A Fair to Die For

by Radine Trees Nehring

  Carefully, she stood, leaning heavily on her stick. Then she thought back through the last horrible moments before Second Man fired his gun into the forest floor. Which way had they come? She stared at the place where she’d been lying. Yes, she was sure she’d fallen facing away from the road, so that meant the road was . . . over there. Carrie started walking, picking her way carefully over debris on the forest floor.

  Henry was keeping busy in the kitchen. Working here helped keep the “what-ifs” at bay. If he thought about Carrie and “what-if,” he came close to losing control of any and all his emotions. How did other people cope? How had crime victims and waiting families he’d dealt with in Kansas City managed to live with anything like what he was feeling? He’d seen the jitters, the rages, the crying, the terrified and sad and hopeful faces. He’d never been to that edge himself. Until now.

  Henry pulled the kitchen table away from the wall so there would be room for two more chairs, and began putting out plates and silverware.

  Drinks. Should he make iced tea? Roger and Shirley would drink coffee; he and Carrie usually drank water with supper. As he recalled, Edie drank water with all meals except breakfast, so he wouldn’t bother asking her about a preference.

  She was busy straightening up in the guestroom. He’d helped her put mattresses back on the twin beds and drawers back in the chest, then showed her the linen closet and left her to put clean sheets on the beds and return her possessions to wherever they’d been before the search.

  Detectives, who had come promptly after Olinda’s call, uncovered no evidence of any outside presence in the room other than the mess itself, and Edie hadn’t found anything missing. So, what were searchers looking for?

  Arnie and Co. had undoubtedly worn gloves inside the house, and hadn’t, insofar as anyone could discover, left other identifiable evidence of their presence. The banana peel with a smear of blood on it had fingerprints—probably Carrie’s. The other had none. The water glass displayed the same prints as the one banana, and the detectives had taken both peelings and glass with them.

  So, that was it. All evidence of criminal activity inside their home depended on Carrie’s eventual testimony.

  Olinda, who’d been doing a walk-around search outside the house, came in the kitchen and, when he looked up, shook her head. “Not even a tire track. Too dry.”

  “I guess I expected that. Do you want iced tea with supper?”

  “Water’s fine.”

  She sat at the table and watched him take celery, carrots, a turnip, and a cucumber out of the refrigerator. “Making raw veggie sticks? Good idea. Can I help with that?”

  He sighed. “Thanks, but no. Gives me something to do.”

  “Ah, yes.” After a pause, she said, “So tell me about the Booths. I’ve not met him yet, but she sure seems a sharp cookie. According to Edie, she nailed Milton Sales’s true involvement in all this before we did. It’s almost like she has second sight.”

  He chuckled as he began peeling a turnip. “Typical Shirley. She is sharp, especially when it comes to anything related to human nature; and she’s not afraid to speak her mind. It can be ticklish if she uncovers some supposed secret a bit too close to home, but you soon get used to that, and what she says is never really harmful. She and Roger are good and valuable friends of ours. Shirley has saved Carrie’s bacon more than once.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “Well, the first time was right after Carrie and I met. A friend of ours had been murdered near here in Walden Valley, and . . . ”

  The logging road hadn’t been hard to find, but her strength was waning, her shoes weren’t meant for heavy walking, and increasing shadows made it difficult to see hazards. Recent rains had uncovered rocks and left ruts in many places, and she had to watch carefully to avoid them.

  At last she reached the valley road and paused to rest, leaning heavily on the tree branch. She wished she dared sit down somewhere for a few minutes, but darkness had begun closing in. She had to keep moving, she had to let Henry know she was okay.

  She began walking again, chanting to herself, Left, right, left, right.

  No, she had that backwards. She was leading with her right foot. She stopped, lifted her left foot, and started again, Left, right, left.

  She knew she wouldn’t have enough strength to make it up the hill to their home. Besides, who would be there? Edie? Maybe even Milton Sales or Inspector Burke, waiting to interview her. Who could she trust with the information that she was still alive?

  Left, right. At least this road had been graded recently.

