Foul Play at the Fair (8 page)

“What police?” Janine repeated. “At your house, Rose? Was there a robbery?” She looked from one person to the next, her eyes stopping and staying on Liv.

Fred shrugged. “I’m kind of curious myself.”

Andy suddenly became very busy rearranging the cauliflower display.

“No robbery,” Liv said. “Just a little emergency; everything should be back to normal soon.”

“So why were the police there? Is that where Bill Gunnison is? Just what is going on here? And who is protecting the town?” Janine’s strident voice had attracted the attention of the people at the next stand, which was just what she intended. She’d been determined to make Liv look bad from the day she had arrived.

One of them came over. “What’s all this talk about the police?”

“It’s nothing,” Liv told him. “But if you all keep saying ‘police’ at the top of your lungs, we won’t have a visitor left in town.”

“Oh,” said the newcomer, whom Liv finally placed as Dexter Kent, owner of the garden center out on Lakeside Road. He leaned in closer and everyone followed suit.

Liv suddenly felt claustrophobic. “Look,” she said, casting a quick glance at Andy and Rose, warning them to back her up. “It will all be cleared up, but it’s best if we leave it until tomorrow and concentrate on selling today.”

“Yeah,” Andy said, picking up his cue. “No big deal. Let’s sell some produce.”

Liv smiled and said good-bye, but when she was several vendors away she turned back to the group. Their heads were together, customers ignored. She had no doubt that they were pumping Andy for the details.

Their choice; their loss if people started bailing on the afternoon. Hopefully, they were savvy enough to keep it among townspeople and not let it drift to the tourists’ ears. Though she didn’t have such hope for Janine’s good sense.

She was sure to use the murder to make Liv look bad. Liv for the most part had been able to ignore Janine. In the scheme of things, she didn’t hold a candle to some of the witches Liv had dealt with in the city. But if Janine started hurting the
town, Liv would show her just what an ex-Manhattan event planner was made of.

Liv walked back to the park where everything seemed perfectly normal. So far, so good. With any luck they’d get through today without the news leaking out.

She was surprised to see the Zoldosky stage set up and Anton and one of the brothers practicing their act as if nothing were wrong, only today instead of bowling pins they were juggling odd objects: an ax, one bowling pin, and a plate. The disfigured brother was sitting in his normal place, twisting a yellow balloon into an elaborate form.

Their presence seemed a little coldhearted in light of Pete’s demise. Of course, Pete wasn’t really a brother, and Liv guessed whatever his relationship to them was, they weren’t mourning him.

As she watched, another figure sauntered toward them and alarm bells clanged in her head. Of all the people she didn’t expect to see at the festival, didn’t want to see, the laziest newspaper editor in New York State, today of all days, had decided to do his job.

And Liv had to stop him.

“Mr. Bristow!” Liv hurried to head him off.

He looked up and a wary expression invaded his face. His hair was sticking up and he hadn’t shaved. He looked like he hadn’t slept the night before; his face was drawn and his eyes were puffy. His jeans were baggy and his multi-pocketed khaki coat looked as if it had been smeared with—blood?

Liv’s step stuttered. No. Not possible. Was it? Her hand automatically went to her walkie-talkie.

Right, Liv. What are you going to do? Bash him over the head with it?
He surely didn’t have a motive for murder. The man couldn’t have been more than five years old when Pete Waterbury left town.

People around here have long memories
, Ted had said.

But not that long.

“Mr. Bristow,” she said, coming to a stop in front of him. She was vaguely aware of Anton Zoldosky looking up from where he’d just taken a bow. The balloon brother had stopped
twisting his animal shape and stared. And the other brother came to stand by his side.

“Ms. Montgomery,” Chaz drawled.

On closer inspection, she saw that the stains were indeed a combination of mud and blood. There was a dirty handkerchief tied around two of his fingers.

Now that she had his attention, she wasn’t sure what to do with him. She had to draw him away from the Zoldosky brothers on the outside chance that he wanted to ask them questions about the dead man. But she didn’t want to draw him too far from the crowd in case he’d actually murdered Pete Waterbury.

She was saved by the cavalry, in the person of her assistant, Ted. She breathed out a sigh of relief.

Chaz Bristow raised one eyebrow at her.

