Elaine Orr - Jolie Gentil 03 - When the Carny Comes to Town (20 page)

“No kidding,” George said, staring at the screen.

Scoobie entered the frame and he and Turk walked into the Sandpiper.  “He knew that guy before,” I said.

Though the tapes weren’t timed in any way, my guess was less than ten minutes went by before Scoobie came out, walking fast and looking angry.  “From what he said, I think that’s about one or one-thirty,” George said.

I nodded.  Turk came out less than a minute later and followed Scoobie, and soon after that came Penny.  She looked up and down the street and then walked in the direction Turk had gone.  She looked steadier on her feet than she did when I met her on Sunday, but she was not a fast walker.

George ejected the tape.  He nodded at Lester.  “I’d like to keep this, if it’s okay.”

“For the hundred bucks I paid you can have five of them,” Lester said.

I’d had enough of Lester and George to last me for a month.  It took awhile to ditch Lester, but George I needed to talk to.  I finally said I had Scoobie’s library books in my car and George said he had to finish a story on Memorial Day traffic headaches. 

Without agreeing in advance, George and I drove to the hospital.  He walked over to my car as I was getting out.

“I need to tell you about Scoobie,” I said.

“You mean like he’s in the hospital after someone tried to kill him?” George asked.

“No, I mean after Jennifer was at the paper with us she told him we were looking at pictures of Penny and Turk.  He’s really, really angry with us.”

George stopped walking and faced me.  “She did what?”

I just nodded.  “Really mad.”

He leaned against a car.  “Damn.  I never trust a woman who gets her nails done.”

Doesn’t sound as if George dates too many women
.  “He already basically threw me out.  Why don’t you try talking to him?” I asked.

GEORGE WAS BACK in the lobby in less than ten minutes.  “Ramona’s with him.  They ganged up on me.”

“Yeah, she thought I should leave it all alone, too.”

“He’ll get over it,” George said, seemingly more to convince himself than me.

It was well into Saturday evening, and the drive to the hospital had been slow because Ocean Alley’s streets were teeming with beach-happy visitors.  I wanted to go home.

“I’m ready to call it a day,” I said.  “I don’t know where to go with any of this except the police.”

“Uh, uh,” George said.  “I’ve got a story here.”

“I thought you were worried about bad guys learning more about Scoobie,” I said.

George gave me a look that seemed to imply I could drop dead anytime.  “I’m holding it until I can say who they are and maybe help get them arrested.”

I HAD FORGOTTEN ABOUT Mystery-Writer-Marcus, but when I got back to the Cozy Corner Saturday evening he was playing Scrabble in the kitchen with Aunt Madge. 

“There she is,” he called, giving me his toothpaste-commercial smile.  “I heard you tattled on me.” 

I tried not to look as surprised as I felt. 
A guest in the enclave?
  “You did surprise me, that’s for sure.” 

“I have promised Madge I will learn to count better.” 

He missed Aunt Madge’s eye roll in my direction.  But when he turned back to her she smiled. 
She’s having fun.

“Are your friends at the wedding?” I asked.

“Yes, the reception should be more than half over by now,” she said.

Marcus grinned at me.  “I tried to talk Madge into crashing the reception with me, but she didn’t seem to think that was very proper.”

“I’m not too interested in going where I’m not…expected,” she said, giving me a meaningful look.

I ignored her barb.  “She usually wins,” I said, nodding at the board.

I begged off their request to join them in a new game and was brushing my teeth, with Jazz keeping me company on the edge of the sink, when I heard Marcus climbing the back stairs to his room.  I didn’t especially like him using “my” stairs, but if Aunt Madge was willing to play Scrabble with him that was good enough for me.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE BEST THING ABOUT the Internet is you can find information almost instantly.  A not so good thing is that sometimes I need more time to think before I act, and instant information kind of hinders that. 

