A Fair to Die For (12 page)

Shirley said, “You reckon she had an appointment and, and . . . ran into some kind of trouble?”

“But, why would she risk that?” Carrie asked, coming back to the Edie problem. “She doesn’t seem stupid or foolish, and we’ve heard nothing about an appointment, or her wanting to meet anyone but Milton Sales.”

“Could be that’s exactly what she’s doing,” Shirley said. “Meeting Milton Sales, I mean.”

“Him? But how would she work that out? ” Carrie asked.

“She’s got a cell phone, so could make all kinds of plans you folks wouldn’t hear about. And did you notice how she hung back when that deputy sheriff was at our house last night? The woman’s hiding secrets, mark my words. Haven’t you been wondering why she won’t tell the deputies about her search for Sales? Has she said anything more to you about that? And, how about those two guys in the dark suits who were asking about her? Find out anything about them?”

“No,” Henry said. “But she’s been with us all the time except now. It would have been hard for her to connect with anyone and make plans for a meeting. Most cell phones won’t work where we live.”

“She’s been with you
except
for the time she was on break here, or was with me driving home,” Shirley reminded them. “She spent most of the time going home asking about Hobbs State Park. When I told her it was the largest Arkansas State Park, she seemed mostly curious about the sections near here; Van Winkle Hollow and the visitor center. If I was you, I’d be curious to find out if she decided to have a look over there this morning, and mebee not just to sightsee, either.”

After a short silence, Henry said, “Interesting. If you two can get along without my help for an hour or so, I think I will look around the area for her. Of course it’s possible she decided to run for some reason, but all her things are at our house and she doesn’t have a key. I’m thinking she might be meeting someone, as you suggest.”

Carrie said, “I suppose it could be Milton Sales. It’s possible he told her more about how to contact him than just the invitation to meet at his RV on Thursday. Seems to me asking so much about Hobbs is kind of peculiar, since she hasn’t played tourist before. Her only interest in sightseeing around here was War Eagle Mill, and that turned out to be because she’d heard the name in connection with Sales. Hobbs might be a logical place for them to meet. Sales could know it well, and she’d be able to find it easily from here. It is rather public, but, assuming Sales is interested in hiding himself right now, it’s also a huge place where one could remain anonymous or even hidden with little extra trouble. So, you go on, we’ll be fine. I bet the crowds won’t get really big until afternoon, this being Sunday.”

Henry said, “I’ll check around here and at Hobbs. Even if someone knows you had those hollow toys, you’ll be safe, because I see the sheriff’s office has sent someone in plain clothes to keep an eye on you.”

“Really?” Carrie said. “Where?”

“Woman in green slacks and long suit jacket. You probably didn’t notice her working with the candle seller across the way. Does the candle seller look familiar? She been here all during the fair?”

“Yes,” both Shirley and Carrie said.

“But, not the woman in green slacks,” Carrie added, “and all she seems to be doing is wrapping whatever sells, though I admit I didn’t see anything unusual in that. But Henry, how on earth would they manage working her in without having to tell the candle maker what’s going on, and getting her all excited about it?”

“Well, the candle maker could believe they’re working a sting, and she’s proud to have been asked to help. Maybe she was told that the couple selling leather goods is suspected of using skins from endangered species to make their purses and belts. Or maybe someone reported that those bottled seasonings over there have bits of chopped straw as a filler, and the deputy is keeping an eye out while someone at a lab tests whatever the suspect merchandise is supposed to be. They will, of course, find out there is no taint or no endangered species by the time the fair closes. So all that’s happened is a doubly interesting day for the candle maker, and good cover for the undercover officer.”

“I’ll be jiggered,” said Shirley.

“Is she carrying?” Carrie asked, indicating the woman in green with her elbow.

“Yes,” Henry said. “She has a gun belt. That’s why the long jacket, and why she looks rather, uh, rotund in the middle.”

Carrie rolled her lips in to keep from chuckling, then said, “They are taking this seriously, then.”

“You bet. Okay. I’ll be back in an hour or so. While I’m gone, neither of you is to leave this space, right? And I wouldn’t leave myself if it weren’t for that woman in green.”

