Murder at the Art & Craft Fair (4 page)

Chapter Six

Other than get a haircut on Friday to look my best for
my Jennifer, I didn’t do much the rest of the week except read. When I returned
home from getting a haircut,
that woman,
Heloise Humphert, my next-door
neighbor,
was standing in her yard with a rake in her hand, waiting for
the first leaves of the year to fall. Her varmint, Twinkle Toes, was poised
next to her, eager to do something to those leaves. Her Ugliness didn’t see me until
the last minute, which caused her to panic and step on her rake, which conked
her on the noggin. She stumbled back and fell down, but was soon given CPR by
an eager French poodle. What made everything even more hilarious was that
Heloise Humphert doesn’t even have any trees in her front yard. But then I’d
never thought of her as the smartest apple in the fruit bowl. I made a mental
note to tell my yard boy to rake my leaves into her yard so she would have
something to do.

+++

I went to bed a little early on Friday night, knowing
that I’d have a long day and night on Saturday, and I wasn’t sure if I’d get a
nap between the day and evening activities. Before I went to bed, I set the
alarm, something I detest, but felt I needed to do it. I wanted to be ready
when Lou came to pick me up at 7:45. See, when it’s just the two of us, I drive
my VW. But when Lou and I double date, he drives his red, 1957 Chevy, because
it’s roomier. I like that, because I’d rather have two arms around my date,
rather than one, and I don’t have a steering wheel in my way when we take Lou’s
car. Of course Lou always slides over to Thelma Lou’s side of the car unless
his first stop is the concession stand.

+++

Lou showed up promptly at 7:45. He was grinning as I
stepped out the front door and headed to his Chevy. I was dressed much better
than Jon Arbuckle when he goes on a date with the doc. No ugly plaid coats and
bowties for me. No Garfield, either.

I glanced next-door and was relieved not to see Her
Ugliness. I assumed that she survived her fall okay, although she could have
been able to stumble indoors and die. I sniffed to see if I could smell a
decomposing body. I couldn’t tell. There’s always a stench coming from her
house. Besides, she wouldn’t have decomposed that quickly.

My thoughts turned to something much more pleasant, my
Jennifer. I decided to play with Lou’s mind and opened the back door of his car
instead of the front. I got in and sat down.

“To the airport, and step on it.”

“As you wish, Sir, but please tell me, how does one
step on an airport?”

“Impudence! See if I leave you a tip.”

Lou made a motion like he was turning the meter on,
and backed out of the driveway.

“Oh, did you hear, Cy? Jennifer couldn’t make it. She
sent her sister, instead. The one with the skull and crossbones tattoo on her
neck.”

“Splendid! Just the place to give someone a hickey.”

“Your next-door neighbor didn’t slip out and give you
a goodbye kiss before I arrived, did she?”

“Why? Has my face broken out?”

“No, just a couple of guys you put away for life, who
said they’d get even.”

I shared with Lou about my neighbor’s fiasco with the
rake. He started to laugh and then caught himself. He remembered how God always
seems to punish me anytime I enjoy myself at her expense and Lou didn’t want
the same thing happen to him. I too stopped laughing, and shot up a brief
prayer where I hoped my neighbor got better, and soon. I stopped myself before
I thought that she couldn’t get any worse.

“So, Cy, you have any strategy on how we can make our
day more palatable?”

“I do, but I don’t think Jennifer will go along with
it. I guess I’ll just have to be patient and thank the Lord for the nighttime.”

Lou started singing the Neil Diamond song and I was
sorry for my choice of words. I hope his off-key imitation didn’t lead to a
rendition of Diamond’s greatest hits. Thankfully, he stopped after one verse,
probably because he didn’t know all the words.

“Just don’t misbehave too much today. I don’t want to
share the front seat with you at the drive-in.”

After a little more nonsense, we arrived at Thelma
Lou’s place and dismounted quickly. I wasn’t in any hurry to take in the art
and craft fair, but I was eager to feast my eyes upon My Jennifer. My lips,
too.

We stepped into the house and I gulped. No, Jennifer
hadn’t opted for a Mohawk haircut, or changed her hair color to something that
resembled sunburned cotton candy. But the dining room table was covered with a
spread so prolific that I knew that I’d have to Wii twenty-four hours on Monday
just to get back to what I weighed on Friday. At least there was some fresh
fruit to go with the sausage gravy and biscuits, bacon, sausage, eggs, and hash
browns. Maybe Jennifer and I could take our time feeding each other fruit and
nibbling on each other’s fingers.

