Foul Play at the Fair Page 9

  “They’re going to have a funeral?”

  “They’ll have to. Pete was family. And family gets a funeral. I imagine it will be small, without the wake. But I doubt they’ll be able to stop folks from bringing food and visiting.”

  “I don’t guess you’ve talked to Bill since yesterday morning?”

  “Nope. I don’t envy him. Don’t envy him at all.”

  “You think he’ll railroad the Zoldoskys?”

  “One of them may be guilty.”

  And even if they weren’t, it was beginning to look like the Zoldoskys were headed for a rough time. Liv had to admit she was a little spooked to see how quickly the town had closed ranks against outsiders. After all, she was an outsider herself.

  The Harvest by the Bay Wrap-Up Committee meeting was packed and noisy. Normally, at least for the four meetings Liv had attended, they set up tables in the empty room and discussed things in a round-robin fashion. Tonight the tables had been pushed aside and chairs were set up haphazardly in rows, but no one was sitting down.

  “Where did all these people come from?” Liv asked Ted as they entered the assembly room at town hall. “We never had this many people in the other meetings. Is this normal?”

  “Well, we generally have the subcommittee heads attend, but my guess is you’ve got a town meeting on your hands.”

  “Town meeting. On my hands? What town meeting?”

  “Liv, is it true they want to close down the festivals?” Dexter Kent’s voice cut through the din.

  All faces turned toward Liv.

  “Is it?”

  “They can’t do that.”

  “Our livelihoods depend on it.”

  Liv held up both hands. “Everyone sit down and I’ll tell you what I know.” She could brain Janine Tudor for causing this trouble.

  “This town meeting,” Ted said as he guided her toward the raised platform at the front of the room.

  For a split second she longed for one nasty bridezilla instead of what looked like nearly a hundred desperate townspeople. But only for a second. As she looked around at the familiar faces, and the not-so-familiar faces, she knew she was looking at her new life, her new friends. And they were looking to her to save their bacon.

  “Please sit down,” Liv repeated as she reached the center of the platform. Ted had pulled a chair to the side of the stage and sat down. He was placing it in her hands. Not a cop-out, but a show of faith.

  “Evidently you’ve heard about some of the suggestions that were brought forward at the trustees meeting this morning.”

  “Is Gilbert Worley out of his mind?”

  This question was followed by loud support.

  “If you’ll all keep calm, I’ll tell you exactly what was discussed.” She hoped she wasn’t breaking some trustee rule. But this had become bigger than four men and a mayor. All of whom were merely human and hopefully wanted the best for their town.

  “It isn’t fair,” cried a solitary voice.

  “What’s going to happen to all us farmers who depend on the market to sell our produce?”

  Liv took a breath. “I’ll answer all of your questions as well as I can, but since we all have one major concern, let me address it to everyone.”

  “Everybody sit down.” Fred Hunnicutt, bless his heart, was the voice of reason. Everyone sat down amid a shuffle and scraping of folding chairs.

  “Let me just say, first off, that you all did an incredible job this past month and especially this past weekend.”

  “For all the good it did.”

  Someone rapidly hushed the speaker.

  “I want you to know that I left a good job in the city because I saw the possibilities in Celebration Bay, the room for growth and for success. And I intend to see that we do grow and we are successful.”

  “Yeah,” someone shouted.

  A smattering of applause.

  “The trustees are concerned for everyone’s safety, and this is why the suggestion was made of postponing, not ending, the events until the police investigation is wrapped up.” She was choosing her words carefully, but a little voice in her head was chiding her for her cold, legalese-like speech.

  “Why don’t they just arrest one of the Zoldoskys—”

  “Or all of them.”

  “Because,” Liv said before things got out of hand and the committee meeting turned into a free-for-all, “the law’s responsibility is to protect as well as to arrest. Or none of us would be safe. We must be patient.”

  “While we go broke.”

  “I said patient, while we continue to set up for October.”

