Stiffs and Swine (20 page)

Despite his late afternoon snack, James’s stomach came to life as he pondered Eleanor’s culinary skills. It gurgled in demand, loud enough to be heard over and above the sounds of the bugs, frogs, and the creaking rocker.

“Whoa, was that you?” Francesca’s eyes grew round and then she giggled. “You must be hungry!”

James tried to camouflage his expansive belly with his arms. “Oh, I don’t need anything.”

Hopping off the swing, Francesca grabbed James by the hand. “We’ve got lots of goodies left over from today’s tea. Most of the guests were too busy at Hog Fest to eat here and my mom would be unhappy if her food went to waste. She usually gives R. C. late-night snacks, but he’s too wiped out to come over tonight.”

“Do you think there’s enough for my three friends?” he asked sheepishly.

“Of course!” Francesca led James into the kitchen, where the remainder of the supper club had already been installed at the kitchen table while Eleanor chatted and poured glasses of sun tea. Lucy gestured at the note tacked on the fridge and winked at James.

“Francesca told me all about that,” he whispered in her ear and tried not to be affected by how pleasant her hair smelled.

“Thank goodness we didn’t interrogate Eleanor,” Lucy whispered back, “or we might not have been given such a lovely dinner. Here,” she ladled a spoonful of tomato and mozzarella salad onto an empty plate. “The fresh basil on this salad is delicious. There’s devilled eggs and fresh blueberries, too. This meal is just what we need! All of this protein will give us just the energy required to move ahead in our investigation.”

“I hope so,” James answered, and he listened as Lindy told Francesca about the ups and downs of being a schoolteacher. Eleanor began rinsing dishes and placing them in the dishwasher, but James could tell that she was interested in what Lindy had to say as well.

Outside the window, the night fell in full force, though the summer darkness was softened by firefly glow. The laughter and companionable conversation resounding within the kitchen allowed James’s anger over Murphy’s behavior to ebb away. As he stared at the moving reflections of their cozy group in the window, he felt that he was a part of a circle of love and trust that would never let him down.

A few minutes later, Eleanor poured coffee into oversized mugs and placed a napkin-lined basket of warm brownies in the center of the table.

“If only Gillian were here, this would be a perfect night,” James spoke his thoughts aloud.

Lucy touched his hand with hers and then selected the largest brownie from the basket and put it on his plate. “Buck up, James. We’ve made a lot of headway today, and no one’s giving up on Gillian. I’m not going back to Quincy’s Gap without her.”

James gazed at Lucy so tenderly that her cheeks turned pink. “What’s that sappy look for?” she teased.

“I’m just appreciating your loyalty,” James said. He bit into his brownie. “And that goes for you, too,” he gestured at Bennett and Lindy. “You guys are my family and I’d do anything for you. I’ve never told you before how much you mean to me, so I’m telling you now.”

Lindy dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. “Oh, James! Pass me those brownies or I’ll cry off the rest of my mascara!”

James and his
friends wobbled through the festival in search of the Marrow Men and their pale-skinned teammate. Eleanor’s nourishing dinner coupled with several cups of strong Kona coffee had given them some much-needed energy, but there was something about the multicolored lights, the aggressive movements of the crowd, the thick scent of fried foods, and the constant noise pouring from the loudspeakers that quickly sapped the group’s enthusiasm.

“I could never live this life. These people will pack up tomorrow, drive to another town, and get ready to deal with a new crowd. We must all look the same to them after a time,” Lindy remarked as she gestured at one of the game vendors.

Beneath a painted sign that read,
Bonzo Bazooka
, a group of listless adults occupied three out of the eight metal swivel stools positioned in front of water guns. James recognized the game. After all, this game, or one just like it, was a fixture at every fair he had ever attended. The point of the game was to determine who could shoot the most concentrated stream of water into the gaping mouth of a demented-looking clown in order to blow up the balloon appearing above the crown of his white head. Whoever could pop the balloon first was the victor.

James had only won the game once as a little boy, but the nightmares he had had the night after the county fair about a monstrous clown spitting a mouthful of brackish water back into his face were hardly worth the plush banana he had won as a prize.

“We need a fourth to play!” a man with a weathered face called out to James as he passed by. “Come on, mister. Win a giant snake for your girlfriend!”

