‘Words from an observer of the world?’
‘Words of personal experience. I wasn’t always seventy years old,’ she added with a wink. ‘And I wasn’t always married to the love of my life, God rest his soul. No, to find him I had to kiss a lot of toads. Sometimes I had to flee those toads as well, if you catch my meaning.’
‘I do and I’ll be sure to look into it,’ Reade promised.
‘Good man,’ Opal proclaimed. ‘Tish, my winter cabbage is nearly ready to harvest. Would you be interested in some for the café?’
Opal, an avid gardener who produced more vegetables than her single-person household could consume or pickle, often sold her excess produce to Tish.
‘Absolutely. I can add it to soups and stews, and a stuffed cabbage special would probably go over well,’ Tish replied.
‘Wonderful, I’ll bring some by the café late next week.’
‘Great. Let me know how much I owe you.’
‘Nothing. Except perhaps a vegan version of that stuffed cabbage.’
‘Consider it done.’
Opal leaned in to give Tish a hug before departing. Her Sherpa clothing and hair smelled of cigarette smoke and patchouli. ‘And maybe that photo on a book cover,’ she teased.
‘Nothing doin’.’ Tish laughed.
‘Still a nope from me,’ Reade rejoined.
‘That’s OK, darlings. I have a different photo I can use. I came across a doozy at the rifle demonstration the other day.’ Opal held her phone aloft for the pair to see.
The photo showed Ted Fenton posing with his finger on the trigger of an antique rifle. Standing at the end of the rifle, with her hands in the air pretending to plead with Ted not to shoot her, stood Jenny Inkpen.
‘Ted lied,’ Tish gasped. ‘He did get to see a demonstration.’
‘And he wasn’t alone, either,’ Reade added.
TWELVE
As the day’s first performance of A Christmas Carol drew to a close, Tish braced herself for the onslaught of hungry audience members and new fair arrivals, while readying herself for her next investigative assignment. Leaving Mary Jo, Jules, and Celestine to serve the first round of fairgoers, Tish supplied the theater company members with their lunches so that they could finish eating before the next curtain call, just a brief ninety minutes away.
Corralling the group behind the booth, Tish doled out their orders. ‘Ted. Chicken salad on white, no lettuce or tomato, coke, and a bag of chips,’ she called.
Ted Fenton retrieved his lunch to his wife’s jeers of ‘Boring. Boring!’ Seconds after claiming the brown paper bag of food, he was whisked away by Sheriff Reade.
Frances watched as her husband was escorted to the mobile crime unit. ‘Where’s your sheriff taking my husband?’ she demanded of Tish, who continued to hand out lunches. ‘Oh, what has that man done? What has he gotten himself into?’
‘I’m sure he’s fine,’ Lucinda reassured. ‘The sheriff probably wanted to double-check something in his statement.’
Frances continued to fret. ‘Oh, he’s done it now, hasn’t he?’
Tish intentionally held Frances’s lunch for last, dispensing it after the other cast members had wandered backstage for their break.
‘Done it? Done what?’ Tish asked as she handed Frances a bag containing the Ebenezer Scrooge meal and a bottle of water.
‘Killed Jenny,’ she sobbed. ‘He was infatuated with her. Her youth and beauty, the way she looked at him, how she smiled while he nattered on about guns or search engines or whatever entered his mind.’
Tish led Frances to her car, which was parked just a few yards away. ‘If Ted was infatuated with Jenny, why would he kill her?’
‘Because she rejected him.’
Tish opened the passenger door and gestured Frances to enter. ‘It’s warmer and more private.’
Frances nodded and shimmied her way into the passenger seat.
‘Jenny rejected your husband?’ Tish continued the conversation after sliding behind the driver’s wheel and shutting the door behind her.
‘Of course she did. She rejected all of them in the end, didn’t she? Justin. Bailey. They meant nothing to her. You think Ted would be any different?’ She began to sob again. ‘My dear, sweet, stupid, lovable, gullible Ted. How could he ever have thought that Jenny might fall in love with the likes of him?’