  “So they’re not gonna close us down?”

  Liv jumped off the fence. “Not if I have any say in it. But to insure we can continue, we have to be proactive.”

  “You mean like bringing in the Zoldoskys ourselves.”

  “No!” Liv yelled, appalled. “First of all, no one is taking the law into their own hands. That would be death to any hope of continuing the festivals.” She couldn’t believe she had to say something like that; she felt like she was living in the Wild West. “But the festivals have grown so large and so frequent that we really need to pay attention to security.”

  “That’s what Bill Gunnison is supposed to do.”

  “Yes, and he does. But he’s one man with a small force who is responsible for the entire county. We can help them by setting up so that there are fewer situations where accidents or violence can occur.”

  “Like Joss’s apple press?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of store owners making sure alleys are well lit. That everyone should have a buddy when closing late. Be friendly but not careless when meeting new people. Report any suspicious activities or behaviors immediately to the police.” Should she mention that she wanted to hire a separate security force? Better to draw up a spec sheet and run it by the trustees first.

  “It’s a question of being intelligent.” She saw Bill Gunnison enter through the back door. “Now, Sheriff Gunnison would like to address a few words to the group.”

  Bill walked down the crooked, makeshift aisle. His sciatica seemed to be better, since he was almost standing upright. He stepped onto the platform, and Liv moved aside to give him the floor.

  “Thank you, Liv. I couldn’t have said those things better myself. Vigilance is the key to safety.”

  “Didn’t help Pete Waterbury.”

  “No, but Pete’s death was an unusual situation,” Bill said. “I guess it’s no secret that the man was murdered by an unknown assailant. I’m asking anyone with any information, who thinks they might have seen something, to please come forward.”

  There was a rustling of chairs.

  “Not now,” Bill amended hastily. “I know Liv here needs to wind up the reports from September so she can get started on October. I’ll be here for a while after the meeting, or if anyone prefers anonymity, they can call the tip hotline.”

  He nodded to Liv and stepped down.

  “Okay,” said Liv, moving back to the center of the platform. “If I could have the committee chairs and their subchairs and assistants down front, we’ll move through this as quickly and efficiently as possible. The rest of you, thank you for coming. There’s a suggestion box in the lobby for ideas on improving the event, and I’m sure Sheriff Gunnison will welcome any information you might be able to give.”

  There was a mass exodus to the back door. She hoped Bill didn’t get bombarded with useless speculation.

  The rest of the meeting proceeded without too much argument. Ted collected reports and monies, and he and Fred Hunnicutt took them to the office safe until they could be checked against receipts and taken to the bank the next morning.

  When the last committee member had gone home, Liv returned to the office to find Ted, Fred, and Bill deep in conversation. They fell silent as she entered.

  “Gentlemen?” she asked, inviting information.

  “Well, I’d better be going,” Fred said. “You need an es
cort, Liv?”

  “No, thanks. I need to talk to Bill for a minute.”

  Ted lifted his jacket off the coatrack. “Then I’ll take off, too. See her home, Bill?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen those two move so fast,” Liv said as soon as the door closed behind Ted and Fred. “Sort of like rats on a sinking ship.”

  Bill’s brow furrowed.

  “They were so eager to leave, I wonder if they were avoiding talking to me?”

  “Nah,” Bill said. “We were just talking about the funeral. Wednesday at the Presbyterian church. Joss asked us to be pallbearers.”

  Interesting, thought Liv. “You don’t sound too happy about it.”

  Bill shrugged. He looked years older than he had a few days before. “Put me in a bit of an awkward position. I had to turn him down. My good friend, and I couldn’t be a pallbearer for his brother.”

  “Because you’re investigating the murder?”

  “Something like. Investigations take you to places you don’t necessarily want to go.”

  “Like?”

  “Aw, hell, Liv. I can’t discuss the case.”