Her Loveliness sashayed over to me and put her arms
around me. We gave each other passionate lip massages until I heard a gagging
sound from my male friend. We parted long enough for Jennifer to stick out her
tongue at him, and then we kissed again. We received a few comments from the
peanut gallery before sitting down to eat.

We ate at a leisurely pace more recognizable in a
lady. This allowed us time to talk about our weekend. Somehow I kept from
choking on my food when the girls said something about staying at the art and
craft fair however long it takes. I figured I could do the whole gamut in ten
to fifteen minutes. After all, there were only somewhere around ninety booths.
It wasn’t like we were going to be tested on this on Monday. I wasn’t going to
take notes, and I didn’t plan to drop my entire life savings in one day. A
quick glance would be enough to let me know if I was interested in anything
some guy had to sell. I didn’t expect to buy much, but there might be a bargain
somewhere.

The girls wouldn’t talk about anything except the art
and craft fair. I wanted to change the subject, so I interrupted the dragging
conversation.

“Does anyone know what’s showing at the drive-in?”

“Does anyone care?” Jennifer cooed, before turning to
me to give me a quick taste of whatever food lingered on her lips. Actually,
there was no food on hers, but a smattering of this and that on mine.

Lou turned to Thelma Lou.

“Were we ever that bad?”

“You were once. Want to try for it again?”

Lou grinned, then did the best he could to imitate
what Jennifer and I had done earlier. I must say it was a poor imitation, but
then Lou is only a lowly sergeant who falls behind me in most endeavors.

About a quarter to nine Jennifer looked at her watch
and Thelma Lou did the same. I think that was our cue that if we didn’t hurry
we wouldn’t be the first to arrive. Lou and I did our best to help. We stayed
out of the way while the women loaded the dishwasher. It wasn’t that we didn’t
know how, but that they were used to doing it. Loading the dishwasher was
something I’d learned to do when I started eating more at home. It wasn’t that
hard. After all, I’d been loading my washer and dryer for years. I didn’t want
someone else to see my underwear.

Chapter
Seven

I had no idea what to expect, since I’d always managed
to avoid the Hilldale Art & Craft Fair. Lou drove toward the park downtown,
and I soon learned that there were a lot of misguided people in Hilldale. At
least there were that day. We offered to drop the women off across the street
from the park, but they insisted on walking with us. I wasn’t sure if that had
more to do with how much they enjoyed our company or how afraid they were that
we would take our sweet time finding a place to park and strolling back to the
park. Lou found a place a couple of blocks away, and he and I got out and
walked around the car to open the doors for the girls. I didn’t figure it was
going to be the worst day of my life, and at that time I didn’t realize that it
was going to be a much better day than any of the next few days would be.

Hilldale City Park sets almost in the middle of
downtown, and is bordered on one side by the courthouse. The opposite side of
the park faces some of the downtown businesses. Large homes, almost a century
old, line the other two sides of the park. The park is large enough and the
trees are plentiful enough that you can’t see all the way across the park. A
slight incline from right to left inhibits one’s view, too. Thelma Lou had been
to the art and craft fair a few times, so she showed us the best place to enter
the park, so that we could visit each of the booths in order. I wondered what
would happen if we went out of order. I didn’t want to find out. At the Main
Street entrance on the right side of the park, or as we were to know it that
weekend, the place in the park closest to Booth 1, a couple of people were
handing out booklets that had a map of the event and the names of the vendors
and what each one sold. Hilldale merchants bought advertising in the booklet,
in hope that each of us who attended would remember our merchants in case we
had any money left after we left the park. I planned to have money left,
although I did plan to buy Jennifer a small trinket to commemorate the event.
At least I hoped that some of the trinkets were small, or at least had a small
price tag. I didn’t mind paying a couple of dollars more than I could buy
something similar at Wal-Mart, because I figured that those vendors who made
their stuff were somewhat more adept than those children in China who made most
of the goods I purchased at Wal-Mart, on those rare occasions I did buy
something from the state of Arkansas’s best known retailer.

