The Skeleton Stuffs a Stocking

by Leigh Perry

  So rather than acting like an adult and bowing to the inevitable, I spent the next hour going through that back issue of the Gazette, trying to come up with something else that would have given Rose hope for a new sanctuary. But unless a last-minute sale at Building 19 had attracted her, there was nothing else there.

  By the time I went to bed, I no longer felt guilty about Sid doing all the investigative chores. Uncomfortable or not, I had to go talk to the Fentons.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sid had already found out that Fenton’s was providing rides for a zoo lights gig at the Atwood Zoo, which was about forty-five minutes away from Pennycross. Their being nearby wasn’t as big a coincidence as it sounded. Fenton’s was a small carnival and pretty much stuck to stands in and around our part of New England.

  To save time, I packed Sid’s skull, right hand, and cell phone into the sugar skull bag the next morning and carried him to work with me. If my students wondered why I kept the bag on my desk during classes, they weren’t curious enough to ask, and I didn’t volunteer an explanation. Sid always says he enjoys watching me work, so I tried to do a good job despite being nervous about the afternoon’s plan.

  We left Bostock right after my last class, and I drove through a McDonald’s for lunch so Sid could keep me company while I ate in the car. In a different time, I’d have been self-conscious about apparently talking to myself in the car, but with ear buds and speakerphones everywhere, most people would assume I was on the phone.

  As soon as I finished eating, we hit the road again. I can’t say our conversation was scintillating. I was anxious about seeing Brownie’s parents, and possibly him as well, and Sid was nervous about revisiting the place where he gained consciousness in his current skeletal form. Granted, the idea of him losing that consciousness by returning to the scene of his first waking moments made no sense, but since nothing about Sid made sense, that wasn’t much comfort. It didn’t even help that the carnival had been in a different location that day. A carnival feels the same no matter where it sets up.

  Our mutual fretting resulted in a ridiculously intense argument over which movie better expressed the Christmas spirit: Miracle on 34th Street or It’s a Wonderful Life. Toward the end I think we both realized that we were just filling the time before we arrived at the zoo, and we declared it a draw just as I pulled into the parking lot, even though it was plain that Miracle on 34th Street was the obvious choice.

  I’d halfway expected that I’d have to pay admission to get to the Fentons, but the carnival was set up in the parking lot, not inside the zoo’s fence. Presumably at night, they’d have people watching to make sure nobody got to the rides without paying, but the handful of people out and about didn’t even blink as I ducked under the red-and-white rope outlining the carnival grounds and headed for the backyard, meaning the area where the cook shack, business trailer, generator truck, and those other less scenic show necessities were arranged. I went straight to the green trailer marked Office.

  “The show looks smaller than usual,” I whispered to Sid as we walked.

  “Who’s going to want to go up in a Ferris wheel in December?” he whispered back. “That would make even me cold.”

  I hadn’t called to let the Fentons know I was coming because I wasn’t sure what kind of reception I was going to get, so I thought it would be better to take them by surprise. Though I’d never been sure how happy they were with their son dating a towner, that didn’t mean that they’d be happy about my ceasing to date him. I knocked on the door, and when I heard Dana Fenton call, “Come in,” I took a deep breath and went inside the trailer. As I shut the door behind me, I could almost feel the Fentons glaring at me.

  Dana Fenton, whose father had founded the carnival, was a sturdy-looking woman with short silver hair and eyes just like her son’s. She glared at me while continuing to type on her computer. Her husband, Treasure Hunt Mannix, had a wiry build and wispy gray hair and looked neither welcoming nor hostile, only curious.

  The trailer was filled with the equipment you’d expect to find in any office: two desks, computers, filing cabinets, a storage cabinet doing double duty as a printer stand, a mini-fridge, a coffee maker, a time clock, and a couple of desk chairs. The small safe was less common, but not entirely unheard of. The only signs that this wasn’t your average business were the compact size and the colorful carnival posters and photos on the walls.

