Stiffs and Swine (11 page)

“Guess that’s the end of Jimmy for a while,” James said derisively.

“Is that guy nuts?” Bennett said once they had left the cooking area. “I know the sun isn’t shining and there’s a breeze blowin’, but how can he be cold? It’s August and Jimmy’s got enough extra blubber on him to keep a few Arctic walruses nice and snug.” He squeezed his own belly. “I know I’ve got plenty to spare, too, but I’ve got nothin’ on that man.”

James felt a stress headache approaching. “Jimmy’s a strange one. You saw how volatile he was with Hailey. Maybe he
has
killed someone.”

“Well, we’re going to have to get the story from Gillian. I have a feeling Jimmy would only lie to us anyway,” Bennett said. “I don’t know what made me think he’d just spill the whole story to us.”

“Well, Jimmy obviously knows Gillian. You heard what he mumbled to himself. And what about confessing and repenting to Hailey?” James asked cynically.

Bennett rolled his eyes. “Oh, I think Hailey is being hand-fed a serious tall tale right about now.”

“Come on.” James quickened his stride as they headed toward the parking lot. “I think those clouds are getting ready to dump on us.”

“Looks that way,” Bennett agreed. “Let’s get back to the inn, get some coffee, and sit down with the ladies. I bet by now they’ve straightened out this whole mess and are waiting with a logical explanation for Gillian’s loony behavior.”

“I’ve got my doubts about everything being sorted out, but there should be coffee at any rate,” James answered wearily.

James knocked on the door of the hotel room shared by Lindy, Lucy, and Gillian, but received no answer. Shrugging, he retraced his steps back to the first floor and dialed Lucy’s cell phone number.

“James?” She sounded breathless.

“Did you find her?” he asked.

“No.” The word was infused with disappointment. “We’re just coming back from one of the walking trails behind the inn. Where are you?”

“Standing in the lobby,” he said. “We spied on Jimmy a bit, but we didn’t actually talk to him. We still have no idea what’s going on.”

“Me neither. The dog people weren’t much help. Most of them received Gillian’s brochure and have been pretty preoccupied dreaming about doggie palaces. They all told me basically the same thing—that Gillian was pleasant and
very
energetic. Sounds like she was her normal self.” Lucy sighed. “Apparently she and that lady who spit on Jimmy’s cooker yesterday were quite chummy, but I couldn’t track that woman down.”

“So there were no leads from that group at all?”

“I’m not sure of anything, but meet us on the back porch,” Lucy ordered. “Eleanor is serving an afternoon tea. She said a lot of people come back from the festival to relax a bit before returning for dinner and an evening of entertainment, so you’d better claim a table for us.” She paused. “I think it’s going to rain any second now. Maybe Gillian will just show up when it does. We can have her favorite tea ready and waiting.”

James hung up and followed Lucy’s advice. He and Bennett returned to their room, scooped up their books, and hustled downstairs to the back porch where they draped pool towels over three of the empty chairs at their table. James did his best to concentrate on a chapter entitled
The Great Meat Debate
, which examined the East Coast notion that pork was the superior meat to use when barbecuing, versus the Kansas City and Texan claims that beef made a better choice. Bennett seemed absorbed by his trivia book, but when Eleanor stepped onto the long porch bearing a tray laden with sandwiches, he snapped his head around at the sound of her footfall.

“The cakes aren’t quite done yet,” Eleanor stated with a tired smile. “You’re welcome to some sandwiches if you’re feeling peckish, however.”

James observed the proprietor as she fanned out a pile of cocktail napkins. He wondered if Eleanor and her daughter were on speaking terms yet. He knew that the pig parade was scheduled to begin at eight p.m. and that it would be followed by a fireworks display. Hopefully, the weather would cooperate or there’d be no pyrotechnics. The makeup covering the marks on Francesca’s neck would need to be waterproof.

This day has turned out to be very unfestival-like,
James thought. Between Eleanor and Francesca’s fight, Gillian’s eruption, the demonstration of Hailey and Jimmy’s conflicted relationship, and the rain that was sure to send R. C. into a state of panic, the aura of celebration had turned rather dour.

Bennett scraped his chair back and closed his book, interrupting James’s ruminations. “I can’t focus,” he declared and jerked his thumb at the buffet table. “Want some grub?”