  “I realize that, Bill. And trust me, I don’t want any gory details. But I do need some information. The trustees are threatening to close down the upcoming events until this murder is solved. Which means it needs to be solved yesterday.”

  “Damn. It ain’t gonna happen that easy. I’ve done about all I can do while I’m waiting for the damn forensic reports to come back. Murder in a small town isn’t exactly a high priority.”

  “If we lose Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, not to mention the whole ski season, I don’t know how long it will take to recover. Or if the town will be able to recover. We can’t afford to take that chance, Bill.”

  “We’re in a mess, Liv, no doubt about it.” He slumped down on the edge of Ted’s desk and frowned at the floor.

  Liv took that as an invitation. She sat down in the armchair facing him.

  “Do you have any leads? I won’t gossip. I’ve survived the society pages of New York City. I know how to keep my mouth shut and my eyes open.”

  Bill’s own eyes lit up. “Did you see anything?”

  “No, but I talked to Anton when I took them their check Sunday. He said they’d never told anyone Pete was a Zoldosky. That was just an assumption we made.”

  “That’s what he told me.”

  Liv thought back to her visit to the field, the commotion in the trailer before Pete somersaulted out. “But Pete did.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, he didn’t actually say he was a Zoldosky, but last Friday, I went out to remind them panhandling wasn’t allowed. I knocked on the trailer door. No one answered, but someone was watching me from the window. Then there was a lot of crashing and banging inside; then Pete somersaulted out the door and landed at my feet. He wasn’t wearing greasepaint, wasn’t disguising himself in any way. Because he’d checked me out from the window and knew I wasn’t someone from his past. Maybe he was even testing his disguise out on me. Because he bowed and welcomed me, I assumed he was a Zoldosky.

  “Then Anton came and introduced himself and Pete disappeared. Pete never said he was a brother, but he certainly wanted me to think he was.”

  “Hmm,” Bill said rubbing his back. “Anything else?”

  Liv shook her head. “Another two brothers showed up and I got the hell out. But I stopped to look back. Pete was juggling those scarves and grinning like he’d just heard a good joke.” She sat back. “I guess that doesn’t really help. Just kind of substantiates Anton’s statement.”

  “Of course, he could have lied to both of us.”

  “To protect himself?” Liv asked.

  Bill shrugged. “Maybe, but I couldn’t get anything else out of him. And I’m not gonna let them leave until I do. You didn’t happen to see when they left the green Saturday night?”

  Liv thought back. “They were still there at ten. They couldn’t pack out their gear until after closing when the traffic crew let vehicles back in. But I didn’t notice if Pete was there or not. Sorry.”

  “Doesn’t really matter. He wasn’t killed till after midnight at least.”

  “I did think that maybe Dolly’s Peeping Tom might have been Pete made up in his white greasepaint.”

  Bill jumped to his feet, wincing.

  “That was probably one of the hill kids; they all get rambunctious this time of year. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

  Surprised, Liv stood up. The mention of Dolly had galvanized him into trying to get rid of her. Which meant she wouldn’t tell him about Ted’s confrontation with Pete, or about Fred saying that Joss was looking weird the night of Pete’s murder.

  It was all just speculation, and it was obvious from Bill’s reaction that he didn’t want to hear anything that would point to one of his friends.

  He drove her home, but they didn’t discuss the murder or much of anything. But before she got out of the car, she said, “Bill I know this is awful, but you have to help me. The town is depending on it.”

  “I know. But I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t.”

  “Why?”

  “The state is already threatening to send in investigators.”

  “That would be good, wouldn’t it? I mean, they have access to better equipment and faster results.”

  “They don’t know the area or the people. They’ll come in stirring up all sorts of nonsense, rub people the wrong way, accuse people who might have a motive but have never broken the law in their lives, sow distrust and suspicion, because they’ll be working with a clean slate. They have no vested interest in us, just in upholding the law.

  “I’ve seen it happen before, Liv. They might apprehend the killer, but they’ll destroy this town in the process.”