  “College Boy ain’t here,” Treasure Hunt said. College Boy was his nickname for Brownie. I’d always thought the point of a nickname was to be shorter than the formal version, but Treasure Hunt believed that a carney without a nickname wasn’t a true carney. Once he gave somebody a nickname, he stuck with it.

  “That’s all right.” I’d come as early as I had in hopes of missing him, but I wasn’t going to tell them that. “I actually wanted to talk to you two.”

  “Ready to give up teaching and join the show?” Treasure Hunt said. “We can use another backyard boy. Excuse me, backyard person.”

  I was pretty sure I’d been dissed but didn’t bother to ask in what way. “No, thanks. I’d actually like to talk to you about a case.” I’d practiced saying case without choking on it, trying to make it sound natural. From Dana’s reaction, I don’t think I succeeded.

  “Is that what you call it?” she said, frowning. “Brownie told us you like to nose around things. Of course, that was back when you were dating, so I didn’t know if you were still at it.”

  I know my face went red, but I didn’t respond to the dating part of her remark. For one, it had only been a couple of months, and for another, I was defended by an unexpected source.

  “She’s not so bad,” Treasure Hunt said. “She may be a towner, but she’s not as bad as a cop.”

  Dana sniffed, which I took as permission to continue.

  “I don’t know if you two have seen anything in the news, but a woman’s skeleton was found in Pennycross a few days ago.” When their only reaction was to shrug, I went on. “The police haven’t been able to identify her yet, but I found out that she disappeared from Pennycross on Christmas Eve ten years ago.”

  “You think she hitched a ride with Santa Claus.” Treasure Hunt snickered at his own joke.

  “Actually, I was wondering if her disappearance had something to do with you guys. You were working a Christmas Festival in North Ashfield that year.”

  Now it was Treasure Hunt’s turn to frown. “Maybe you are as bad as the cops. Anything happens when a carney is around and it has to be our fault!”

  I would have politely explained, but my nerves were on edge. “Oh, cut it out!” I snapped. “How long did I date Brownie? How much time did I spend with him and both of you? Do you think that after all that I’d have some stupid idea that all carnies are crooks and killers? I’d rather be a towner than a chump!”

  Treasure Hunt gaped for a second, but when Dana burst out laughing, he joined in.

  That lightened the mood considerably, and when they quieted down, I said, “Here’s the deal. While you guys were in North Ashfield that year, a woman broke into a vacant house and holed up there for nearly a month, hiding from somebody or something.”

  “You got a name?” Dana asked.

  “She never said.” I went on to describe Rose, using terms considerably less poetic than the ones in Charles’s note.

  Dana gave me a long look. “The only way you’d know this tale is from somebody who was hiding out with her.”

  “That’s right,” I said because it was obvious, though I wasn’t going to tell them who it was. “My source said she left on December twenty-fourth, and until the body was found, he thought she’d left town on her own hook. The body seems to match the woman’s description, but I can’t find a corresponding missing person report. So I wondered if she might have been a carney.”

  “That’s not completely stupid,” Treasure Hunt said. “The police don’t care when one of us goes missing, so there wouldn’t be any r
eports. Are you thinking that a towner killed her?”

  “All I know is that we’ve got a dead woman without a name. Maybe your show being in town that week is just a coincidence, but I don’t have any other leads. I take it nobody like that left the show around then.”

  “He doesn’t know,” Dana said. “Neither do I. You have to realize that not everybody is cut out to a carney. You get people who stay for seasons and some who get sick of the show after a month and take off without warning. Depending on how long the person had been with it, we might not take special notice. When did you say this was?”

  “Ten years ago.”

  Dana scratched her chin. “Nobody is springing to mind, but I suppose I could go through our files and see what I can find. Might be nothing, of course.”

