The Christmas Fair Killer

by Amy Patricia Meade

  ‘Ted’s not here.’ Frances’s face was puffy and red, but the shot of caffeine did much to restore a sense of calm to her demeanor.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I’ll just leave you to—’

  ‘No, please.’ Frances leaned forward in her seat. ‘Please stay, Tish. I feel as though I can confide in you. Our conversation yesterday helped me come to terms with what I needed to do.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘I needed to tell Ted how I felt about our relationship and how lonely and dissatisfied I’ve been. I also needed to tell Ted that I knew about Jenny and him, and about the things I’d done. I needed to be completely honest with him.’

  ‘You told him about your online bullying?’ Tish was stunned.

  ‘I did. I needed to come clean about it. There was no way either of us could move forward if I didn’t.’

  ‘How did he take it?’

  ‘Not well. I expected him to react poorly. I didn’t expect him to leave.’ She took a bite of egg-filled tortilla.

  ‘I’m sure it was just a knee-jerk reaction,’ Tish reassured her. ‘Do you know where he went?’

  ‘No.’ She washed the eggs down with a sip of coffee and dabbed at the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. ‘As much as I wanted to run after him and beg him to stay, I realized I’ve been chasing after him for years – not physically, perhaps, but emotionally. I’ve been waiting for Ted to be “present” and available and put time into our relationship. For years, I’ve asked him to join me for a visit to the museum or a lunch date or maybe to take some time off from his duties and hobbies to take a vacation. His answer has always been the same: he’s “too busy.” Too busy pursuing his interests and, more recently, a young woman, to spend time on his marriage. Meanwhile, I was pursuing him. Trying to pick the right combination of activities and words so that he might accept my invitation. Putting my own needs and desires aside while I waited for the day when he’d finally find the time.’

  Tish perched on the edge of the banquette and listened. The Fentons’ marriage was, as she’d told Reade, a case of two people drifting apart, but it didn’t make the scenario any less heartbreaking.

  Frances ate a bit more of her breakfast before speaking again. ‘It hasn’t been a healthy situation. I never realized until now just how damaging these few years have been. What I did to Jenny wasn’t normal. It wasn’t me. That’s not who I really am. I’m not excusing my behavior or blaming anyone else, but when so much of your life revolves around another person, the prospect of losing them makes you do … desperate things.’

  The tone of Frances’s voice made Tish wonder, once again, if she had, indeed, confessed all her wrongdoings. Would Ted have left Frances over online bullying? True, it was an odious, cowardly, and immature way to handle the situation. It was also true that Frances had spent the couple’s money on establishing some of her online aliases, but considering Ted was guilty of adultery – if only in his heart – his reaction to his wife’s transgressions seemed rather harsh. Or did he, too, question whether Frances was capable of something far more sinister?

  ‘I was in a dark place,’ Frances continued as if prompted by Tish’s thoughts. ‘A terribly dark place, and I’ll do everything within my power to ensure I never revisit it.’

  Tish exited the Fentons’ Winnebago and headed to Edie Harmes’s trailer. All the while, Frances’s words echoed in her head. Steeling herself against the cold and an ever-increasing, yet unidentifiable, sense of uneasiness, she knocked on the door and was relieved to be greeted by Edie’s smiling face. The seamstress was dressed in a resplendent red kimono and matching plush slippers, and her long brunette hair was pinned into a neat bun on top of her head. The look was a far cry from the previous morning’s ensemble of oversized shirt, socks, and unkempt locks.

  ‘Good morning,’ Edie greeted as she flung the door open wide.

  ‘Morning,’ Tish replied, happy to be free of the oppressive atmosphere of the Fentons’ Winnebago. ‘I have your Dante’s Inferno eggs.’

  ‘Two helpings, I hope.’ Edie grinned as Tish stepped into the neon-lit living room.

  ‘Two?’

  Rolly Rollinson, clad in a luxurious velour robe, appeared from the bedroom door and rubbed Edie’s shoulders. ‘Yes, Edie’s looking after me now.’

  ‘Looking after?’ a bewildered Tish questioned. Meanwhile, Edie flashed a beatific smile. ‘You’re engaged?’

  ‘We are. Finally.’