Carrie and Shirley both nodded, and began saying hello and smiling at people passing by their counter.

Henry walked slowly through the crowds, stopping to look at a sign telling the history of War Eagle Mills Farm, where the fair was being held. He’d learned long ago that reading signs or looking in shop windows gave him good cover for surveillance. Next, he walked across the iron and wood War Eagle River Bridge, now more busy with people than cars, scanning the area as he went. On the mill side of the river he stopped as if to read the sign commemorating the hundredth anniversary of the bridge in 2008, and its restoration to safety and sturdiness in 2010. He saw no car like Edie’s, or any woman who resembled her.

He went inside the mill, pretended to look over a display of grains and flours, climbed the stairs to study the kitchen equipment and crafts on the second floor, then went up another flight to survey the Bean Palace Restaurant as if he were looking for a friend.

He saw only strangers.

After hurrying through the aisles of fair booths fanning out from the mill, he got into his truck and headed east on Highway 12 toward Hobbs.

There was no white car in the parking lot for Van Winkle Hollow National Historic Site, so he decided to go on toward the park’s visitor center and natural history museum.

Be darned. There were two men sitting in a dark blue car in the visitor center parking lot. Were these the guys that had come to their home looking for Edie? And there, on the other side of the lot, was a familiar-looking white car. He drove around as if searching for a parking place. The lot was nearly full, so what he was doing wouldn’t look odd. Yes. The car was Edie’s.

He pulled in a space, and sat still for a few moments, wondering whether he should wait to see what the men did, or go inside and look for Edie. When they made no move to leave their car, he decided they might be waiting for Edie to come out, so he left the truck and followed a sidewalk to the large, rustic building. Though the display and activity areas covered a lot of territory, it didn’t take him long to tour all of them and decide Edie wasn’t there. He even asked a woman coming from the restroom if his wife was inside. No, no one but the woman had been in there.

The Ozark Plateau Trail and picnic area were the only remaining options easily accessible from the visitor center. He hurried out the building’s side door and started along the paved part of the trail. Most of the deciduous trees still held their colored fall leaves, and, though the pine trees were tall, with needles high off the ground, seeing through the forest for any distance was still difficult. There were several walkers enjoying the warm temperatures and sunny skies. Too bad he and Carrie weren’t also enjoying this lovely day together.

All the benches he passed on the paved part of the trail were empty, but, on a bench at the end of a gravel side path he thought he saw movement through the trees, and paused to look more carefully. Finally he took a few cautious steps along the path. Yes, two people, deep in conversation. He wondered if what they were talking about was absorbing all their attention. If so, they evidently weren’t afraid of anyone coming up on them unexpectedly.

The woman had to be Edie. Smallish, beige hair, beige slacks and sweater. She’d taken the wig off. It was probably in that tote beside her. And, who was the guy? Could this be Milton Sales? He had a ball cap on, and the hair showing in back was brown sprinkled with grey, instead of the light brown Carrie described. Didn’t matter. Sales, like Edie, could own a wig. However, having that kind of thing at hand did indicate the man anticipated a need to disguise his looks at times. Curious.

Well, he was going to find out who Edie’s companion was.

Henry tried to walk quietly as he drew closer to the bench, but finally the crunch of his feet on gravel alerted her. She stood, and turned to see who was coming. The man stayed seated and did not look around.

“Hello, Edie,” Henry said.

Chapter Twelve
A PASSIONATE DISGUISE

For a moment she said nothing. Then she began “I . . . ,” glanced at her companion, and stopped.

Henry didn’t speak either, just stared at her for a minute before shifting his gaze to the man seated on the bench, who had turned sideways. Then he looked back at Edie.

“Yes?” he said, finally.

“How did you find me?”

“Logic.”

“I see.”

Henry waited, watching her think her remarks into position, wondering what would come next.

“I stopped for breakfast next to the Interstate, and ran into an old friend from DC who’s heading to Texas to visit his . . . daughter. I wanted to see this park, and the fast-food place was noisy and crowded, so I suggested we come here to continue our conversation. Obviously I lost track of time. I shouldn’t have left Shirley and Carrie to handle sales alone, and I’m going to the fair right now. Tony has decided to stay over in this area, so he and I can get together again tomorrow.”