  “I sure would appreciate it.” After that, they relaxed enough to offer me a cup of coffee, but I begged off in order to head back home. Once I made sure that Dana had my cell phone number and email address, I said goodbye, and Treasure Hunt even wished me a good day. At least I think he did. His love for old-time carney slang rivaled Sid’s affection using bone names in place of profanity, but while I know bone names, I frequently have no clue what Treasure Hunt is saying.

  I made it back to my car, relieved that I hadn’t run into my sometime-boyfriend after all. That is, of course, until I saw Brownie leaning against the hood of my car.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dr. Brownlow Mannix, known as Brownie to everybody other than his father, was just as good-looking as I remembered. He had reddish brown hair, dark blue eyes, and a tiny little cleft in his chin. When he wasn’t working with his family’s carnival, he was a fellow adjunct, specializing in American Studies.

  “Hey,” I said. It wasn’t a cool or sultry reading of Hey. It was more like Hey, I’d hoped to get out of here without seeing you, and now I feel like a complete idiot.

  “Hey,” he responded, leaving me to consider interpretations of his greeting. “I thought I recognized your car, so I figured it was worth waiting around to see for sure.”

  “Your mother emailed you that I was here, didn’t she?” I said, remembering how Dana had kept typing after I came into the trailer.

  “She might have mentioned it. What brings you out here? Something skeleton related?”

  He thought he was joking because I’d first encountered him when trying to track down Sid’s origins, so he was taken aback when I said, “Actually, yes. I found another dead body, and I thought your parents might know something about it.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It will probably sound less insane if you let them explain it.”

  “I was hoping you’d tell me. Hence my standing out here.”

  “You could have waited for me at the trailer. It’s a whole lot warmer there than it is out here.”

  “But not as private. Since you’re all too accurate about the cold, can I buy you a cup of coffee? There’s a Starbucks about half a mile away.”

  “Make it hot chocolate and you’ve got a deal.”

  I could feel Sid vibrating from inside the sugar skull bag, and I had a hunch he was laughing at me.

  It was easier for us both to go in my car, since we were standing right next to it. I started telling the story on the way, going into a little more depth than I had with Brownie’s parents. Since he knew about Charles’s living situation, he guessed instantly who’d been sharing the Nichols house with Rose. That meant he understood why I hadn’t let Charles go to the police with the information.

  By the time I finished, we were at Starbucks with steaming cups of hot chocolate in front of us.

  “If you don’t mind my saying so, the connection with my family’s show seems kind of tenuous,” Brownie said.

  “It defines tenuous, but I’ve got to start somewhere.”

  “Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. I like Charles, and I’ve always been curious about how you do the things you do.”

  “You realize most people think I’m nuts for having this hobby.” There was a sharp nudge from the sugar skull bag, which I’d placed on the floor by my feet so I could at least pretend to be alone with Brownie, but Sid’s hearing is as sharp as he wants it to be. “Maybe not so much a hobby as an avocation.”

  “That’s their issue. My parents think I’m nuts for working as an adjunct because the money is so bad, and my fellow academics think traveling part-time with a carnival is nuts because it’s not intellectual enough.”

  I was quickly remembering why I’d enjoyed spending time with him.

  “What’s next with the investigation?” he asked.

  “I’m really hoping your parents can dig something up, but until then, it consists of looking at missing person reports to see if I find one that matches Rose.”

  “That sounds time-consuming.”

  “I squeeze in what I can.” Or rather, Sid did. “It helps that I’m teaching five sections of the same class, and it’s one I can nearly teach in my sleep.”

  “How is life at Bostock? I’ve been hearing about the imminent strike.”

  “Word is definitely getting around. I still haven’t heard anything official, but we’ve got an adjunct faculty meeting next week, and I suspect it’ll be discussed then.”

  “I got a call from a friend of mine asking if I was going to apply for a temporary position, should one become available.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I’m not sure. Crossing a picket line makes me uncomfortable, but…”

  “But,” I agreed. Though Brownie had another income stream, that didn’t mean he didn’t understand what it meant to be an adjunct.