  ‘And you’ – Tish pointed at Rolly – ‘slept here?’

  ‘I did. It was ridiculous, really, staying away as I did. I finally got it when Ted Fenton came knocking at my door at midnight. He’s a good man, but he hasn’t been as attentive to Frances as he should have been. He’s taken his good fortune for granted.’ He glanced at Edie. ‘As I have. Waiting for the perfect moment to get married just meant one more day that we weren’t together. And that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?’

  ‘Rolly texted me a little after midnight and asked if he could come by,’ Edie added.

  ‘Fortunately, she was still awake, working on one of her designs.’ Rolly continued the narrative. ‘So, I came over and immediately dropped on one knee and proposed.’

  ‘And I immediately said yes.’

  ‘We’ll shop for a ring together over the Christmas holidays.’

  ‘A modest one,’ Edie inserted. ‘I told Rolly I don’t need flashy things. I just need him.’

  ‘That’s terrific news. Congratulations.’ Tish placed her insulated bag on Edie’s mid-century coffee table and retrieved the two foil containers bearing her interpretation of Eggs in Purgatory. ‘In honor of your special news, breakfast is on the house.’

  The couple accepted with a hearty round of thanks.

  ‘Do you have a date set?’ she asked as they tucked into their food.

  ‘No, it’s all been so spur-of-the-moment,’ Rolly explained and scarfed down a hunk of sourdough toast dunked into a golden-red combination of egg yolk and fiery tomato sauce. ‘We’ve only told a couple of people the news.’

  Edie had a better concept of a timeline. ‘Ideally, I’d love to get married early next year, but that all depends. I don’t want a big wedding. A lovely gown, some flowers, a visit to a justice of the peace, and then dinner with a few close friends and family suits me fine. I would, however’ – her voice dropped to a near-whisper – ‘prefer for this whole mess to be over before we send out invitations.’

  ‘Whole mess?’ Tish repeated.

  ‘Jenny’s death,’ Edie elucidated. ‘I didn’t much care for the girl, but it feels wrong to be planning a wedding when she hasn’t even had a proper burial.’

  Rolly voiced his opinion. ‘I don’t think there’s anything wrong in planning. I just wouldn’t get the address book out yet.’

  ‘But it just feels … tacky. And insensitive. Jenny’s not even cold yet and her killer is still on the loose.’ She turned her eyes toward Tish. ‘You live here. Do you have any idea when they might arrest someone?’

  Tish shook her head. ‘No. I just know Sheriff Reade and his team are doing all they can.’

  ‘I hope they hurry things up. Until this case is closed, I’m going to have a tough time relaxing. And I’m afraid wedding planning will have to wait, Rolly. Otherwise, people will think we’re celebrating Jenny’s death.’

  Rolly looked up from his breakfast long enough to snap back, ‘Well, it’s not as if they’d be completely wrong, is it?’

  Tish left the newly engaged couple to their breakfasts and talk of wedding plans, and meandered over to Rolly Rollinson’s trailer, where Ted Fenton had, by Rolly’s account, stayed the night. On her way, she spied Justin Dange and Lucinda LeComte walking, side by side, back to camp.

  ‘Morning,’ they greeted in unison.

  ‘Morning,’ Tish volleyed. ‘You two are out and about rather early.’

  ‘Yeah, I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep,’ Justin explained. ‘Then I looked over and saw a l
ight on in Lucinda’s trailer, so I called her up and asked if maybe we could not sleep together.’

  As Tish suppressed a grin, Lucinda gave a heavy groan.

  ‘That sounded a lot funnier in my head,’ Justin admitted.

  ‘Well, next time, keep it there,’ Lucinda joked. ‘Shall we go inside and have some breakfast?’

  ‘Normally I’d love to, but I promised to call my mother this morning,’ Justin pardoned himself. ‘She’s beside herself with this whole murder thing and I didn’t have a chance to call her yesterday to put her mind at ease. Rain check?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Lucinda agreed. ‘Thanks for the walk.’

  ‘Thank you. It really helped to clear my head.’

  ‘Good. I’ll see you on the boards later.’

  Justin took his breakfast sandwich and returned to his Travato as Tish followed Lucinda into the vintage Airstream.

