A Fair to Die For (9 page)

Reluctantly, Carrie agreed, wrapped the animals in scraps of newsprint, and headed for Shirley’s booth. People were lined up there, waiting to be helped, so she put the toys in an empty cardboard box and went back to selling.

When there was a break in customers she told Shirley a vendor in the aisle behind them had gone missing and, since the exhibitors next to him were working alone, they wanted her to report his absence. Shirley started to ask a question, but stopped, and nodded. Edie said, “Let me . . .” but Carrie walked away and didn’t hear the rest of her request.

Once outside, she headed down the row of tents toward a deputy sheriff who was directing traffic to and from parking lots. She asked if he had seen anyone coming in before the fair’s opening to remove merchandise from a booth.

“Well, one guy was putting boxes in the back of his truck when I took over from night security. The guard said he had exhibitor ID so it was okay. The truck was blocking traffic though, so I told him he had to get out of the way, and that was that. He jumped in his truck and pulled out in the direction of Highway 12.”

“Thanks.” Carrie glanced at her watch.
Oh, dear
. She thanked the man and headed toward the fair office as fast as she could walk without knocking people down or tripping on tufts of grass. Then she stopped cold for a second, thinking she should at least have taken time to ask the deputy for a description of the truck and its driver. But, surely it had been Milton Sales. As she started her forward jog again, her eyes lifted past the tents to the exhibitor parking lot.

Milton Sales’s RV was still parked there.

She was almost running when she got to the office, which was—thank goodness—next to the restrooms.

She hadn’t been back at work long when a flurry of activity stirred the crowd in the open area outside the tents, and people shopping inside hurried out to have a look. Edie went to the entrance and came back in a hurry. “Looks like a couple of those sheriff’s deputies from the parking lot are at Sales’s RV,” she said. “They’re stringing crime scene tape. I’m going to see what’s happening.”

“No,” Carrie said, “you are not. Stay here where you’ll be safe and unrecognized.”

“I can’t! What if he’s . . .”

“No! You have to stay here, Edie. I’ll go check. Tell Shirley as much of your story as you can while people are outside gawking. It’s safe to tell her, and, so far, all she knows is that you’re my visiting cousin. You need to explain everything to her right now, and if you don’t, I will when I come back. She’s seen enough that she must be suspecting there’s more to your reason for being here than just a family visit.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Edie, she’s my best friend and I know her very well. It’s completely safe to confide in her, and she might even be able to help us in some way. As for going to Sales’s RV, that’s natural for me since I was the one who told them all the merchandise had been removed from his booth while the fair was closed, and suggested they check his trailer. No one knows you, or that you might have a connection to him. Be sensible. You must not appear to be involved.”

Edie finally nodded and went back to Shirley while Carrie pushed her way through the crowds and headed toward the exhibitor parking lot.

Oh, surely he can’t be dead, he just can’t be! I need to talk with that man.

Then, hearing Henry’s cautions inside her head, she amended this to:
Edie and I need to talk with that man.

She took several more steps before she thought,
Well, at least Edie needs to talk to him. And I can stand by, of course.

There is so much we don’t know.

Chapter Nine
CARRIE IN TROUBLE

Intent on finding out what had happened to Milton Sales, Carrie forgot common sense and caution. She lifted the crime scene tape already strung at some distance from the RV, ducked under it, and took a couple of steps toward the door. Then she stopped cold, imagining Henry’s voice reminding her this was an uninvited intrusion on a possible crime scene, and she might be getting in deep trouble.

People in the gathering crowd behind her shouted questions: “What’s going on?” “Is this your trailer?” “Is someone hurt—sick—dead?” Except for a single shake of her head, she ignored them.

On her left she could see a woman in a deputy sheriff’s uniform hurrying toward her, but the male deputy she’d spoken with in the parking lot that morning came out of the RV just then. He stopped and looked her over, probably either trying to remember where he’d seen her, or wondering why she had the nerve to come inside the perimeter.

“Hello, Deputy Rainwater,” she said, remembering the name on his badge. “Is Milton Sales inside? Is he okay?”

He waited a moment, still studying her, then asked, “This your trailer?”

“No, I . . .”