Tish passed a tissue and the bottle of water from the lunch bag to Frances, who accepted both eagerly. ‘But you fell in love with Ted.’
‘That was years ago, when we were both young and fearless and the world was full of opportunity.’
‘And now?’
‘We’re old, fat, balding, and life is flying by.’ She blew her nose into the tissue and wept. ‘But I still love Ted, even though we seem to be drifting farther apart by the day.’
‘I’m sorry, Frances.’
‘I am, too. Oh, the things I’ve done. My God … but I was just so angry.’
‘What did you do, Frances?’ Tish asked, albeit slightly fearful of the answer.
‘I tried to make Jenny’s life miserable, so she’d leave the group. Leave Williamsburg. Leave Ted to me. I had no idea things would end this way.’
‘How did you make her life miserable?’
‘Any way I could I think of while still remaining anonymous. I stuffed our comments box full of negative remarks about Jenny’s performances. I left online reviews of our shows stating how much better the group was before Jenny signed on. I harassed her on social media. I even sent Rolly a few emails and letters complaining about how the quality of the performances had gone downhill. I always used assumed names, different handwriting, and different email accounts so I couldn’t be tracked.’
‘You put a lot of time and effort into your—’
‘Campaign?’ She flashed a cutting smile. ‘It’s not like I had anything else to do with my time. Ted was always going to gun shows or re-enactments or working on the group’s marketing. So, in the evenings, when Ted would hop on his computer to create a new poster or a post on Facebook, I’d get on my laptop and trash Jenny. He thought I was playing games and looking at costume ideas and recipes on Pinterest, but all the while I was pushing for Jenny’s departure. It was a lot of work, though. I loved it when other people would join in on one of my posts because it meant I could sit back and take it easy for a little while.’
‘Did Jenny find out what you were doing?’
‘No, I don’t think so. If she had, she’d have said something. I was also very careful. It made me feel empowered, being able to fool her. I’d see her swan about the stage or the campground and laugh to myself … thing is, now that Jenny’s gone, I realize how stupid I was. I thought if I could get Jenny out of the group and out of our lives, things between Ted and me would improve. I thought he’d become more attentive, more spontaneous. I was silly enough to think we’d enter a second-honeymoon phase. But she’s gone and it’s the same as it ever was. Yet somehow emptier.’
Tish passed Frances another tissue and then her salad. ‘Here. You should probably eat something before you take to the stage again.’
‘What? No one grieves over salad,’ Frances dismissed.
‘No, I suppose you’re right.’ She retrieved the wedges of Stilton and Brie from the bag and spread each of them on a half of warm baguette.
‘That’s more like it,’ the actress approved, eating heartily between sniffs. The food and water both calmed her considerably. ‘Thank you, Tish.’
‘I didn’t do anything but give you your lunch.’
‘No, you listened. And you’ve been kind.’
‘That’s nothing,’ Tish dismissed, feeling horrible for imposing on the Fentons’ private domestic drama.
‘No, it isn’t. I’ve been feeling very much alone these past few years. I’m friends with the gals in the group, but when your husband is also a member, you can’t really tell them anything for fear of people taking sides. It’s been good to talk to an objective party.’
&nb
sp; ‘I think we’ve all felt alone from time to time.’
Frances ate more Brie, her gaze fixed upon some indeterminate spot in the distance. ‘I was so afraid of losing Ted that part of me just cracked, I guess. When I think of everything I did … the times I’d sneak into the bathroom of our RV to scribble comments on our feedback forms, each in a different hand. And online, all the different accounts and passwords. I actually spent money on a program that would remember all my passwords. Can you believe it? I must have been insane. Obsessed. Just as Ted was obsessed with Jenny, I became obsessed with her, too. I wanted her gone. I even wished her dead, and now she is dead. Oh, God.’ She broke down again.
Tish placed a consoling arm on the woman’s shoulder and tried to calm her. ‘Frances, do you honestly think Ted murdered Jenny?’
‘I don’t know for certain, but I’m afraid he might have, yes.’
