Liz Marvin - Betty Crawford 03 - Too Long at the Fair (13 page)

16. Chapter 15

Clarise met up with Betty on the front steps of the police station and for once she didn’t look perfectly groomed.  Both women carried bags of clothes.  “The crooks cleaned out the last of our antique lights and a dozen rare play manuscripts from the eighteen hundreds.”

Betty hugged her friend.  “I’m so sorry.  Do you have a list of what they took?”

“Burned on my heart.  I’ll recite it -”

“Later.  I’ll need to write it down.”

“Fine!” Clarise snapped, then quieted down.  “I’m sorry.  I picked out some more clothes for Addie.  I am just so angry! We lost all our old programs and civil war uniforms too.”

Betty took Clarise by the arm and led her inside.  Clarise was taken to Addie and Betty let herself into Bill’s office.  He wasn’t there so Betty sat at his desk and logged onto his computer.  He used Betty1 as his password which she found sweet.

She set up a new email account and used it to fire off a dozen email inquiries to online antique dealers she knew.  Then she began searching through the online auction and sales listing sites looking for civil war uniforms plus programs and plays from the eighteen hundreds.  After an hour’s search she had found nothing. 

Betty moved on to specialty antique websites.  First she had to identify and bookmark likely sites in a host of different categories.  She concentrated on southern, silver, theatrical, civil war and antiquarian booksellers.  She narrowed the lists to ten sites in each category and then she logged onto her own email.  As promised, there were three digital photographs of Addie’s great great-grandmother in a shiny silver frame waiting for her; just as Danbey Johnson had promised.

In another ten minutes Betty had posted an ad selling a genuine William Glaze silver picture frame.  She had to use an online photo editing program to crop out the picture of great great great aunt Beurey and she deliberately wrote hurried and sloppy ad copy.

4 SALE:   1 silver picture frame signed Wi or Wm Glaz but maybe William Glaze.  Worn a bit but polished up & in real good shape and I think it is real silver.  Ways about a quarter pound at least may be more. Looking for a fair offer or if u have 1 like it am willing to buy.

Then she sent notices of the ad to her list of southern, silver and Civil War sites.  It had taken two hours but the right questions had been asked and the bait had been set.  Now there was nothing to do but wait.  Betty leaned back in Bill’s chair and realized how tight and sore her shoulders were.  Her stomach grumbled and she had a hunger headache.  She rubber her neck with one hand and her forehead with the other, willing the pain to stop and go away.

Suddenly two strong hands took over massaging her shoulder and neck. The traveled up her neck and her head and gently massaged her temples.  She smiled and leaned back into the chair, her eyes still closed.  She could do this all day and one way to prolong her bliss was to ask a question.

“Anything new on the pick-pocket gang?”

“Not a thing.  Putting up cameras everywhere worked like a charm.”  Bill kept rubbing; her plan had worked.  “Wes is on monitor duty this morning.”

“Any group leave town?”

“This gang wouldn’t be dumb enough to leave together all at once but don’t worry, we’re still looking into it and don’t get too comfortable either.  You and Clarise are escorting Miss Beurey down the police station steps and into a waiting throng of reporters in about five minutes.”

Drat.  Betty sighed, stood up and pushed Bill into his chair. “I warmed it up for you.  Get comfortable.  Today and today only you have permission to read my email.  Watch for responses to my ad for a silver picture frame.  If anyone says they’re interested in buying ask if they have one like it.  If they offer you one find out where they got it.  I put out some feelers for stuff taken from the theater too.  If someone contacts you and says they just bought civil war uniforms or old plays or programs you can tell them who you are.  They’re all business acquaintances but they’re good folk and they’ll help.”

“Because it might lead to the killer.”

“Might?  It will. But they’ll help because they’re good people.  Honest.  Believe it or not most folks are.”

Betty massaged Bill’s shoulders.  “On good days I believe it, mostly because of you.”  Betty smiled. She felt the same about him.  He closed his eyes and relaxed.  “This Glaze fellow made at least two frames, probably more.  And people buy and sell stuff every day.  Not all of it is stolen even if it falls into the category you’re investigating.  On the other hand it’ll keep me at my desk.  I’ve got a ton of paperwork to catch up on.  If only you could stay here and just keep rubbing my shoulders.”

Betty kept rubbing his shoulders.  Doing it made her feel better to.  “And leave Clarise and Addie to those vultures of the press?”

“Clarise can handle herself and I bet Addie can too.”

“Go. Go before I change my mind.”

Betty need not have worried.  Wherever reporters gathered Walter Payone would be there.  He stood on the steps holding court.  Clarise and Addie were standing behind him.