“You know who it belongs to?”

“I think it belongs to Milton Sales, one of the exhibitors in the tent where I’m working. He’s probably the man you talked with this morning when he was loading his truck. His booth is empty now.”

Ooops, she hadn’t remembered to take those pull toys Sales left behind to the fair office. Okay, she could do it later, maybe even give them to him, on the chance he showed up again. A few toys made no difference here.

“Can you describe Sales?”

“Yes. Caucasian. Not very tall, probably five foot ten. Slight build, around 140 pounds. A full head of hair, light brown hair with a bit of grey. Clean shaven. Can’t be sure about eye color, but I’d guess green or brown. I don’t know what he was wearing today. Yesterday he had on a black pullover sweater over a blue dress shirt. Faded jeans.”

“You’re very observant.”

“I’ve been told I am. Is someone of that description inside?”

“No. No one inside, but the place is wrecked. Somebody did a thorough search. Nothing broken, though. In these close quarters, the searcher probably didn’t want to smash stuff, since the noise might be heard outside. But it’s a good thing we got here when we did. Someone unscrewed the lines to the propane heater and cookstove. A close enough flame, a cigarette, and ka-blooey!”

“I do smell something.”

“Unburned propane. We have everything open to disperse the gas, but that’s why we’re keeping people at a distance. Your name is . . . ?”

“Carrie McCrite.”

“So, Ms. McCrite, what more do you know about Sales?”

“Not much, but his neighbors in our exhibitors’ tent seem to know him pretty well. They’re working without help today and asked me to report his absence at the fair office. First I came to you to find out if you’d seen any exhibitors leave.”

“Uh huh. Well, the description you gave sounds pretty much like the man who was loading his truck when I arrived, so I think we should talk to those exhibitors. Give Deputy Rosten your name, phone number, and address, then would you please take her to where they are?”

She nodded, then waited while Rainwater murmured a few words to Deputy Rosten. Were they about her?

As the two women made their way through the crowds, Carrie wished the deputy had on something other than her official uniform. It would be better if she wasn’t attracting so much attention. Made it harder to talk to people with all that notice.

“How did the intruder get in to the RV?” she asked. “Was the door broken?”

After a hesitation, the deputy said, “The lock on these things is flimsy. It wouldn’t have been hard to force it.”

“Oh. Well, are more deputies coming to help you? This is going to be a challenge if there are only two of you to control crowds and ask questions.”

“We have asked for help, but, since no one has been hurt—well, it depends on what’s going on in the rest of the county whether they can send anyone now.”

“What about the gas?”

“Of course that does put a more sinister angle on it.”

After a pause, Carrie asked, “Do you suppose someone in the RV could have smelled the gas and got out safely during the night or early this morning?”

The deputy looked at her. “You said you don’t know the owner?”

“I don’t, or, more accurately, I don’t know Milton Sales if he’s the owner. I did talk with him briefly on Thursday when I bought one of the wooden toys he makes. I also saw him going into that same RV not long after I left his booth.” As an afterthought she added, “It was lunch time.”

They were at the entrance to the tent, and Carrie noticed Shirley and Edie were both busy helping customers, and several people had crowded around them. With a twinge of guilt, she stayed with Deputy Rosten, leading her to the empty booth that had been occupied by Sales.

“People on either side of here have exhibited next to him for several years, so they probably know him pretty well. Sorry I can’t introduce you. I don’t know their names, other than that the woman is Betty.”

The guilt about leaving Edie and Shirley to cope without her help was more than a twinge now, so, in spite of the fact she wanted to stay and learn what Sales’s neighbors told the deputy, she made herself say, “I’ve got to go back to work. It’s probably best if you don’t interrupt these people in the middle of a sale, though your uniform may well cause customers to back off. But the whole point of any of us being here is to sell.” At that, she hurried back to Critter Quilts and Baby Cuddlys.

Edie finished helping a woman put her new quilt in the large tote she carried, and then turned to hiss at Carrie, “What happened?”