“Morning, Chaz,” Ted said just as easily as if he hadn’t seen a murdered man in situ just a few hours before. “Any luck?”

What? Ted was in league with Chaz Bristow?
Hell, even a lazy editor would take this info and run. It would be all over the front page tomorrow. Liv gave Ted a stern look, which made him frown.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Ted said.

“You’re not interrupting,” Chaz said. “At least, I don’t think you are. Did you want something, Ms. Montgomery?”

“Oh, I was just saying hello…and…wondering if you’d like me to answer any questions about the festival. You
will
be doing an article on it for the
Clarion
, won’t you?”

“Yes, Ms. Montgomery. But I don’t think I have any questions for you at this time. Actually, I was on my way to talk to the Zoldoskys.”

“No!” Liv blurted. “I mean, wouldn’t you like to do a piece on the farmers’ market? I could take you over.” It was the first thing to come to her head. And the farthest venue from the jugglers.

“There’s a farmers’ market just about every weekend from May to October. I think maybe it would make boring reading.”

Unlike the fishing reports
, Liv thought grumpily.

Ted was grinning.

“I’ll just come back later,” Chaz said and started to ease away.

“What happened to your hand?” Ted asked, indicating the bandaged fingers.

Chaz shook his head. “Stupid. Sliced them during a hell of a fight last night.”

Liv started. Pete Waterbury had been hit on the head. Not knifed. She’d seen the matted hair and the smear of blood left by the handkerchief. Bristow must have been in a bar brawl or something equally distasteful.

“Big one?”

“About eleven pounds.”

Eleven pounds? What?

“But he fought like a tiger, tangled himself up in the rushes so bad I had to cut the line and a couple of fingers.” He held up the bandaged hand.

“Better get them cleaned up.”

“I will. I was on my way home, just stopped to tell Junior to come by and get his half of the catch.” He turned to Liv. “Not only is he a whiz at balloon animals, he knows where to find the best night crawlers.”

Liv shivered. “Night crawlers?” They sounded hideous.

“Don’t tell me they don’t have night crawlers in Manhattan.” Chaz exchanged a grin with Ted.

“Sure we do,” Liv said. “And other low-life types. But I try not to frequent those kind of places.”

Chaz barked out a laugh. “I don’t know what the board of trustees was thinking.” He shook his head. “Boggles the mind.”

“He’s just goofing on you, Liv,” Ted told her. “Night
crawlers are earthworms; they come out at night, and they’re the perfect bait for catfish.”

“Catfish?”

“Yeah. Where did you think I was? Trawling the local bars?”

“Of course not.” Not exactly. Though she had to admit trawling bars was better than committing murder. He’d been out fishing. Of course. Where was her mind? “I thought fishing was canceled because of spawning salmon.”

“Not night trawling,” Chaz said, looking at her speculatively. “Though it’s nice to know you read my humble rag.”

Liv ground her teeth into a smile. “Well, I won’t keep you. Are you coming, Ted?”

“I’m all yours. Better go look after that hand, Chaz.” Ted joined her and they started across the lawn toward town hall. Liz forced herself not to look back to see where Chaz Bristow had gone.

“What was all that about?” Ted asked.

“What?”

“The run-in with Chaz? You really don’t like him, do you?”

“Oh, he’s all right, I guess. He’s just so blasé about everything, for which I suppose I should be thankful. When I saw him going toward the Zoldoskys, I was afraid he’d learned what happened and was going to interview them.”

“Oh, so you’ve heard about him.”

“Who?”

“Chaz.”

“Just what you told me. I figured the rest out all by myself. No great stretch.”

“Really,” said Ted. “Just what did you figure out?”

“Besides the fact that he’s a slob, lazy, and goes fishing at night? Are there more fascinating details I should know about?”

“Nope,” Ted said. “None at all.”

“How are the Waterburys holding up?” Liv asked.

Ted opened the town hall door for her. “I suppose the answer would be, as well as can be expected. Though no one ever expected this.” He turned on the lights to the office and they went in. “Joss hasn’t heard from his brother in over thirty years. Not a postcard or a phone call, according to him. Then suddenly to show up dead in his apple press…It doesn’t make any sense.” He looked around the office. “We forgot to pick up breakfast.”