James turned away in embarrassment. Who
was
the giant snake in his relationship after all? Himself or Murphy? True, she had come to Hudsonville to write an article on Jimmy’s death, but that was her job and the cause of death
was
unusual. Was he angry with Murphy for seeking the truth about the murder or because she didn’t assume, with the same conviction he had, that Gillian was innocent of murder? And what about this book she had written? Before Francesca appeared, James could have sworn that Murphy implied that it was a fictionalized account of the supper club’s role as amateur detectives, but why would a publisher be interested in them? They were just ordinary people.

Head down, ruminating over Murphy’s book, James paid little attention to where he was walking. As a result, he had a direct collision with a biker carrying a funnel cake in each hand. The funnel cake in his left hand was topped with powdered sugar and fudge sauce, while the cake in his right hand was loaded with a puddle of strawberry jam. Within seconds, James’s white polo shirt looked like a canvas upon which a modernist had created a fresh piece of art by zealously splashing the contents of his paint cans onto the blank cloth.

James looked down at his shirt in horror.

The biker growled.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” James spluttered in apology.

“No shit.” The giant of a man took a menacing step toward James. “Ya know, I’ve been lookin’ forward to eatin’ those since I hit the road at
five
this mornin’. Now you’re
wearin’
’em instead.”

James frantically dug his wallet out of his pants and shoved a twenty into the biker’s enormous paw. “Here. Take this to replace your funnel cakes and for … for all your trouble. Have a nice evening.”

Scurrying away, James’s friends had no choice but to follow behind as he plowed through the crowd in the direction of the Marrow Men’s cluster of campers. He finally stopped at their cooking area, puffing in exertion and disgusted at his own cowardice.

Bennett, who arrived at the campsite next, slapped James on the back. “My man, there are times when you just gotta cut and run. Back there was one of those times.”

Lindy and Lucy hid giggles behind their hands. They observed the cook site—the entire area had a deserted feeling to it, and none of the campers seemed to be occupied. The four friends spread out and rapped on the doors of all the nearby RVs bearing Texas license plates, but no one answered their knocks.

Perplexed, Lindy consulted her schedule and then she began to nod in understanding. “Right after Felicity’s dog show, a man called Humphrey the Hypnotist will perform, followed by tonight’s main event, a magician called Ivan the Illusionist. Apparently, Ivan travels with a harem of scantily clad assistants. I’ve seen his poster around the fairgrounds, and if the women are wearing what they’ve got on in that picture, then that’s where the Marrow Men are.”

Bennett rubbed his eyes. “What time is it over, ’cause I don’t feel like hanging around here much longer. I’m doggone tired.”

“I’d say the show will run ’til at least eleven,” Lindy said. “There’s a fireworks display, too.”

Lucy checked her watch. “It’s almost nine now.” She ran her hands through her hair and sighed. “I feel terrible saying this, but I’d like nothing better than to lie down in my bed back at the inn.”

“Well, we can’t do much more on Gillian’s behalf tonight if we can’t interview the Marrow Men,” James said, feeling a twinge of guilt. “I vote for bed.”

His friends mumbled their agreement and once again headed toward the parking lot. The campground area was very quiet. Here and there a couple sat quietly talking or parents led sleepy children off to bed, but for the most part, the sound of an announcer’s voice murmuring through distant speakers was the only invasive noise.

The hum of several small generators added to the drowsy peacefulness of the night, and James couldn’t wait to take off his soiled clothes and his sticky belt (which felt too snug anyway), and step into a strong stream of hot shower water. He believed that even Bennett’s rumbling snores would have no effect on the powerful lethargy that had invaded every inch of his body. He couldn’t recall a time when he had been so desperate to pull on a pair of pajama bottoms and his favorite William & Mary
T-shirt and hit the sack.

As the foursome drew close to Jimmy and Hailey’s monstrous RV, they heard a
clank
echo near the front of the vehicle. Instinctively, they all stopped short and exchanged curious looks. Even though they had yet to walk past the camper, they could sense that there were no lights lit near the cooker, but that is where the odd noise had come from.

“Around back,” Lucy whispered and pointed at the neighboring camper that could shield them from view as they investigated the source of the sound.

Walking on tiptoes, they crept behind the camper next to Jimmy’s and poked their heads around the corner. James experienced a strong feeling of déjà vu from two days previous, when he and Bennett had eavesdropped on the spat between Jimmy and Hailey.

Because a thick cloud layer covered the half-moon, James had trouble distinguishing the shapes arranged alongside of the mammoth RV. Having seen the area during the daytime, he was able to recognize the forms of two folding chairs, a side table, and of course, Jimmy’s commercial cooker. A movement near this rectangular black shape caught James’s eye, and he nudged Lucy in the side and pointed. Nodding silently, she put her fingers to her lips.