I walked over to Java Jolt Sunday morning to use the Internet.  East Jersey Entertainment’s web site said its two “carnival teams” would be in Point Pleasant Beach and Atlantic City for Memorial Day weekend.  Atlantic City was not practical for a quick visit.  It is a long way south of Ocean Alley.  More important, I had no intention of setting foot in the town where my ex-husband said he “lost big at the tables.”  Point Pleasant was even closer than Asbury Park, so I hoped Turk was at that carnival. 

I know George goes to Saint Anthony’s on Sunday morning, so I had no one to talk to about my idea. 
No one to talk you out of it.
  Besides, he might want to do something his way, and I generally preferred mine.

It was ten-thirty.  Aunt Madge wouldn’t be home from First Prez until at least noon, later if she stayed for coffee.  I would leave her a note saying I was visiting Scoobie and it would be awhile before she wondered where I was.  I would have time to go to the carnival in Point Pleasant and get back to Ocean Alley before she thought about me.  Much.

I figured Scoobie was still mad at me, but I did have the Agatha Christie books for him, and if I stopped by the hospital I would not be totally lying to Aunt Madge.

It was almost eleven when I got to the hospital.  Scoobie’s room was empty, so I looked down the hall.  He was dressed in sweatpants and a tee shirt and was walking along the hall holding onto the handrail.  A nursing assistant was trailing him with Scoobie’s walker.  When they turned to walk back toward his room, Scoobie took the walker from the nursing assistant. 

He concentrated on his walking and I noticed Scoobie’s gait was more natural now.  Apparently he was in less pain.  He saw me from about fifty feet away and just shook his head at me.  He said nothing to me as the nursing assistant walked him back in the room and helped him settle in a chair.

“You don’t have to talk to me,” I said, when I was sure the man was out of hearing distance.

“Thank you for reminding me I have freedom of speech, and it includes not speaking to anyone,” he said.

I put the two books on the bed.  “Daphne said you like Agatha Christie.”

“I’m tired of her,” he said.

I felt my mouth twitch and tried to look serious again.

“I’m seriously mad at you, Jolie,” Scoobie said.

“I know.  I’m just here for a minute and I’ll leave you alone.”

“That would be good.”

I left.

I HAD ONE STOP TO MAKE en route to the carnival.  Two really.  I bought flowers from the small refrigerator of flowers in Mr. Markle’s store and plopped them in a vase that was in my trunk.  I had taken it from Scoobie’s hospital room a couple days ago.  After his flowers had died, of course.

It looked as if Manasquan was as crowded as Ocean Alley for the holiday weekend.  The Parkers were on the deck at the back of their house, which faced the street, when I pulled into their driveway.  Bob Parker was on a chaise lounge and had a laptop in front of him.  With guilt I figured it was probably a replacement for one stolen when their house was burglarized.

“Jolie, is that you?” asked Mrs. Parker, as I got out of the car.

I had meant to look up their first names.  My brain seems to be foggy about half of everything since Scoobie was hurt.  “Yes, Carol, it’s me.”

“Caroline,” she said, still smiling.

Mr. Parker, whom I thought was named Ralph, stood and placed the laptop on his lounger.  “What brings you back again?”

He didn’t look especially happy to see me, and I didn’t blame him.  What appraiser loses her camera and comes back with a throwaway camera to redo the pictures?  And then has her stolen camera become the apparent basis for a home burglary.

I reached into the floor of my car’s back seat and pulled out the vase of flowers.  “I thought I’d bring a peace offering.”

“Goodness, it wasn’t your fault someone stole your camera,” Caroline said.  She was walking the few steps down from the deck and held her hand out for the small vase.  “They smell wonderful.”  Caroline Parker was petite and lithe at the same time and her light brown hair practically shone in the sunshine.  I sucked in my tummy a bit.

“Come on up and have some iced tea,” Ralph said, gesturing to one of several chairs on the deck.

My flowers seemed to have wilted his reserve, so I sat and Caroline placed the vase of flowers on their expensive-looking picnic table on the deck.  “I appreciate your attitude, but I still feel very badly about the burglary.  You had so much taken.”