“Sure,” James answered gratefully. “Looks like cucumber sandwiches up there. Can you get me a couple? They seem kind of small.”

In fact, each sandwich was easily consumed in two hearty bites. James wolfed down three and then licked his fingers. “These are terrific. I like how one piece of bread is rye and the other one’s white. I think I taste fresh chives in the cream cheese, too.”

Bennett nodded. “Nothin’ like good food to take your mind off your troubles.”

At that moment, Lindy and Lucy arrived. Both women were pink-cheeked from their brisk walk on the nature trail. James watched as the hopeful light in both of their faces was extinguished as they noted the three empty chairs at the table.

“She hasn’t come back?” Lindy’s question was rhetorical. Instead of responding, Bennett handed her a plate of sandwiches. As the group concentrated on their food, Eleanor appeared on the porch with an urn of tea, followed by a woman wearing a maid’s uniform who carried a platter bearing tiny cakes and homemade oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies.

“The tea has a subtle hint of almonds,” Eleanor announced to the guests gathering on the porch. “It’s very refreshing.”

Bennett served himself a steaming cup and a selection of desserts. Back at their table, he picked up the cup, blew on the surface of the hot tea, and then replaced it in the saucer without taking a sip. “Here we are, eating a vegetarian snack and drinkin’ herbal tea, and the one person in the world who would be tickled pink by this spread isn’t with us.”

The supper club members exchanged glum looks and quietly ate their food. In the distance, thunder rumbled and the treetops beyond the pool shifted back and forth in the strengthening wind.

“Maybe the rain will bring her back,” Lucy murmured.

But when the downpour began a few minutes later, causing excited shrieks from some of the other guests who scrambled to move their chairs farther away from the open air, there was still no sign of Gillian. Her friends stared into the curtains of rain and silently waited.

Inn at Fox Hall’s Checkerboard Cucumber
Cream Cheese and Chive Sandwiches

20 slices cucumber, peeled and sliced very thinly

salt

1 (3-ounce) package cream cheese, softened

1⁄2 teaspoon dried chives (or fresh, if available)

10 slices crustless rye bread (tea-sized)

10 slices crustless white bread (tea-sized)

Sprinkle the cucumbers with salt and set them in a colander to drain for at least 1 hour. Stir the cream cheese and chives in small bowl. For each sandwich, spread 1 slice of rye bread with the cream cheese mixture. Layer 1 slice of white bread with 2 cucumber slices. Cover with the rye bread slice, cream cheese side down. Cut in half to form two triangles.

The rain pelted
down all afternoon. By early evening, it slacked off and became a light drizzle, hinting at the possibility of ceasing altogether. The storm had mottled the ground with patches of muddy puddles. Leaves and dead branches dislodged from the trees by a determined wind were scattered everywhere.

James had napped for almost two hours. His lack of sleep from the previous night, combined with the steady rhythm of the rain, made it impossible to resist. At first he had gone to his room, intending to read until Gillian returned. Four sentences into the chapter describing the marinades meant to be injected into a piece of meat in order to increase the overall flavor, his lids grew heavy as anvils. It was easy to surrender to the darkened room and the absence of the sonorous noises produced by his roommate the night before.

When he woke, it was with a stab of guilt that he had slept while Gillian might have been wandering, upset and alone, in the unrelenting downpour. He hoped that she had made herself cozy in one of the town shops and that she was now safely back at the inn, ready to explain everything to her friends over dinner.

At quarter to six, just a few minutes after James sat up in bed and ran his fingers through his disheveled light brown hair, Bennett burst into the room. “We’re headin’ down to the festival. Gillian still hasn’t come back. The girls have spent the last hour combin’ through every store in town but no dice. She isn’t there.” He checked his reflection in the mirror and tucked his shirt further into his pants, eyeing the paunch around his waist critically.

James rubbed the sleep from his eyes and grabbed his wallet and the room key from the nightstand. “Is it still overcast?”

Nodding, Bennett pulled a windbreaker from his leather satchel. “I thought I was packin’ like a little old lady when I stuffed this in my bag. Who knew that an August evening in southern Virginia could raise goose bumps?”