  ‘Tea?’ Lucinda invited as she removed her emerald-green wool coat and rushed to the kitchenette to put the kettle on.

  ‘Sure. But just a quick one; I still have to deliver Ted’s breakfast and then I have a lot to do to get my booth ready for the day. It was in a bit of a shambles when I left last night.’ Tish reached into her bag and pulled out Lucinda’s customary egg-white sandwich.

  ‘So, did you hear?’ Lucinda asked. ‘There’s a wedding in the works.’

  ‘Yes, Rolly and Edie told me this morning.’

  ‘Edie texted me last night, right after it happened.’

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Oh, yeah. It’s about time Rolly “put a ring on it.” Edie’s good for him. I’m happy for them both.’

  ‘And your lack of sleep this morning?’

  ‘Hormones,’ she dismissed and smoothed her ivory cable-knit tunic sweater over her hips.

  Tish folded her arms across her chest and raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  ‘Oh, all right,’ Lucinda sighed. ‘It’s the holidays. The end of another year. I don’t know about you, but my mind tends to wander. I don’t mind being alone at Christmas. I enjoy going back to my quiet apartment after a busy season. It overlooks the James River and I catch up on my reading on a bench in the front living-room window. I pull out the silver table tree my mother used to put up when I was a kid and nosh on my favorite chocolates. Christmas Eve, I participate in a show at the local YMCA, and then on Christmas Day I meet up with some of my single friends for Prosecco and lobster. It’s a great time, but every now and then I see families lining up to see Santa and I grow a little misty.’

  ‘Memories of Christmas past?’ Tish asked. ‘Or ghosts of Christmases that might have been?’

  ‘Both.’ The teakettle began to whistle. Lucinda removed it from the heat, poured the contents into two mugs, and joined Tish at the dinette set. ‘I remember those carefree years when all we worried about was whether we were good enough for Santa to arrive and all we had to cry about was Christmas dinner being served before we could finish playing with all our new toys.’

  ‘And then falling asleep beneath the glow of the tree,’ Tish added, ‘our bellies full and our hearts content at the prospect of a week of unlimited playtime and sweet treats before us.’

  ‘Yes, every year I remember those things and pray that my child has known such simple pleasures.’

  ‘That she’s had a chance to revel in the innocence of youth,’ Tish paraphrased.

  ‘Exactly. And, every year, I assure myself that she has. That I made the right decision. This year, however, after meeting Jenny, I wonder.’

  ‘I have some news for you, Lucinda. Jenny wasn’t your daughter.’

  ‘She wasn’t?’ Lucinda seemed surprised, relieved, and disappointed all at once.

  ‘No, Jenny’s aunt came up from Baton Rouge to identify the body this morning.’

  ‘And was it …?’

  ‘Yes, Jenny was her niece. A niece who had, in her aunt’s words, “inherited her father’s dark good looks,” so she clearly wasn’t adopted.’

  Lucinda drew a long draft of tea. ‘Good God. Poor woman. How is she?’

  ‘I don’t know. Sheriff Reade is with her, so she’s in good hands, but still, it’s quite a blow.’

  Lucinda bit into her sandwich while Tish sipped her tea, both in silence.

  After several moments had elapsed, Lucinda sighed. ‘Jenny always struck me as being so tortured, so much in pain. I never knew why, but I started to think that perhaps, if she were Rolly’s and mine, she might have been angry that we …’

  ‘Gave her up for adoption? No, I have no idea why Jenny was the way she was, but that wasn’t it.’

  ‘But the birth certificate, the one that bore my name …’

  ‘The birth certificate was for a baby girl adopted by a family in Pensacola, Florida,’ Tish revealed.

  ‘Pensacola? Is she doing well? Is she healthy? Happy?’ Lucinda nearly leaped over the table.

  ‘I couldn’t say. I’ve never met her. Nor have the police.’

  ‘No, of course. I understand.’ Lucinda lowered her head and ate her sandwich.

  Tish was aware that Lucinda had to personally petition the court in order to obtain further details, such as the girl’s name, family name, and address, but she saw no harm in sharing the few details she had. ‘Look, all I know is that your daughter is home on break from a master’s program at Florida State University. But if you let on to anyone that I told you—’

  ‘Master’s program? She’s a–a genius?’ Lucinda’s face brightened as she rose from her seat at the dinette and twirled about the camper.