Ralph waved his
hand.  “Nothing that couldn’t be replaced.”

“They even left my purse,” Caroline said.

“I yes, v
ok the tea she poured for me.  “Harry said that’s one reason the police thought they studied the photos and planned from there.”

Ralph nodded.  “We’ve decided that our next house will not have our name on a sign out front.  Though I suppose they could have found us anyway.  I’m sure Harry told you we declined his company’s offer to pay our five-hundred dollar deductible.”

Funny he didn’t mention that
.  All I said was, “That’s generous of you.” 
I wonder if Harry cashed my check?
“I know money can’t fully replace what you had.”

Caroline’s face lit up.  “Oh, we’re getting a lot of it back.  They found it in a pawn shop in Newark.  It will be awhile, though.  The police said they want to see if it’s tied to any other thefts.”

“They seem to think there could be a few thieves working together, stealing things and pawning them in different towns,” Ralph said.  “In fact, they borrowed our security tapes to see if they can identify anyone.”  He shrugged.  “I doubt they will.  I looked at them.  The people had on hooded sweatshirts and huge sunglasses.  You can’t even tell if they’re men or women.”

TWO DAYS AGO I’D never thought of looking at anyone’s security tapes, and now I was interested in two sets of tapes.  Not that I’d be able to see the ones from the Parker’s house.  I was still thinking about who I could convince to let me see their tapes when I pulled into Point Pleasant.  My plan was to let Turk see me and hope he wouldn’t ignore me.  I’d find a way to tell him Scoobie was doing much better but couldn’t remember what had happened after he left the Sandpiper the night he got hurt.  For effect, I’d say he couldn’t even remember much of that entire day.  That would let Turk know he didn’t need to worry about Scoobie saying anything that would implicate Turk — whether about selling joints or pushing people down stairs.  Scoobie would be safe.

In the meantime, George’s story aside, I needed to find a way to tell Sgt. Morehouse about Turk seeming to follow Scoobie out of the Sandpiper and Penny definitely following Turk.  I hadn’t worked out how to let Morehouse know I knew this.  If Lester told Ramona about the tapes, then Morehouse or Tortino would know the same day, and I could honestly tell George I didn’t mention the security tapes to the police.  I hoped Lester would tell her.

One month ago I’d have ratted out George on anything that would get him in hot water.  Now that he might find out something I wanted to know, I’d have to keep my more petty inclinations to myself.  And Scoobie did seem to like him a lot.

My cell phone chirped as I got out of my car at the Point Pleasant carnival site, which was on a large lot at the edge of town. 

“Where are you?” George asked.

“I’ll be back in town in a bit,” I said, turning off the car.

“You’re up to something,” he said.

I didn’t bother to ask why everyone said the same thing to me.  “I thought of a way to keep Turk away from Scoobie.”

“So where
are
you?” he asked.

“Not too far out of town,” I said.

“Damn it, Jolie.  I don’t know whether to be madder because you’re being shady or because you might get to part of the story before I do.”

“It’s not a story to me,” I said, slamming my car door.  I could feel my face redden with every step I took toward the carnival entrance.  “It’s not a game, George.  It’s about…”

“Keeping Scoobie, all of us, safe.  I get that.  Did you stop to think what you’re doing could work against that?”

“I’ll see you later, George.”  I hung up the phone and did not answer when he called three more times.

THIS CARNIVAL SITE WAS more similar to the set-up in Ocean Alley than the one in Asbury Park.  It was smaller, without the kiddie roller coaster.  The booths were more crammed together, so that I sometimes had to step sideways to pass a cluster of people buying tickets for the rides or waiting in line for food.

I hadn’t bothered with my baseball cap or large sunglasses.  I wanted to be seen.  After a quick walk-through I spotted Turk at the Ferris Wheel.  Idly I wondered why he’d been at the High Striker in Ocean Alley, if only briefly, and decided carnival workers need potty breaks, too. 
If only he hadn’t been there, if only Scoobie hadn’t seen him.