Lindy and Lucy were waiting for the men by Lucy’s Jeep. Lucy wore a sweatshirt bearing the crest of the Shenandoah County Sheriff’s Department while Lindy was decked out in a black sweater trimmed with a faux fur collar. James pulled a face as Lucy opened the back door and indicated they should slide in. Noting his grimace, Lucy gave James a rough push on the back. “Don’t worry, James. I cleaned it out before we left Quincy’s Gap.”

James blushed, for Lucy had known that his hesitation in entering her car was based on the fact that its interior typically resembled an overturned garbage can and often smelled just as bad. Her sloppiness had been one of the things he liked least about dating her. Her home, her yard, and her car were always in a constant state of disarray, and though James didn’t care if things were a little untidy, he drew the line at rotting food or surfaces made sticky with soda dregs or flattened pieces of chewing gum mottled with dog hair. Thinking of his failed relationship with Lucy reminded James that he should check in with Murphy at some point, but that could wait until Gillian was found.

The four friends rode to the fairgrounds in silence. As they approached the parking area, Lindy unfolded a piece of paper containing a listing of the evening’s events. “I’m trying to figure out if Gillian would be interested in any of tonight’s entertainment,” she told the others. “There’s the parade, of course, followed by a country music concert. Other than those two things, it’s just the usual rides and carnival games and stuff.”

“No animal shows?” Lucy asked.

Lindy shook her head. “No. The dog show happened this morning and there was a SpongeBob production for kids this afternoon, but I really can’t see Gillian sitting through that.”

“I don’t get that SpongeBob cartoon one bit,” Bennett mumbled. “No wonder kids today are so mixed up. How are they supposed to learn life lessons from a bunch of ugly underwater invertebrates?”

“And which cartoon do you think teaches kids anything?” Lindy raised her plucked eyebrows in curiosity.

“Me, I’m a Peanuts fan. Charlie Brown could teach us all a thing or two,” Bennett replied as Lucy pulled into a parking space.

James said, “Looks like the lot is still full. I guess the rain only scared folks off for a short while.” Drawing in a breath of the refreshing evening air, he listened to the cacophony of sounds rising from the festival. There was music, the expected rumble of unintelligible announcements emanating through the PA system, and the ever-present murmur of the crowd. James gazed at the rows of lights in the distance. “Where should we go first?”

“Let’s find R. C. He may be able to contact his staff with his walkie-talkie and find out if anyone’s seen Gillian,” Lucy suggested.

“Brilliant idea.” James smiled at her. “We’re lucky to have a sheriff’s deputy with us.”

Lucy’s face glowed with pleasure.

The foursome walked to the recreation center with care. The mass of humanity had clearly reformed with the break in the weather and hundreds of feet had quickly flattened the wet grass and expanded the stretches of mud. Every now and then a child would break free from his parents’ grasp in order to splash in one of the numerous puddles. As the supper club members passed the petting farm area, a little boy missing both of his front teeth sprayed James’s khaki pants with brown water. Eyeing his dirt-splattered pants in dismay, James wondered why he hadn’t had the foresight to change into jeans before leaving the inn.

Lindy chuckled at his distress. “See? You should have brought extra outfits! You’d better hope Fox Hall has a washing machine.”

By the time they had made their way to the recreation center, however, Lindy’s good humor had vanished and she was quite cross. Her new wedge sandals were caked with mud and several petals from the fabric flowers that had been attached to the center of each shoe had disappeared.

“Damn it!” Lindy frowned unhappily at her footwear. As they entered the building, she did her best to wipe off the mud using the textured doormats. “These are totally ruined!” she bleated once inside.

R. C., who was seated behind the receptionist’s desk, examining the document spread before him, looked up in alarm. “Did you say rain? It hasn’t started again, has it?”

Lucy hastily assured the frazzled director that the sky was totally free of precipitation and then went on to ask for his assistance in locating Gillian. She briefly told him everything that had happened after the brisket competition had ended.

A crease appeared on R. C.’s brow. “Yes, I heard about what your friend said to Mr. Lang. I have to admit that I find the whole story very disturbing.” He paused, rubbing the crown of his head where James imagined a strong headache must be blooming. “At one time, Jimmy was good for this festival. His, eh, larger-than-life persona used to be a draw. His cooking skills were above average, but it was the way he made such a big show of everything he did that caused people to gather around his grill.” He mopped his forehead with a bandana. “Now, I fear, he’s become more of a detriment to this festival, especially if he’s a convicted felon.”