  It was getting darker. Step, step, step, step. Keep moving, left, right.

  She was shaking with cold as she trudged past the Booth’s pastures, and saw, at last, bright lights shining through the windows of their milking parlor. Roger’s truck was parked by the side door. So probably Roger and Shirley were taking the milking duty tonight.

  Left, right, left, right. She was moving more quickly now, drawn by that beacon of light.

  She stopped by the farm gate, hovering in the shadows while she studied the landscape for possible dangers.

  She didn’t see Junior’s truck, so he’d already left for his rented house up on the ridge. There was no sign of the hired man’s car either, but Shirley’s Cadillac was parked beside the house. So Henry, and probably Edie, had come back from the mill, left Shirley’s car, and picked up Henry’s truck..

  Carrie opened the gate, stumbled, then steadied herself and headed toward light and warmth.

  Henry looked at the kitchen clock. 6:35. The phone hadn’t rung. It hadn’t rung to bring news of Carrie, and it hadn’t rung to tell him Roger and Shirley were going to be late.

  Roger and Shirley were never late. In fact, they were usually painfully early, arriving before you were quite ready for company. So, where . . .

  The phone rang.

  “Yes.” He’d said it too loudly.

  “Something has come up.” It was Shirley.

  “Yes?” Did he sound as frenzied as he felt?

  “Everything’s okay, but could you come down to pick up your dinner? Come alone, and don’t let on to the girls that anything might be unusual. Tell them we have to stay here because one of our cows is having twins. Okay? Keeping a stone face is important, very important, but everything is fine now. You got that? Everything is fine. See you in a few minutes.”

  He licked his lips, and turned toward Edie and Olinda. “News?” Olinda said.

  “Not really, I just need to go and pick up our dinner. One of the Booth’s cows is having twins and they need to stay with her. I’ll hurry, I know we’re all hungry.”

  He got his jacket and headed for the garage, his head buzzing with hope that was based on nothing but Shirley’s confident statement, “Everything is fine now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  SECRETS TO SAVE A LIFE

  All of Henry’s conscious thoughts during his drive down into the valley were on Shirley’s four words, playing over and over, “Everything is fine now.”

  He stumbled up the Booth’s front steps and had just raised his hand to knock when Roger opened the door.

  “What?” was all Henry could manage.

  “Carrie’s here. She’s okay.”

  The room began to spin, and Henry barely made it to the nearest chair before his legs gave out. “I . . . how? Here?”

  Roger chuckled. “Here. The two men who had her all but brought her home. She was left in the woods off the old logging road. Walked here.”

  “Where is she?”

  Roger sobered. “In Junior’s old room, finishing supper. She’s had a rough time, Henry, and is kinda bruised and battered. She’ll tell you all about it later, not now, I think. She told us a bit, but the telling was hard on her. Two men drove her up there, one of them took her into the woods and was supposed to kill her, but he didn’t, or couldn’t. He shot into the ground, took off her handcuffs, then walked away. Thing is, she says he saved her life, so his life
is in her hands now. If they find out he didn’t kill her, he’s dead himself. He trusts her to stay hidden until he can get away, maybe even out of the country. So we thought we’d keep her here for a while—at least until everything gets sorted out.”

  “Oh God, oh my God.”

  “Yes, you owe Him plenty of thanks. Come on back now. Shirley saw to it that Carrie had a hot bath, partly so she could look her over and see if she was hurt anywhere. She’s just finished supper now, and looks some better than she did when she got here. Shirley says there are bruises on her body, but her face is the worst. Get ready for that, and don’t let on.

  “We all know you can’t stay long. Those girls will expect you back up the hill with a picnic basket pretty darn soon. Carrie understands, and doesn’t expect you to stay.”

  “Why didn’t you call me right away?”

  Roger stopped and turned to face him. “Well now, our first care was for her. Sorry my friend, but it took a while to sort things out here, and Shirley was immediately mother-hening, seeing to a bath, finding pajamas for her, and so on. Guess we coulda called and said she was here and safe, but we didn’t know anything more than that, and we didn’t know what was going on up at your house. Carrie warned us first off that we weren’t to tell anyone but you she was alive and safe. We didn’t know why she said that; we didn’t know anything.” He repeated, “Our first care was for her.”