Tony? Really? Other than the grey hair color, this man looks a heck of a lot like Milton Sales as Carrie described him. I guess Edie’s afraid I’ll report him to the sheriff, and the first name she came up with is from the novel by Tony Hillerman on the table by my reading chair. What will she do when she realizes where she grabbed the name?

“Henry King, this is Tony . . . Hillman.”

There was a moment of awkward silence before “Tony” stood, glanced at Henry, said a muffled “Pleased to meet you,” then faced Edie. “I’ve got to get going, find a place to stay. See you Monday. Call me on my cell.”

At that, Milton/Tony bolted off the trail and down through the hollow. He headed west—maybe in the direction of the parking lot—leaving Henry feeling helpless, muddled, and angry as he watched the man who was probably a drug dealer disappear among the trees and underbrush.

But, what had his options been? He couldn’t have forced him to stay. He had no authority, no proof of any criminal activity, though he knew several people in the county sheriff’s office were very interested in talking with Milton Sales. Would asking the man to stay and answer a few questions have done any good? Probably not, but why hadn’t he spoken up, challenging Edie’s lies?

Too late now. Years past, as a police officer, he could have forced the issue. But not today. He hadn’t a clue whether or not Sales was armed. Except in extreme circumstances, he didn’t carry a gun himself and wouldn’t use it here, anyway.

Henry turned toward the woman who had put him in this mess. “Cut the bull, Edie. That was Milton Sales, wasn’t it? The man you have barely met, right? The man who made toys stuffed with some substance that mimics illegal drugs?”

“Milton didn’t make those toys. He doesn’t make anything like them, and he says his counter shelf was empty after he packed up to move out yesterday. The four hollow pieces were put there later. Ask Carrie to think back over what she saw in his booth. Was there anything that looked like those four? He said proof would be that he signs all his pieces. Were those animals signed? I didn’t get a good look at them so don’t know, but if they were signed, the signature was forged.”

“I didn’t see a signature. So, why did he leave the fair?”

“Well, I . . . don’t know.”

“Edie, tell me the truth or I’m walking out right now. But first, in fairness, I should tell you there are two men sitting in a dark blue car in the parking lot. They undoubtedly ID’d your rental car. There’s no way you can get to that car without walking by them. If they know who Milton Sales is, they may grab him, too.”

He saw the troubled look on her face before she turned her back on him. In a minute, still facing the woods, she said. “I don’t think they know what Milton looks like, but still, they could ruin everything.”

“Ruin what?”

“Henry, can I trust you? Really trust you? I’d have to break all kinds of rules to say anything to you at all.”

“Edie, I was a cop for thirty-five years. In my time I handled a lot of secrets that no one will ever hear from me, even now.

“Could those secrets put you in danger—if anyone knew, I mean?”

“Some. Possibly.”

After a silence, she said, “Well, what I’m going to tell you now could, too. You ever hear of the Bureau of Drug Abuse Control?”

He drew it out of the past. “Formed under the old Department of Health, Education, and Welfare in the mid sixties. Put under HEW because, back then, drug use was considered more of a medical problem than one belonging to law enforcement, as you confirmed when you were going through the history of drug use at our home. That Bureau didn’t last long, though.”

“Right. It didn’t. Things were changing rapidly back then. Did Kansas City ever deal with drug abuse by truckers?”

“Wasn’t my department, but I heard something about it. Mainly amphetamines and barbiturates, right? I think several were caught distributing. I can see how the easy opportunity to distribute would prove a temptation to some.”

“Yes. Narcotics officers were sent undercover in the trucking community to weed out offenders.”

“Uh-huh. As I recall, KCPD dealt with a few of those officers. Some turned out to be of questionable integrity themselves, though Kansas City didn’t get involved in proving that. Also, back then, misuse of dangerous drugs was growing so rapidly that I’m sure lawmakers’ constituents felt things were getting out of hand. Something new had to be tried. Eventual result, the Drug Enforcement Administration.”