‘Because Jenny was using him?’
‘Precisely. Ted appears quite calm and cool and almost bland at times, with his plain food and clothes, but he loves intensely. Finding out that Jenny was stringing him along to get her face on a billboard might have driven him over the edge.’
‘But Ted would need proof that Jenny’s intentions weren’t sincere. As far as I can tell, she never let on that they might not be.’
‘Oh, but she did.’ Frances’s lips curled into a Cheshire cat-like grin. ‘Ted saw Jenny kiss Bailey Cassels and then invite him into her trailer the night she died.’
‘How do you know?’
Frances looked Tish straight in the eye. ‘Because I saw her, too.’
Reade escorted Ted Fenton to the sheriff’s department trailer and ushered him inside. Once there, Reade directed the actor to be seated in one of two tubular metal chairs positioned on either side of the Formica-topped table currently serving as both Reade’s desk and break area. Tellingly, Ted chose the chair nearest to the door.
Reade offered Fenton a cup of coffee, which the actor declined, citing the coke in his lunch bag. ‘Feel free to eat your lunch, if you like. We’ll try to have you back on stage for the next performance.’
Ted eyed Reade dubiously, but eventually popped open the bag of chips and ate one. Reade, meanwhile, emptied a cup of coffee from the automatic drip maker into his mug and added milk. Allowing a suspect to eat during questioning wasn’t standard protocol, but since Tish had been so successful in leveraging information with food, he thought he might as well give it a try himself.
‘Ms Tarragon makes some great stuff, huh?’ Reade nodded toward the sandwich Ted Fenton was unwrapping.
‘She does. She’s also been very accommodating to my fussy eating habits.’ Ted nervously tucked into his chicken salad sandwich.
‘She aims to please.’ Finding the small talk a bit awkward, Reade cleared his throat. ‘I brought you here to let you know we found your text messages to Jenny Inkpen.’
Ted Fenton sighed. ‘I was afraid you might.’
‘Then why not tell us about them in the first place?’
‘I was hoping you’d think they didn’t matter. There were no threats in them. Simply positive messages to encourage Jenny to keep up the good work. She was a talented actress, you know.’
‘“Positive messages.” That’s all they were?’
‘Yes, you read them.’ Ted nibbled the corners of his sandwich.
‘Did your wife know about them?’
Fenton swallowed. Hard. ‘Frances? Um, well, no.’
‘Why not?’
‘Jenny was an attractive young woman. Frances wouldn’t have understood our relationship. She can be jealous at times.’
‘I’m pretty open-minded. Why don’t you tell me about your relationship with Jenny?’
Ted Fenton set his sandwich aside. ‘To start with, I want it to be put on the record that I’ve been faithful to my wife our entire marriage. I’ve never broken that vow.’
‘That’s a relief,’ Reade quipped.
‘Doubt me if you will, but I started talking to Jenny because I felt badly for her. She didn’t seem to have anyone to talk to other than Justin, and they’d broken up soon after Jenny joined, so I thought that might be awkward. I love our group, but they can be a bit catty at times. So I approached her and told her that if she had any questions about her work, the performances we were putting on, or even Rolly, I was happy to help.’
‘Did she take you up on your offer?’
‘No, she was shy, withdrawn.’
‘But you texted her anyway?’
‘It wasn’t like that. Rolly insists that cast and crew members exchange cell numbers, so that if any one if us is running late or gets sick, we can notify each other immediately. As Jenny had just joined the group, we were all provided with her number. One day during rehearsals, Frances and Edie were being particularly mean, standing off in a corner giggling while she was on stage. It seemed to be affecting Jenny negatively, so I texted her a note of encouragement to help her along.’
‘She didn’t reply,’ Reade noted.
‘Not by text, no, but she approached me afterward, when no one was looking, and thanked me. She told me she had no friends or family to speak of and that she appreciated my kindness.’
‘So you continued to send her text messages.’
