILTON SALES
During her mid-afternoon break Carrie walked around to check on the wooden toy booth. No one was working there. She turned to the man next door, admired his bird feeders and houses, then asked, “Has the guy who makes these wooden toys come back?”
“Yeah, he’s been in and out. I watch his things best I can when he’s gone, but he takes his money box with him so I can’t sell anything. You know Milton?”
“Uh, he’s a friend of my cousin’s but I don’t know him myself. I did see him go to one of the RV’s in the parking lot mid-morning.”
“It’s his RV. I don’t think he’s feeling too good. We’ve known each other, let’s see, twelve years now, because we’ve had booths next to each other that long. He knows he can trust me to keep an eye on things if he steps out for a while, and Betty on the other side does too. The three of us have been working this fair side-by-side for a dozen years, and Betty’s been an exhibitor here for twenty-five. It’s too bad he isn’t here all the time, though. Lots of folks like those wooden toys and he’s missing sales.”
“You think he goes out to smoke?”
“Nah, doesn’t smoke. Milton’s kind of a queer duck, though. Other years he’s left his booth for a time, and I never knew why. I think he’s pretty restless.”
“Milton?”
“Milton Sales.” The man laughed, turned away to take money for a bird feeder and wrap it, then continued, “Milton Sales. Nice name for a salesman, right? He doesn’t seem to need the money he makes here, though. Close-mouthed about it, but I get the idea he retired early from some pretty high-flying job. That’s not to take away from the quality of what he shows here, as you can tell. I saw you earlier, buying one of his cars.”
The man stopped talking long enough to sell a birdhouse, then he asked her, “So, is your cousin at the fair? Milton’s not married, and . . .”
“She was here earlier—maybe you remember a lady wearing a rust-colored scarf talking to him.”
“Oh yes, I think I remember. Well, tell her maybe she should go to the RV and check on Milton, if she k
nows him well enough to do that.”
“I’ll tell her when I see her. If he comes back, you might ask him to come say hello to me—to ease my mind, you know. I’m helping out in the booth selling baby quilts, fourth from the front in the next row.”
“Okay. Take care now.” He went back to helping customers.
Milton Sales hadn’t shown up to say hello by 5:00, so Carrie hurried around to his booth while Eleanor and Shirley were starting to close down. “Milton ever come back?” she asked the birdhouse man.
“Yeah, he was here for a couple of hours, but left a few minutes before 5:00. Said he didn’t have time to go see you.”
“I just wanted to be sure he was okay,” Carrie said. “Thanks.” She walked back to the quilt booth and helped Eleanor cover the displays while Shirley put lids on boxes of extra merchandise. Time to forget about Milton Sales. He was okay, that was enough.
And, after all, Henry had insisted none of this was their concern.
The three women left everything except money and receipts for sales under the watchful eyes of night guards and pulled out of the parking lot at 5:40. Since Eleanor was driving, Carrie phoned Henry as soon as they reached the highway. “Have any ideas for supper?” she said, “With rush hour traffic, I won’t be home until at least 6:45.”
“Already got the left-over stew on the stove.”
“Ah, Good. There’s a corn bread mix in the pantry. You might bake that. And I made a new bowl of fruit gelatin last night, strawberry this time.
“Great! When I hear Eleanor’s car, I’ll put it all on the table. We can talk about your Edie-sighting and the rest of the day while we eat.”
“Looks like you’ve got company,” Eleanor said as soon as she turned down the lane to Carrie and Henry’s house.
“What? Good heavens!” Carrie peered out the van window.
“Wouldn’t have seen it so soon if the car wasn’t white and your post light wasn’t on. Know who it is?”
“I haven’t a clue.” Carrie said. But—oh, surely not.
As soon as she opened the door, Henry called to her. “Cara? Guess who’s come to dinner? Our cousin Edie.”
He sounded relaxed, not a worry in the world.
She headed for the kitchen and stared in astonishment at Edie, who was sitting at the kitchen table in her own regular place across from Henry. The wig and glasses were gone, as was the scarf. Well!
“Hello Carrie. I’ve apologized to Henry for running out on you guys last week. It couldn’t be helped, as I’ve explained to him. He’s been kind enough to invite me to have supper and stay the night, I hope that’s okay. I’ve told him why I disappeared, and I’ll tell you both what I might call ‘the rest of my story’ after we eat.”
Carrie only nodded, and Edie went on. “I mixed up the corn bread, by the way, and promised to clear away the dishes.”
After glancing at his silent wife, Henry went to slice cornbread and fill bowls with stew. Carrie stood absolutely still, staring out the window while she repeated to herself, She’s not our concern. She’s not our concern. And she’s sitting in my chair.
Edie said, “I’m sitting in your place, aren’t I? I’ll move around right now.” She shifted to a chair between Carrie and Henry’s usual locations as Henry put a bowl of stew in front of her. “Thanks, Henry, smells great. Hang up your coat, Carrie, and join us. You look dog tired, and, unless you’ve been snacking on fair goodies, I’d bet you’re starved.”
Still saying nothing, and fuming inwardly, Carrie went to wash her hands.