  ‘Possibly.’ Tish laughed. ‘Now, you have to promise you won’t tell a soul I told you that.’

  Lucinda sat back down and grasped Tish’s hands in hers. ‘You have my word.’

  ‘For any other information, you need to petition the courts to open the adoption records. The police and I can’t help you.’

  ‘I do understand. And I promise I won’t tell anyone what you’ve told me.’ She removed one hand to make the sign of a cross over her heart. ‘I swear.’

  ‘Good.’ Tish gave Lucinda’s hand a squeeze and went back to sipping her tea.

  ‘My mind and heart are more at ease than they’ve been for weeks, and it’s all thanks to you.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure it was all me.’ Tish gazed out of the window at the black Travato parked next door.

  ‘What? Justin? Oh’ – she waved her hand in the air – ‘I told you, we’re just good friends.’

  ‘Sounds like the perfect foundation for a romantic relationship, if you ask me. You help him through his grief, and he helps you confront your past. That is, if you choose to confront it.’

  Lucinda swallowed a bite of sandwich. ‘You mean, do I plan to contact the daughter I gave up?’

  ‘You seemed awfully curious.’

  ‘I am,’ she confessed. ‘But I’m not sure if I should. She has her life and is obviously successful. She doesn’t need the upheaval.’

  ‘She also may have felt the same way about you,’ Tish reasoned. ‘She may have wanted to find out who you were but didn’t want to dredge up the past. Especially if you’d moved on with another partner.’

  ‘Which is yet another reason not to get romantically involved with Justin. I’d feel as though I’d have to tell him about the baby.’ She frowned. ‘No, it simply wouldn’t work.’

  ‘I think you’re not giving Justin enough credit. If he was understanding enough to overlook Jenny’s flaws, he’d certainly be accepting of what occurred in your past.’

  ‘But he knows Rolly,’ Lucinda argued. ‘It’s different. And then, if I did tell Justin, would I have to tell Rolly? And what about Edie? They’re finally getting married. I’m not going to do anything to interfere with that.’

  ‘You have a lot to think about, and I’m not going to tell you what to do; just know that if you need to talk, I’m here,’ Tish offered.

  ‘Thanks, Tish. If I need to, I’ll definitely take you up on that. I’m not sure how much longer we�
��ll be staying now that the fair is ending. Although your sheriff seems determined to keep us here.’

  ‘Protocol,’ Tish explained.

  ‘Yes, I know. I’m just eager to get back to my apartment and my books and my silver tree.’ She gazed out of the window at the black Travato. ‘But I guess a few more days here wouldn’t be so bad.’

  ‘Ted? Breakfast,’ she called following a tap on the door of Rolly’s camper. Whether Ted would be in the mood for either breakfast or company remained to be seen.

  Standing back in case the door suddenly swung outward, Tish tucked her chin beneath the collar of her coat and patiently waited for a reply. Despite Jules’s predictions of a snow-free, mild weekend, the day promised to be even colder than the previous one.

  A scuffling noise came from inside the trailer and the door swung open. Ted Fenton, dressed in jeans and a wrinkled, untucked plaid cotton shirt he’d quite obviously slept in, welcomed Tish inside. ‘You must have seen Rolly.’

  ‘I did. I have your eggs and hash browns,’ Tish said softly.

  He ran a hand through his thinning, unkempt hair and sighed. ‘Not sure I’m very hungry.’

  ‘You should at least try,’ she urged. ‘It’s a cold one today. You’ll need some fuel to keep you warm out there on stage.’

  Ted capitulated with a nod of the head and sat down in Rolly’s velour recliner. Tish passed him his container of food, a napkin, and a fork.

  Ted left everything in his lap. ‘I, um, I suppose Frances told you what happened.’

  ‘About your argument? Yes, she told me.’

  ‘Then I assume she told you what she did to Jenny.’

  ‘She did,’ Tish admitted.

  ‘I just don’t understand. Frances has never been one to behave in that manner. She gets angry and lets loose, and then we talk it out and things are better. She’s never been one to brood and skulk, and she’s most definitely never been the type to torment someone.’