James watched unblinkingly as the person near Jimmy’s cooker bent over to retrieve something from a bag at his feet. He assumed that the stranger was a man by his height and build. When the unknown person suddenly fired up a small welding torch, James could see that his assumption had been correct. The light cast from the blue flame illuminated a pale, masculine face, though the eyes remained hidden behind a pair of mirrored sunglasses. After the man adjusted the flame, he applied the torch to an area in the underside of the lid. Jimmy’s grill was so large that it actually had two separate cookers, but the man with the torch appeared to only be interested in the right-hand cooker.

“This guy’s got a
big
pair of ba—,” Bennett began, but Lindy covered his mouth with her hand.

“What?” Bennett whispered. “He’s destroying a dead man’s property right out in the open! He’s either desperate or crazy.”

“What should we do?” Lindy breathed. “Should we stop him or wait and see what he finds?”

“Let’s see what he’s looking for first,” Lucy suggested and the group fell silent again, watching as sparks flew from the around the cooker and disappeared in the surrounding blackness as though instantly snuffed out by dozens of invisible fingers.

“Hey!” a man’s voice suddenly shouted from the shadows just beyond the man with the torch. “What the hell
do you think you’re doing?”

Bob Barker stepped into the illuminated strip of road that led back to the main fairway. He hesitated beneath the light, as though unsure of whether it was a good idea to apprehend a man dressed entirely in black who also happened to be brandishing a welding torch. Turning to the left and then to the right, Bob seemed to be searching for other signs of humanity in the campground.

“He needs to know that he’s not alone,” James whispered. Without thinking about the matter further, he stepped out from behind the shelter of the camper and waved his arms. “Hey Bob,” he said absurdly as the man in black swiveled around to face James and his friends.

Realizing that he was trapped, the prowler threw the welding torch directly at Bob’s head. Uttering a surprised squeak, Bob raised his arms to protect his face and the stranger slipped past him and sprinted off into a cover of deeper shadows beyond the campers.

The torch missed Bob by a few inches and landed with a thud in a patch of grass near his feet. When he leaned over to retrieve it, Lucy shouted, “Don’t touch that! The murderer’s fingerprints are probably on here!”

“Murderer?” Bob looked in the direction where the man in black had disappeared and then moved closer to the welding torch, as though to shield it with his body.

After urgently conferring with Lindy, Lucy unzipped her large purse, turned it upside down, and unceremoniously dumped its contents into Lindy’s. Using a paper napkin, Lucy then picked up the torch and slid it into her bag. The tip of the torch brushed against her hand as she zippered her purse.

“Ow! It’s still warm!” She shook her hand back and forth in the air. “That crazy bastard! What was he looking for?”

“Who knows? The grill’s black and it’s nighttime.” Bennett was obviously disappointed. “Hey! Didn’t I see a flashlight rolling around in your Jeep?” he asked Lucy.

Lucy nodded, but gave Bob an inquisitive look. “Does Hailey keep one in the camper?”

Bob shook his head. “I’ve got no clue what’s in there. More important, I’ve got no idea where Hailey’s gotten to. I was supposed to meet her at the entrance to the pavilion and we were gonna watch the show together, but she didn’t come. She’s been actin’ right strange all day, so I came here to see if she’d changed her mind about meetin’ me.” He gestured at the RV. “She said she wasn’t gonna sleep in this thing ever again. Said it gave her the creeps to know Jimmy died inside, even if he was a grade-A jackass.”

They all glanced at the large vehicle as though assessing whether it exuded a sinister aura, but it seemed completely innocuous. James stepped up to the door and knocked. As Bob and his friends watched, he turned the knob and pushed it open.

“Hailey?” he called to the still air within. Feeling along the wall, he flipped a light switch and a soft glow emanated from two gleaming brass fixtures hanging from the ceiling above the dining area. The camper was a mess. Pillows from the sofa were scattered on the floor. Their fabric was marked by angry slashes, and white polyester filler oozed through the gaping holes. Cupboard doors had been flung open and their contents strewn everywhere. James sensed that the search of the camper had been conducted with both urgency and rage. He noticed that the searcher had emptied an entire box of Frosted Flakes onto the carpet. Nearby were twin piles of flour and sugar; their torn paper bags thrown carelessly into the sink.