I was pleased that Thelma Lou, our ringleader, and
Jennifer, her partner in deception, walked briskly as we entered the park. I
soon learned they had used all of their energy by the time we arrived at Booth
1. Lou and I slowed our pace to resemble that of an octogenarian with arthritis
using a walker with one flat wheel. Still, Thelma Lou said, “Where are you two
off to so fast?”

When I said, “The next booth. Nothing in this one
interests us,” I soon learned we had a split decision. Their look told me. I
quickly recovered.

“Oh, I didn’t realize that you like soy candles.”

I had no idea what soy candles were, but I knew that weird
people like soy, and sometimes ate it. I hoped Jennifer and Thelma Lou hadn’t
developed a taste for candles. I soon learned, as Jennifer replied.

“I’m not sure that we do, but it would be rude not to
look.”

I thought it would be rude to block those people who
wanted to buy soy candles, just in case there were any in Hilldale, but I
refrained from voicing my opinion. Besides, my two-second scan of the booth was
enough that I felt I could pass the quiz on Monday. I wasn’t about to ask if
soy candles were superior to normal ones. I was afraid of a dissertation. If we
received a dissertation at every booth we wouldn’t make it to the drive-in on
time to get a spot on the back row. I thought about volunteering to stop by my
place and pick up Lightning and go on to the drive-in to save our back row
spot, but I liked my teeth the way they were. Besides, there’s nothing worse
than spending time at the drive-in with a woman who’s upset with you, unless
it’s spending time at the drive-in with a woman who’s upset with you and the
pouring rain is keeping you from visiting the concession stand or watching the
movie. I wasn’t about to glance over to see what was being sold at Booth 2,
either. I would have an hour or so to do that after while. After three minutes
on my slow-moving watch, or what seemed like a couple of hours, Jennifer and
Thelma Lou asked us if we were ready to move on to the second booth. I thought
of answering, “Not quite,” but again remembered how well I liked my present
dental work.

It took Jennifer and Thelma Lou only two booths to
notice that men and women are wired differently. Actually, I think they already
knew this, but they were about to make us an offer we wouldn’t refuse.
Actually, the idea was mine, but they readily agreed.

“Say, girls, Lou and I were thinking about buying you
a little something. What say that Lou and I walk on ahead and see if we see
anything you might like? According to this map, there are fifteen booths that
face each other on each row, and there are benches to sit down at both ends of
each row. The two of us can check out each row, see if we see anything you
might like, and then wait for you on one of the benches. When you catch up to
us, you can tell us about anything you saw that you might like and after we get
through with all ninety booths on the three rows we can go back and buy you
something nice.”

The two looked at each other, read each other’s facial
expression, and then turned to us and said, “Okay.” They also told us to look
for something we might like. Lou and I each hugged our girl in a manner
appropriate for public display and moved on. While I didn’t plan to linger
longer than necessary at any booth, I wanted to look at each one long enough
that I could pass a quiz when the girls caught up with us sometime the next
day. I relayed my thoughts to Lou, who concurred.

Booth 3 sold doll clothes, and after a quick
conference, Lou and I deduced that both of the girls were too big for doll
clothes. However, a look at Booth 4 made me stop and think.

“Lou, have you ever noticed if Jennifer wears
jewelry?”

“Cy, Jennifer is your girl. Thelma Lou is mine.”

“Well, does Thelma Lou wear jewelry?”

“Maybe we should go back to Jennifer.”

“So, what you’re saying is you don’t know about Thelma
Lou, either. I guess we’d better look in this booth, just in case.”

A sign hanging in each booth let everyone know who the
vendor was, what they sold, and where they were from. Of course I was smart
enough to know that this particular booth sold jewelry. Lou and I made small
talk with the two women there, and found out the vendors were mother and
daughter, Bonnie Crouch and Lisa Kingsley, and the sign said they were from
Lexington, Kentucky. I’m not that knowledgeable about jewelry, but their stuff
looked good to me. And from the way all the women hovered over it and many of
them purchased something, most women must like it, too. Lou and I stood back,
waited for a parting of the women, and then took a look. The two women could
tell that neither Lou nor I could tell a bracelet from a necklace, so they told
us a little about their jewelry. It was made from clay. Kind of like me. Baked
in an oven. Kind of like me. Only most people would refer to me, or my ideas,
as half-baked. I told the two women what we were doing, and then made a
notation on the booklet I was given, and moved on.