  “I’m sorry, Roger. It’s just that . . . ”

  He stopped when Roger put a hand on his arm and said, “Come on now, she’s waiting for you down the hall.”

  Henry couldn’t figure it out. Suddenly he felt as shy as a kid on his first date. She’s alive. She’s safe. But what will I say to her?

  Carrie was sitting at a desk with an empty plate in front of her. She did look battered, and in spite of Roger’s warning, Henry had to muster all his remembered policeman’s stoicism to suppress an exclamation. There were greenish bruises beginning to darken on her face, and her cheek was swollen. Shirley’s pajamas, rolled up at the bottom and sleeves, must hide other damage.

  She started to stand, but he hurried across the room and almost fell against her as he knelt by the desk chair.

  Neither of them said anything. He looked up at her and then, for the first time in memory, Henry King began to cry, while Carrie stroked her hand across his hair, over and over.

  After a couple of minutes Shirley said, “Well, this is sure some happy reunion, what with everybody getting all weepy. Gosh almighty, you’d think you two had been separated for weeks instead of a day. Come on, Henry, say a few nice words, kiss her goodnight, then go in the bathroom and put cold water on your face. You’ve seen she’s okay, and you’ve got two hungry mouths to feed waitin’ at home. Can’t be gone long.”

  Henry stood, said “Olinda came home with us, like a guard or something. She’ll be there all night.” Then he choked to a stop and turned away. When he turned back, he bent to kiss Carrie on top of her head, since he didn’t know if he dared touch her face.

  Carrie said, “Goodnight, Henry love. We’ll make plans tomorrow. I assume Roger explained how things stand. Right now I don’t know who we can trust with the knowledge that I’m alive and well. Who can keep the information to themselves and help save the man who saved me?

  “Therefore, we need to consult and make plans. Maybe you can tell Olinda and Edie you’ve got an already scheduled morning meeting with the mayor or police chief in town, or somebody really important, but you’ll have your cell phone with you. If any news comes in, they can call you. Don’t forget to show how worried you are.” She grinned. “Or at least you’d better be worried. If you can manage to get away in the morning, drive down here.

  “I could use some fresh clothing. Put clean jeans, several pair of underpants, a bra, socks, the blue sweatshirt, matching turtleneck and jacket, and my flannel nightgown in a sack, and bring them with you. I keep basic make-up supplies in the travel case in my closet, so please bring that, too. Since your truck will be in the garage, they won’t see you put that stuff in it. If there’s a hitch, just call here in the morning and say you can’t make whatever meeting you’ve told them you were scheduled for.

  “Sorry you can’t stay, but, as you can see, there’s only a twin bed.” She laughed, and blew him a kiss. “Oh, I forgot. Stick my wooly house slippers in the sack.”

  She stopped talking, but her wonderful teal-blue eyes said enough, and Henry was comforted. She really was going to be all right.

  He swallowed all comments and questions and walked out of the room after one last, long look at her. In less than five minutes he’d put the picnic basket on the seat beside him in the truck, and was headed back up the hill.

  “Here ‘tiz,” he said when he walked in the kitchen with the basket. He sat it down on the counter and let Olinda and Edie survey the contents, oohing and ahhing as they lifted out a plate with three pieces of apple pie, a large bowl of potato salad, and what looked like a complete fried chicken. The veggie sticks and drinks were already on the table, so they sat down to eat without wasting time.

  “Did you get to see the calves?” Edie asked.

  “No. They weren’t born yet.”

  “Maybe we’ll get to see them later. I hope so.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, thinking his own thoughts. He hoped his distraction would be put down to concern for Carrie.