“Anyone can take mundane ingredients and make something tasty but have you ever taken a poisonous weed and turned it into something exquisite?  That is something truly magical and it is what makes southern cooking so unique, so special and so much a part of Lofton’s heritage.”

Betty was impressed.  He must have talked to Achmed this morning and horned in on the action.  Betty knew he meant well but without intervention Walter could go on like this for hours and she didn’t have the time.  She linked arms with Clarise and Addie and started down the steps.  The escape plan didn’t work.

“And here is the special lady who will be demonstrating this culinary act of legerdemain.”  Walter pulled Addie free from Betty and Clarise had the good sense to pull Betty away from Walter.

“What is your name?”

“Addie.  Adeline Beurey.”

“And how long has your family lived in Lofton?”

“Our farm is way outside of town. Two miles at least and we been there pretty near one hundred eighty years.”

“And what is this about you’re making a pie out of a poison berry?”
 

“They aren’t poison if you prepare them right.  Same as the new greens in the spring.”

A reporter called out.  “What’s the name of the berry?”

“Pokeberry.  The science name is Phytolacca Americana.  Most folks call it poke weed but it’s a useful plant.  Thomas Jefferson used pokeberry ink and my pa used the poison on barn rats and such but you can eat the greens in the spring and the berries all summer if you know how to cook them.”

The same reporter was scribbling furiously as were many more.  Every microphone and camera was pointed at Addie but she was talking about a subject she loved and nobody was interrupting her so she didn’t seem to notice.

“My great great-grandmother Adeline made up the recipe over a hundred years ago.  Times were hard and they had to make do.  She called it her honest pie because there was nothing store bought in it but the flour and one year she even made that.  At least that’s the family story.”

She wound down self-consciously.  For the reporters that would not do. “Are you named after your grandma?”  “Did your family fight in the civil war?”  “What do pokeberries taste like?”  Addie took a step backward and nearly fell.  Walter caught her and held up her hand. 

“Adeline has been working with the police all night and I’m sure she is exhausted.  You’ll be able to watch her prepare her family masterpiece at the fairgrounds tomorrow.”

A limousine pulled to a stop behind the reporters.  The front window rolled down and Achmed O’Rielly grinned up at them and held his finger to his lips, then gestured for them to join him.  Walter barely gave a nod then raised his hands.

“And I want to assure you that for once the rumors in those Hollywood scandal rags and gossip websites are true.  There will be a major motion picture production in Lofton in the coming year.  That’s all I can tell you for now - no don’t bother asking.  My lips are sealed and I won’t say another word!”

By the time he finished Betty, Addie and Clarise were in the limo and the window was rolled up.  Walter, head up or rather, nose in the air, strode past the reporters and slid into the limousine, quickly closing the door behind him.

“You were brilliant!” Clarise hugged Walter and he couldn’t have been more pleased if he had won an Oscar. 

“My performance will have been wasted if we don’t make our escape.”

“Where did you find a limo in Lofton?”

Achmed gave Betty his best Cheshire cat smile as they sped away.

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going and can I keep the car?”

“Why Addie’s place, of course!  We need more of these berries and Addie’s cooking gear” Achmed answered “and no you may not but have some decaf coffee and spiced scrambled eggs in low carb wraps.”

Walter and Betty each grabbed a cup and a wrap. 

~

Addie’s farm was as neat as a pin.  The split rail fences were faded gray and weather worn but in good repair.  The fields were neat and there was no better garden in the state.  The only thing that looked out of place was the limousine parked at Addie’s front door.

Achmed jumped out of the car and managed to open Addie’s door.  He took her hand and helped her out.  She smiled shyly and found something very interesting to look at in the general vicinity of her feet.  Clarise smiled and nudged Betty who was just finishing her breakfast wrap.  “What?”

Clarise tugged her from the car.  “All right which way to the berry patch?”

The pokeberry stand grew in the narrow space between the tilled fields and the wild woods.  The plants stood four feet tall.  The berries grew in a symmetrical pattern around a thick central stalk.  The patch had been well harvested when they arrived but under Addie’s expert supervision the four pickers cleared it of ripe whole berries in less than an hour. 

Everyone was as careful as could be but inside an hour their fingers were stained deep purple.   Betty could not remember a better time berry picking in her entire life but she noticed Addie and Achmed were having an even better time.  At one point she nudged Clarise and nodded at the budding couple just to get some confirmation from her best friend.  Clarise rolled her eyes, turned her back on Betty and went back to picking berries.  Sometimes silence is the best way to say “mind your own business”.  Betty took the hint.