Supper, beyond polite conversation, was eaten quietly. At first Henry, chuckling frequently, talked about some of his amusing gardening experiences. He got little response from Carrie, and Edie, perhaps taking a clue from that, didn’t say much either, only nodding from time-to-time. He finally lapsed into silence.
Edie did indeed take over kitchen clean-up while Carrie went to check the guestroom and learned that Henry—maybe with Edie’s help—had already put fresh linens in the bathroom and on the bed.
When Henry didn’t follow her to their bedroom for a conversation, Carrie decided she would take a shower and get into her pajamas, while he did . . . whatever he was doing. Helping Cousin Edie clean up in the kitchen?
When she went down the hall a few minutes later, Edie was unpacking in the guestroom, and she found Henry sitting in his favorite chair, reading the paper. He looked up and, when she sat on the couch, moved over to sit beside her.
“When did she get here?” Carrie whispered.
“Came in just after you called. She’s explained her disappearance. Two men who sound like Agent Frost and his companion were at the motel when she arrived. For yet unknown reasons your cousin is aware someone, perhaps FBI, might be trying to find her.
“When she looked through the glass entry area of the motel and saw two men in dark suits at the desk, one of them holding out a leather pocket folder, she decided to go back to her car and wait. Eventually they came out and got back in their car. When they didn’t drive away, she used her cell phone to call the motel, saying she had an emergency and needed to cancel her reservation. They allowed that, and even sounded relieved, she thought, so that made her certain the men had been asking about her and they were glad to avoid potential trouble. Pretty soon someone came out of the motel lobby and went to the car to talk with the men. After that they drove off.
“Edie went to another motel and registered under a similar, but false name, paying cash. She figured, probably correctly, that the men had the ability to check motel registrations. When the desk clerk asked for identification, she flashed her driver’s license, and they glanced at her photo, but didn’t catch the different name. After I told her two men from the FBI had been here asking for her, she agreed the best thing, at least for tonight, was for her to stay here.”
“Why didn’t she let us know she’d had to change motels?”
“Not sure of our loyalties. Came here this evening as a last resort.”
“Oh, for gosh sake. And what if those men come back? Are we now hiding her?”
“I hope we don’t have to deal with that before tomorrow morning, if at all.”
“None of us will be here tomorrow.”
“Exactly. I thought Edie could go to the shop with me, if nothing else works out.”
“Go where?” Edie said, as she walked into the room.
After Henry explained, Carrie asked, “How do you know Milton Sales?”
“Ah.”
“I suggest you bring us fully into the picture right now,” Henry said. “We are sheltering you, and have a right to know what’s really behind your visit here.”
Since she hadn’t told him about the afternoon’s events, and he hadn’t yet heard the name Milton Sales, Carrie was surprised and pleased when Henry picked up on her train of thought immediately. His manner remained friendly, but there was steel behind the request for information. She wondered if Edie understood that steel. Henry, when he took on his cop manner, could be intimidating. He wasn’t quite there yet, but might be very quickly.
Did anything intimidate Cousin Edie? Carrie hoped so, because this whole situation was unsettling, if not scary, and Edie had involved them more deeply the minute she returned to their home this evening.
Probably all this evening’s friendly behavior from Henry was by intent, getting Edie to let her guard down. Is she frightened of those two men? Of Milton Sales? Of something or someone else?
Carrie settled comfortably against Henry’s side and awaited Edie’s response.
Chapter Seven
LEARNING MORE
Edie sat in Henry’s favorite chair and, head down, she was silent for a long minute before she said, “Milton Sales was a much younger colleague of my father’s.”
When she said no more, Carrie prodded. “So you knew him years ago?”
“No. I didn’t know him. But, back when Daddy disappeared and Mother and I were asking a lot of questions at his office about what might have happen
ed, a woman there mentioned the name, and said she thought he had been working with Daddy at the time he disappeared. The three of us were alone when she said that, and after someone walked in the room, she quit talking. No one else acknowledged knowing anything about Daddy’s colleagues, and we never located Milton Sales. But I didn’t forget his name.”
Henry asked, “Where did your father work?”
“It was called ‘Torrance Export-Import,’ but I have always thought the name was a cover for something else.”
“What made you think that?”
“Doesn’t export-import indicate the business is dealing with products; something coming and going? Toys, art, antiques, machine parts, whatever? Surely there would be some evidence of things to be sold. The office had a warehouse attached, and the warehouse had boxes. I managed to trip over one once, and I’m sure it was empty. Daddy never, ever, mentioned any kind of merchandise, and never brought samples home. He had no sales books or catalogues. After he died we were given all the stuff from his desk, or at least all they wanted us to have. Nothing there about exporting or importing. ”
Carrie said, “You obviously learned more about Milton Sales later.”
Edie nodded. “I did. Last winter, when I realized how badly Mother wanted closure for Daddy’s disappearance, I tried to find that office. Not even the building was still there, and I didn’t find the business name in the phone book or online. Then I phoned every export-import company I could locate.” She snorted an attempt at a laugh. “Believe me, there were a lot of them. No one had ever heard of the Torrance Company. A woman in one company, however, did recognize the name Milton Sales. She said he was a sales manager with their firm for around twenty years, but had taken early retirement at least a dozen years earlier. He told her he was moving to Arkansas because he’d found a place he could sell the wooden toys and other products he had enjoyed creating as a hobby.
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