  By then the hot chocolate was gone, and I realized how late it was getting. I drove Brownie back to the carnival lot, and before he got out of the car, we shared a quick kiss. It would have been just about perfect if he hadn’t said, “Maybe we can see each other over the holidays.”

  I stiffened just a touch, but I think he noticed, and I’m sure he noticed my lame response of, “Sure, let’s stay in touch.”

  He looked perplexed as he got out of the car, and I couldn’t blame him. I drove out of the parking lot without looking back.

  For once, Sid hadn’t picked up on the subtext, mainly because I’d put his bag in the backseat.

  “Hello!” he called from behind me.

  “Wait until I get to a red light,” I said, and at the first opportunity, pulled him into the front seat. Since he had his hand, he unzipped it for himself so he could get a clearer look at my face.

  “Well, well, well,” he said with more than a hint of insinuation. “I think somebody’s got a crush.”

  “One does not have crushes on someone one has dated.”

  “Then why did one sound like a junior high school student when encountering someone one has dated?”

  “One did not!”

  “One did so!”

  “One did not!”

  “One did so!”

  “One…I mean I didn’t. Nor do I have a crush on Brownie Mannix. Look, I like him. We’ve had a few laughs together. That’s it.”

  “So why did you stop having laughs with him?”

  “I don’t know, Sid. It just didn’t…We don’t have…Just no spark.”

  “It seems to me like you two spark just fine.”

  “Well, he doesn’t seem to agree. Until today, I hadn’t heard from him since October.”

  “Did you two fight?”

  “No. He asked me out one time when I was busy, and I guess he was upset that I wouldn’t change my plans. Or maybe he started seeing somebody else. I don’t know, Sid. Don’t make more of it than it is.”

  “If you say so,” he said.

  He sounded suspicious, but I preferred suspicious over guilty, which is how he’d have felt if he knew the whole story.

  Though Brownie and I had never made our relationship formal, we had certainly enjoyed spending time together when
ever our schedules meshed. Unfortunately, they didn’t mesh all that often. He both traveled with the carnival and relocated for adjunct jobs, and I’d been teaching outside Pennycross for a while. Still, when I’d come back to town in the fall, Brownie had made it plain that he wanted us to pick up where we’d left off, and at first, it had been great.

  Then Brownie asked me to come to Dana’s birthday party, even including my parents and Madison in the invitation. I liked Dana and I really hadn’t had an excuse to refuse.

  Except Sid. I’d promised to take him to a Halloween carnival that same night, and he’d already bought a costume. I couldn’t exactly tell Brownie that, and I’d gotten flustered enough that my excuse for turning him down had obviously been an excuse, and he’d been understandably annoyed. At least I assumed he’d been annoyed because that was when he’d quit calling. That had annoyed me, so I hadn’t called him, either.

  I’d dated a reasonable number of men over the years, but Brownie was only the second I’d considered a long-term relationship with. The first had been Madison’s father, and we’d been engaged when I found out I was pregnant. Shortly thereafter, he’d told me that he didn’t want children—at least not anytime soon—so I had to choose between him and my baby. It had been a surprisingly easy decision, which made me wonder just how seriously I’d taken the relationship. I’d always been grateful that I hadn’t told him about Sid.

  That was the problem. Sid was a big part of my life. Therefore, I couldn’t be entirely open with a man until I told him about Sid, and I couldn’t tell anyone about Sid until I was sure he was going to accept him. Which I couldn’t know until I told him. It was the most vicious circle I’d ever been trapped in.

  “Do you think Dana will find anything in her files?” I said, firmly changing the subject.

  “I’m not feeling hopeful,” Sid said. “And I’m out of ideas unless I can somehow find the right missing persons report.”

  “You want to listen to music?”

  “Christmas music?”

  “You bet.” I let him play his favorites all the way home, and he sang along to them all, including my least favorite, “The Christmas Shoes.”