  “Detective Burke called,” Olinda said. “It isn’t an expert opinion yet, but it seems increasingly clear that John Harley did not cut his own wrists. There were no trial cuts like one usually sees on a suicide, and both cuts were made from the inside out. Unusual, since the common way would be to slit one wrist, then change the razor to the other hand and cut the second, making the cuts initiate from the outside in each case.” She illustrated with her dinner knife, holding each wrist, palm up, in turn. “See. You have to do some almost impossibly awkward twisting if you cut from the inside out. Why would he do that? Also, there’s a mark on the back of his head, which may have been caused when he was put in the tub by someone.” She shook her head once, and looked down at her plate.

  “Hmmm,” Henry said, still thinking about Carrie.

  “I can tell you’re dead tired,” Olinda said. “You go on to bed as soon as we finish eating. Edie and I will clean up. Do you have a household alarm system that needs to be set?”

  “No alarm system,” he said.

  “Well, then be sure the doors and windows are secure before you go to your room, since Edie and I wouldn’t know where to check. We’ll leave the guestroom door open so we can hear any unusual noises during the night. Is there a phone in your bedroom?”

  “Yes, and in the guestroom.”

  “Good. If there’s any news, we’ll all hear the phone ring. You go on now. We’ll see you in the morning.

  “Oh, yes. We found cereal in the cupboard. We can have that for breakfast, don’t need anything fancy.”

  So, after checking the house and saying “goodnight,” he left them cleaning up in the kitchen, went into the master bedroom area, and shut the door.

  Henry awakened at 5:30, and realized with consternation that he had slept soundly through the night.

  He had expected to be awake, puzzling over what Carrie would reveal about yesterday’s events, and wondering if she truly had to play dead for some unknown amount of time. Sleeping soundly seemed disloyal to her.

  But then, he knew she was safe, and that had obviously been enough, no matter what tough times might still face them.

  Okay, new problem. How would he tackle the need to be away part of the morning? Would a fictitious meeting with someone important sound reasonable, when concern for his wife should be the most important thing? Maybe he could say he was going to talk with the police chief in town and bring him up to date on current events. Olinda, at least, knew city police wouldn’t normally be investigating out here in the county, but maybe his feeling that the nearest police force should be brought into the picture would sound convincin
g to her. On the other hand, would it sound so convincing she’d want to go with him?

  He sure wished he knew who could be trusted with information about Carrie.

  The phone rang. He slid to the side of the bed, reached out to pick up the receiver, and heard Edie’s voice, then Milton’s. Not wanting them to think he was listening in, he said a quick “Hello, see you got it, Edie,” and hung up.

  So Milton probably hadn’t spent the night in the county jail. It would be nice if he came and got Edie out of the way for the day, and Olinda went back to duty anywhere else but here. Might happen. Who knew?

  Then he came back to earth on the realization that Edie probably wasn’t safe yet. Going off alone with Milton would be the height of foolishness.

  Almost as foolish as going to the mill yesterday and not being alert to potential danger.

  He sighed. Time to tackle today.

  Olinda and Edie were finishing bowls of cereal when he walked into the kitchen. “Smells like you found the coffee,” he said. “Sorry, I forgot to get it out for you.”

  “No problem,” Olinda said, “by now we know the contents of your kitchen pretty well.” She was studying him as she continued, “I didn’t hear the phone during the night, so I guess you didn’t get any news about or from Carrie?”

  He shook his head, and remembered to look and act frantically concerned.

  Still studying his face, she went on, “I checked in at the department this morning, and none of the deputies had any updated information. I’m sorry.”

  “I didn’t get any news,” he said. “I didn’t make any calls out—didn’t know anyone to call who could help us beyond those already doing so, and you know the phone didn’t ring until Milton called this morning. Is he okay, Edie? I guess he didn’t end up in jail.”

  “No, though deputies did pretend to take him in for questioning yesterday. He said he plans to spend today talking to the organizers of the War Eagle Fair, and those who run other fairs as well. He wants to tell them about our updated suspicions. That hasn’t been done so far, partly because past investigations didn’t turn up any organizers who were involved in activities that seemed remotely suspicious. Besides, no one knew enough to warn them about specific individuals or types of crafts that might be suspect until Shirley discovered the contents of that pull-toy cow, and we realized John Harley could be hiding drugs in bird houses. Now, the idea is to enlist them to help us in the future.