“Um,” Lindy stammered. “We’re not completely sure that our friend’s accusation is true. She—”

“Whether Gillian’s got a screw loose or not, Jimmy Lang has been to jail,” Bennett interrupted. “He and his girlfriend met in some ex-con talk-about-your-feelings session.”

R. C. gave Bennett a searching look. “How do you know that?”

Bennett launched into a coughing fit while glancing at James out of the corner of his eye.

“Um, we kind of overheard Jimmy and Hailey talking outside their camper,” James explained cryptically. “We all split up to look for Gillian. Bennett and I were searching the campground area,” he added, stretching the truth. “And that was hours ago. There’s been no sign of her since.”

Picking up a pen from the desk, R. C. said, “I know your friend has light skin and a full head of reddish-orange hair, but what other details can I add to her description?”

“Her full name is Gillian O’Malley,” Lucy said. “She’s approximately five foot six. Forty years old. Thin legs. Barrel-chested. Wearing a long, silver skirt, lime-green T-shirt, and an armload of silver bracelets. Carrying a hemp purse stitched with butterflies.” Lucy turned to her friends. “Did I leave anything out?”

Impressed, the other supper club members shook their heads as R. C. relayed her words verbatim via his walkie-talkie to the large group of workers running the festival. When most of them reported back that they hadn’t seen a woman matching Gillian’s description recently, R. C. requested that they all keep a sharp lookout for her and immediately report any sighting to him.

Lucy thanked R. C. profusely and then handed him her cell phone number. “Please call me if anyone spots her.”

R. C. noticed the concern etched on Lucy’s face and responded by squeezing her lightly on the shoulder. “Why don’t you all get something to eat? By the time supper is over, I’m sure someone will run across your friend.”

The four friends wandered down the mud and water-streaked road flanked by the merchant’s booths and the food vendors. No one spoke up as they passed one illuminated sign after another advertising fried chicken, beef hot dogs, Angus burgers, barbecued ribs, turkey legs, seasoned cheese fries, and personal pan pizzas. They were too focused on looking at the faces in the crowd to concentrate on any particular food.

“Let’s go to that stand where Gillian had lunch,” Lindy suggested. “Who knows? Maybe she really liked it and will go back there for dinner.”

“They better serve somethin’ else besides chickpeas,” Bennett muttered.

“They’ve got gyros or chicken souvlaki platters,” Lindy assured him.

When they reached the vendor’s booth, entitled the Falafel Tent, they each ordered the gyro platter and a large Coke. Lucy found an empty picnic table nearby and they settled themselves down to eat, speaking little as they kept their eyes fixed on the passersby.

“Is this meal a good choice for the protein diet?” James asked Lucy. He wasn’t particularly interested, but was merely trying to jump-start a conversation.

“If you stick to just the lamb and the salad. That rice isn’t necessary. I probably should have gotten the souvlaki platter, as chicken is a much leaner meat than lamb, but I’ve been eating lots of chicken this summer. Shoot, I’ll starting clucking if I swallow another piece of poultry.” She took a bite of seasoned lamb and a glob of yogurt sauce fell onto the swell of her right breast. James watched as she dabbed at her cleavage and then quickly looked away, embarrassed by an unbidden memory of running his fingers over Lucy’s soft skin.

“So here we are. Friday night at the fair,” Bennett mumbled, checking his watch.

“That’s right, it’s Friday!” James wiped his mouth with his napkin and removed his cell phone from his pocket. “I’ve got to check in with the Fitzgerald twins just to make sure that nonsense with the high school kids is really over. Be right back.”

“If they’ve been making fake IDs, I’m going to be very interested in learning some of their names.” Lucy issued him a dark look.

“I don’t have any hard proof,” James said, getting up from the table. “The IDs just seemed the most logical explanation. If I’m right about my theory, then the kids won’t be hanging out at our branch anymore. I’ll have scared them off.”

“That doesn’t mean they won’t
use
the IDs they
already
made,” Lucy replied judgmentally.

“Oh, I doubt they’re any good.” Excusing himself, James wandered into the empty judging tent and dialed the circulation desk’s extension. Scott answered right away.

“I had a feeling you might check in on us, Professor.” Scott greeted his boss with his customary cheerfulness.