  Chapter Nine

  Peter Jacobsen Waterbury’s funeral was held on Wednesday morning at the First Presbyterian Church. The place was packed, as Ted had predicted. Most of the worshippers came to pay their respects to the Waterbury family. At least a few came out of pure curiosity.

  A simple casket was placed at the front of the church with a profusion of wreaths and flower arrangements surrounding it. The mood was solemn and silent, which was unusual for the local inhabitants. Dolly and Fred were sitting near the front, their heads bowed. Andy Miller sat with Ted, though they seemed unaware of each other.

  Bill Gunnison, dressed in a dark suit, stood at the back of the church, hands clasped behind his back, either acting as a greeter or looking for a killer; it was hard to tell. His expression was somber, almost angry. No one spoke to him as they passed.

  Ida Zimmerman sat on the aisle next to her sister, Edna. She nodded to Liv and indicated an empty spot between them and BeBe Ford. Liv smiled and sidestepped her way to the empty place.

  “Nice turnout,” BeBe said, moving her folded coat to her other side. She was dressed in a muted gray dress.

  Liv was glad she hadn’t worn black. She wasn’t sure about local funeral fashion and had opted for a brown wool skirt and tailored tweed jacket, one of her moving-to-the-country purchases, and it was subdued enough not to stand out at the funeral.

  The back doors opened and Joss Waterbury guided his wife, Amanda, down the aisle to the front pew. Donnie and Roseanne followed, their eyes cast down at the floor. Roseanne wore a black skirt and sweater and looked very young compared to the hip seventeen-year-old of a few days ago. Donnie wore a black suit like his father. Dressed alike they bore a striking resemblance to each other…and to Pete Waterbury.

  When they were seated, the Reverend Phillip Schorr climbed to the pulpit. The pastor was a young man who had moved to town a few years before. Liv wondered what he would find to say about the man no one liked.

  Not much, as it turned out. After the usual introduction and a hymn, he read a few Bible verses and turned the floor over to Joss Waterbury.

  Joss rose ponderously to his feet, as
if his dark suit were made of lead. He seemed out of place without his overalls and flannel shirt. Older, tired, and ill at ease.

  He climbed the two steps to the chancel and stood at the head of the coffin.

  He cleared his throat. “My brother, Pete, was an unfortunate man. He just didn’t fit in and he didn’t care. But he was my brother and I hope he’s goin’ to a place that welcomes him at last.” He rested his hand gently on the coffin and shook his head.

  The organ started up. Five other men rose from their seats and joined him, and Liv realized they were pallbearers. Andy, Fred, Ted, Dexter Kent, and Rufus Cobb.

  At least Pete was going out in style.

  Amanda, Roseanne, and Donnie followed behind. When they were gone, the mourners rose. Quiet talk broke out among them.

  BeBe reached for her coat. “There’s going to be a graveside service just for the immediate family; then everyone will meet at the Waterbury farm for lunch. I know they’d want you to be there.”

  “I don’t know,” Liv said. “It’s a pretty solemn occasion among people who’ve known each other for a long time, and besides, I didn’t make anything.”

  “That’s okay,” Miss Ida said. “Edna and I made extra.”

  “Besides,” BeBe added. “There will be so much food nobody will notice. I’m driving Miss Edna and Miss Ida out. Why don’t you come with us? Save us taking both cars.”

  “Thanks,” Liv said. “I’d like that.”

  They all climbed into BeBe’s Subaru, Ida up front with BeBe and Liv and Edna in back.

  “Well,” Edna said as BeBe pulled out of the parking lot. “I hope for Joss’s sake the place Pete’s going welcomes him with harp music, but for my money, I think he’ll go straight the other way.” She nodded her head portentously.

  “Now, Edna, I had him in fourth grade,” Miss Ida said from the front seat. “He was a rambunctious child, but not any worse than most of the farm boys. They were used to doing chores and playing out of doors. A lot of them found it hard to sit still for lessons.”