The next booth was easy. Candy. Everyone likes candy.
And the guy was willing to let me try it for free. Not a whole box, but a piece
or two. His name was Michael Jackson. He looked nothing like the other one.
This Mike Jackson was from Preston, Kentucky, wherever that is, and I was glad
I sampled his candy. Mike Jackson made the best cream candy I’d ever tasted.
And his wife, Kelsie, was quick to let me know that he made it, not her. They
had four flavors. I didn’t have to wait for Jennifer to make a decision on the
candy. I bought two boxes and planned to share my candy with others. After all,
there’s only so much Wiiing a man can do in one day. I didn’t want to go
through a new Wii board each month.

Even though it was still warm outside, it wasn’t hard
to tell it was October. So many vendors had items for sale that had to do with
Halloween or a fall theme. Many of them were made out of wood. And orange and
black were the prominent colors. Many items were pumpkins, witches, ghosts, and
other things you could impale into your yard, but I’d never been one to
decorate for Halloween. I thought about buying a few things and sticking them
in my next-door neighbor’s yard, because she always looks like Halloween and
she could use them year around. I looked at one of the witches and was sure my
neighbor posed while the artist painted it. I saw a coffin, thought about
buying it, then felt God looking over my shoulder.

Lou and I had almost completed our jaunt past the
first fifteen booths when I noticed the man working in the last booth looking
at us. The sign said John King, Lexington, Kentucky, Sand Art. I wondered if he
knew the mother-daughter team we’d encountered earlier. Both were vendors and
from Lexington. They probably did several shows together. I couldn’t picture
someone doing one show a year and then retiring. If so, I needed to find out if
there was anything I could do.

I didn’t know much about sand art. It came along much
after Lou and I did. At least, I don’t remember ever having the opportunity to
do something like that as a kid. Two kids had just completed their projects and
turned to their mothers with  looks of satisfaction on their faces. Both the
boy and the girl thought their sand art was the best sand art anyone had ever
done. I think Lou and I must have lingered too long, because the man in the
booth spoke to us.

“You ever done any sand art?”

We admitted that we had not.

“Well, I’m trying to get more adults interested in
seeing how much fun sand art can be, and I’m willing to let the two of you
create your own masterpiece. You don’t have to pay me a thing.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Most of our customers are kids. Maybe if some adults
see you trying it, they might try, too. It might help my business.”

I turned to Lou, and the look on his face said, “Why
not?” It would give us the chance to mark something off our bucket list that
was never actually on that list. I turned around to see if the girls had caught
up with us and saw them ogling over something a couple of states back. It
looked like they wouldn’t catch up to us before many moons passed.

“Okay, we’re game.”

John King had each of us select the see-through
plastic housing for our masterpiece. Neither of us wanted any dainty piece of
sand art, so we selected one of the larger possibilities. Then, John walked us
through the process, much like he would a kid. A few minutes later, relatively
pleased, both of us had completed our project. King held up a digital camera
and asked both of us to pose with our creations while he took our picture. I
was soon to learn how I’d been conned into something I would continue to pay
for, at least in the immediate future. Just as Lou and I were about to pick up
our artwork and turn away, a familiar voice spoke to us from just over my shoulder.

“So, what are you boys doing? Playing in the sand?
Miss your little sandbox, do you?”

I turned around ready to throw sand in George
Michaelson’s face.

“Uh, it’s for my nephew. He wasn’t able to come today.
Chicken pox. I thought this might cheer him up.”

“Lou’s nephew have chicken pox, too? Cy, you might not
have read this, but they say that people without brothers and sisters have
fewer nieces and nephews.”

Before I could answer, George leaned over the counter,
retrieved the camera that John King had used to take our picture, and George
told him to keep the change from the twenty he gave him. I wondered if I should
be more afraid that our picture would be in the newspaper, or if it made the
Internet. Either way I figured Lou and I were toast. My mind was already at
work wondering how we could get even with George. Shooting him was out of the
question. There were times we liked him. That day at the art and craft fair
wasn’t one of those days. I wondered if Lou and I could hire some kids to fork
his yard and toilet paper his trees. No, it would have to be something Lou and
I did ourselves, and I didn’t want to have to exert too much energy taking
advantage of George.