“Milton Sales is missing. Unknown person or persons tore apart the inside of his RV looking for who knows what, then loosened hose connections to the propane tank, who knows why, since it looks like Sales wasn’t there. If he was there, well, he isn’t now. There could have been a nasty explosion and fire if anyone had come too close to that trailer with a cigarette. A deputy is on guard at the RV now, another is talking to the people on either side of Sales’s booth space. He evidently packed up and left in his truck early this morning before many exhibitors were here. If we have a break, I’ll go back and see what the deputy might be learning.”

“I can go. I’ll just hang around like I was interested in a bird feeder or the soaps and scents the other vendor there sells.”

“No, you can’t. For one thing, the guy selling the birdhouses would recognize you in that wig. And I don’t think you want to take it off here. Right?”

“The deputy at the trailer doesn’t know me. Besides, there’ll be a crowd there.”

“They were already dispersing when I came back this way. The excitement was over. Now, we’d both better get busy helping customers before Shirley has to ask us to. Did you tell her why you came to Arkansas?”

Edie nodded and said, “I wonder if someone wanted to blow up the RV to destroy evidence of . . . whatever?” Obviously not expecting an answer, she turned to help the next customer. After an apology and brief explanation to Shirley, Carrie did, too.

An hour later Deputy Rosten—Olinda Rosten, her badge said—appeared in front of Critter Quilts and Baby Cuddlys. Carrie noticed with relief that Edie stayed busy hanging up the remaining quilt stock, which kept her facing away from the deputy. Shirley, however, stared at Rosten with open curiosity. “May I help you?” she said, though Carrie was sure she knew this woman was no customer.

“I apologize, but I need for Ms. McCrite to come with me. We want to ask her some questions.”

“Why now?” Shirley said. “We’re mighty busy. I expect her to be here helping me until 5:00. I’m sure you can wait until then.”

In spite of her sudden twinge of fear at the turn things were taking, Shirley’s bold comment made it difficult for Carrie not to smile in the deputy’s face.

Rosten blinked, said, “Well, we’re investigating . . .” then stopped talking as she was shouldered aside by a woman reaching for a pink Baby Cuddly. Obviously the deputy’s uniform didn’t intimidate some people as much as Carrie had supposed.

“Excuse me,” the woman said, handing the Cuddly to Carrie, “I’ll take this one, and another in pink. My daughter just had twins, two little girls.”

Ignoring Olinda Rosten, Carrie took the Cuddly and said, “Oh, congratulations. I suggest getting the second Cuddly in either lavender or yellow so, as they grow older, each girl can identify her own. They’re so long-wearing that the twins will still be enjoying them as toddlers and beyond.”

“Goodness, I didn’t think of that. Perfect. In fact, give me four, two pink and two lavender. That way, if either of them loses one, or they need extras for day care, Marian will be prepared.”

“Good idea,” Carrie said, writing up a ticket, “and you’re lucky. Those are the last two pink Cuddlys.”

As soon as the twins’ grandmother left the sales counter, a pregnant woman took her place. “We’re doing the baby’s room in lively colors. It’s a boy, but I don’t go for the blue-pink stereotype. I’d like that red truck quilt and a red Cuddly, please.”

Carrie completed the sale, then glanced at Deputy Rosten, who was now being buffeted on every side by people surging along the aisle. The deputy looked at Shirley before shoving closer to Carrie. “Ms. McCrite, don’t leave this area until a deputy questions you further.” She pushed back out into the human tide and disappeared.

“Whew,” Edie said in Carrie’s ear. “I wondered if she was going to arrest you.”

“The thought occurred to me,” Carrie replied, “and now, come drought or high water, I’m phoning Henry. I could sure use his support. Eleanor often closes by noon on Saturdays anyway, so I hope he’s not covered over with customers.”

She paused for only a few seconds before she continued, “ I’m afraid I’ve gotten myself involved too deeply in this mess,” and wondered if she should have looked Edie in the eye and said, “. . . involved too deeply in
your
mess.”

After a long and urgent conversation with Carrie, Henry, murmuring expletives he would no longer have said aloud, took rapid steps to close the shop. He made sure Eleanor’s potted plants and the cut flowers in the cooler had plenty of water, pulled down the door blinds, locked the credit card receipts and cash in the safe, turned on the alarm system, and hurried to his truck.