‘Well, I really couldn’t be seen approaching her, could I? If Jenny were to approach me and start talking, that was one thing, but if I were to seek Jenny out after rehearsal or a performance, Frances would have given me hell. Texting was the only way to drum up a conversation, to check in and see how Jenny was doing.’
‘These “conversations” – did they turn into anything more?’
‘Sometimes we’d take a walk together, so that we could talk where we were unseen.’
‘And all you did was talk?’
‘Yes. I did grow to care for Jenny, but I never acted on my feelings. I’m older, married, and I was raised to be a gentleman. I was also afraid how Jenny might respond if I did act. I felt that she cared for me too, but I wasn’t one hundred percent positive.’
‘So you were never intimate with the deceased?’
‘Never. We hadn’t even kissed. I just enjoyed being with her. She was young and beautiful. She listened to my battle re-enactment stories and even asked questions. She was interested in what I did for the theater group in a marketing capacity. She thought she should learn every part of show business, which, of course, I encouraged. It was during one of our marketing talks that I decided that Jenny should be the “face” of Williamsburg Theater.’
‘And she liked the idea?’
‘She loved it. Thought it would open us up to a new audience, which it did. I also think she enjoyed being photographed in some of her more glamorous costumes.’
‘Even though you described her as shy and withdrawn?’
‘Yes, acting allowed Jenny to come out of her shell. It gave her a chance to be someone else for a little while. Almost like a little girl playing dress-up, except that Jenny wasn’t a little girl. She was an extremely talented actress.’
‘So, this photo …’ Reade opened Opal’s photograph on his iPad and showed it to Ted. ‘Care to tell me what’s going on?’
‘We were just goofing off after our dress rehearsal on Thursday.’ Ted shrugged, but it was clear from his face that he took the matter far more seriously than he let on.
‘With the same type of rifle that killed Jenny just hours later.’
‘I’m a gun and military history aficionado, Sheriff. I couldn’t resist seeing a demonstration.’
And yet Ted Fenton had claimed he had no inkling such a demonstration was occurring at the fair, according to what he had told Tish. Reade, however, could not call out Fenton on the issue without revealing the identity of his informant.
‘When I asked you about your movements the day of the murder, you never mentioned the demonstration.’
‘I told you, I didn’t want my wife to find out about my relationship with Jenny.’
‘The relationsh
ip where all you did was “talk”?’ Reade scoffed.
‘Are you married, Sheriff?’ Fenton challenged.
‘No, I’m not.’ Reade braced himself and listened to the same “If you’re not married, you don’t understand women” argument presented to him by his married friends, bandmates, and coworkers. Reade readily admitted that he would never win an award for his long-term relationship skills, but he was savvy enough to realize that if one were blessed with the presence of a really good woman in one’s life – a woman like Tish Tarragon, for instance – one shouldn’t risk losing her affection by entering a texting ‘friendship’ with a twenty-two-year-old girl.
But perhaps that was the difference between the two men. Ted Fenton clearly was no longer in love with his wife, whereas Clemson Reade found himself completely beguiled by the blonde caterer.
The sheriff ignored Ted Fenton’s insights on marriage and the feminine psyche and continued his investigation. ‘During this demonstration, did you also happen to learn where the rifles were stored?’
Fenton remained silent.
‘You do realize I can ask the re-enactors, don’t you? It would reflect better upon you if you told me yourself,’ Reade urged.
‘OK, yes, I did. When the demonstration was over, I left Jenny to wander the fairgrounds while I returned to the campground. The two of us returning together would have raised some eyebrows. As I cut across the baseball field, I saw the quartermaster stocking the rifles in a shed. Seeing an opportunity to talk guns again, I stopped and lent him a hand.’
‘And got a good look at the shed lock in the process.’
‘I get where you’re going with this, but I had absolutely no reason to murder Jenny.’
‘No? So you still “cared for her” on the night of her death? No arguments, no disagreements?’
‘I was with my wife and on stage all evening. There was no opportunity for Jenny and me to have a disagreement.’
‘What about Bailey Cassels?’
The Christmas Fair Killer Page 12