“Rats,” Liv said. “Dolly hadn’t opened when I passed by earlier, and I was on my way there when I ran into Chaz.”

Ted looked up, eyes twinkling, “And everything else flew right out of your head?”

Liv gave him a sour look. “Yes, but not in the way you’re thinking. I was trying to avert disaster. I mean, we don’t need murder spread all over the front page.”

“Won’t be able to stop people from talking, Liv. This is Celebration Bay. Gossip is our meat and potatoes.”

Liv dropped into her desk chair. “How could this happen? I’m sorry for Joss’s loss, of course, not that he or the Zoldoskys seems to be mourning Pete’s demise. But think of the ramifications for the town. And—not to sound selfish but—for me.”

“You?”

“My first event here and there’s a murder. Everyone might think it’s my fault.” She sighed. “See, I told you: selfish.”

“Never, but if it’s any consolation, Pete Waterbury is no great loss. He was a bully and a conniver when he was a kid. I don’t think he’d changed at all.”

“I just wish he’d gotten killed in some other town.”

“I do, too. There’s bound to be trouble ahead.”

Liv looked up. “You mean somebody who lives in Celebration Bay may have killed him?”

Ted smiled ruefully. “Never slow on the uptake, are you?”

“No,” said Liv. “It’s a necessary skill for survival in a territorial, competitive business. But in this case, I think
ignorance would be bliss.” She sat up straighter. “They usually suspect the spouse or, in this case, the brother? Lord, you don’t think Bill will arrest Joss?”

“Not unless he has just cause.”

Liv eyed him speculatively. “You think he might have just cause?”

“Joss might have a motive for killing him. Like a lot of people in this town. Including me.” Ted’s mouth twitched. “I’ll go get breakfast.”

“Ted. Come back here.” It was too late; after dropping that bomb, Ted slipped out the door and was off to the bakery.

“Arghh,” Liv growled at the closed door. “I hate it when he does that.”

“Just how many people in Celebration Bay had a motive to kill Pete Waterbury?”

Liv and Ted were sitting at her desk, Liv’s second latte of the day before her and two sour cream crumb cake squares placed on the china plates.

Instead of answering, Ted took a bite of his crumb cake. Liv wasn’t even surprised. She just waited patiently until he finished chewing, then gave him an aggrieved smile.

“What was that?”

“I said, how many people here wanted Pete dead?”

Ted blinked. “Well, that’s putting it a bit harsh.”

“Just tell me.” She held up her hand. “I know you won’t divulge any of your own intimate details, but spill on the rest of the folks, okay? I’ve got a town’s reputation at stake here.”

Ted washed his cake down with a sip of tea. “Well, let’s put it this way. Nobody liked him.”

“And?”

“Well, he stalked Dolly until her father threatened to go after him with a shotgun. She was only fifteen at the time. But don’t get excited. Mr. Vanderboek died about four years
ago. And besides, that’s all hearsay, because I was away at school at the time.”

“Boarding school?”

“College.”

“Oh. Who else?”

“He used to pick on the smaller kids. Andy Miller took a few good beatings from him.”

“Andy? I’d hardly call him little. Wiry, maybe.”

“I guess I mean younger, smaller.” Ted shook his head; his eyes took on an unreadable look. Was he thinking the same thing she was—that Andy had showed up just after the body was discovered? But she just couldn’t see Andy committing murder.

“What about Bill?”

“We all got bussed to the same high school, but Bill lived down the road at Hadley’s Crossing; he didn’t hang out with any of us much. Surely you don’t think Bill killed him.”

“More like he wouldn’t want to arrest any of his friends.”

“He’ll do what he has to do, whether he likes it or not.”

“What about Fred?”

Ted brushed crumbs off his fingers and thought. “He was a year or two ahead of Dolly. So he must’ve been twenty when Pete disappeared for good.”

“He’d disappeared before that?”

“A few times. Like I said, he was just no good. And from such a decent family, too. Just goes to show you.” He shook his head. “All I know is that after that last time, he never came back. It was a bad business.”

“What? Was there something about the last time that was different?”

“Liv, it was a long time ago and best not thought about. He was just bad. Nobody liked him, but they’ll all show up for the funeral because Joss is well respected and the Waterbury family has been here for generations.” He stood up. “Now, I have work to do. I have this slave-driving boss.…”