“We’ve got enough for three pies!”

“Good because the state police destroyed your last one.”

“Just as well, it wasn’t that good anyway.  I used brown sugar instead of honey and dried mint instead of fresh.”

“I - we can buy mint!” Achmed cut in, “I mean, we don’t have a lot of time to go hunting for a mint patch.”

Addie laughed.  “Mint grows wild here.  There’s no trouble finding it, it’s not finding it that’s a problem!” She was suddenly serious “But the taste is, the taste is what makes honey sweet and berries mellow and if the honey doesn’t come from the berry’s flowers and mint from the same earth it just can’t taste the same.”  Unconsciously she had taken both Achmed’s hands in hers.  Just as unconsciously Achmed held on.

“Do I look like that around Bill?” Betty whispered to Clarise. “Sometimes” her friend answered “I bet Wes and I do too.”  Betty grinned and headed for the car.  “Come on, I think there’s some decaf coffee and maybe one low carb wrap left.”

The two friends kept each other honest.  Neither looked back until they heard the gunfi

17. Chapter 16

The first shot hit Betty’s berry basket.  She dropped it and ran, zigzagging toward the house and then the limousine.  A shot pinged near her foot and she dove for the front steps, rolling to a stop at the front door.

Clarise was right behind her, breathless but still clutching her berry basket.  She pressed her back into the wall.

“Are you okay?”

“No! Somebody is shooting at us!”

“I know that!  Are you hurt?”

“No.  You have your cell phone?”

“In the car.  You?”

“Car.  Let’s get inside.”  Betty reached up and opened the door.  Clarise jumped through and Betty crawled in after her.

More shots rang out.  The women crouched, huddled together, hugging each other.  “Where’s Addie and Achmed?”  Betty asked just as the couple burst through the front door.  Betty and Clarise screamed in unison.

“Hush.”  Addie said. “Either of you shot?”

“No.  You?”

“Just out of breath.”  Achmed said, lowering himself to the floor. “I have never liked being shot at.”  He crawled to the front door and looked at the car.  “Do you think we can make it?”

“Not without the car getting shot up and us with it.”  Addie answered.  “You all just stay put and stay down.”

Addie disappeared into the house.

“Who’d have thought she would be the calm and competent one?” Betty asked.

“I did.”  Achmed answered.  No one answered or argued.

Addie returned a short time later with an ancient flintlock musket, a powder horn and a leather pouch.  A gunshot shattered a window.  Betty, Clarise and Achmed hugged the floor.  Addie continued loading the musket.

“That shot came from the back woods.  I’m going upstairs.  Mister O’Rielly kindly take off your shirt and drape it over the broken chair in the dining room.  Then one of you push it in front of the kitchen window.  See if you can draw fire so I know where to shoot.  Keep your heads down.”

She started upstairs.  Achmed rolled onto his back and started unbuttoning his shirt. 

“I’ll get the chair.”  Betty said and crawled into the dining room.  She froze when another shot rang out.  “Whoever is doing that is beginning to annoy me.”

“I was annoyed after the first shot.” Clarise said.  She had put aside her basket and was clutching the leather pouch and powder horn. “You think I should take these to Addie?”

“She’ll only need one shot.”  Achmed said, handing his shirt to Betty.

Betty rose up enough to put the shirt over the chair back.  She pushed the chair across the wood floor of the dining room and into the kitchen then spied a broom beside the door.  She used it to push the chair to the window.  Just a bit of fabric in front of the glass and a shot rang out, shattering the glass and putting a hole in the sleeve.  The bullet lodged in the wall beside Betty.

Another shot rang out, this one from inside the house. 

Then silence. 

Addie walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.  She set the gun beside the door, picked up the broom and started sweeping.  Betty was still seated on the floor.  Addie looked at her. 

“Did - did you hit him?”  Betty had to know.

“Not sure.  Might have winged him but I sure scared him.  Will you take Achmed his shirt please.”  Then she noticed the hole in the sleeve.  “I should mend this first.”

Betty stood up and took the shirt. “I’m guessing the hole will wait.”

On wobbly feet Betty managed to reach the door.  She looked again at the bullet hole in the wall and stopped.  She needed to lean on the door jamb to keep from falling.  “Addie, thank you.”

Addie stopped sweeping long enough to lay a hand on Betty’s shoulder.  “We should get the berries and head back to town.  Tell those cute men at the police station about this.”

Betty steeled herself.  Patted Addie’s hand without looking and went to find Achmed.

Achmed and Clarise were in the car, both on their cell phones.  Achmed hung up and happily accepted his shirt until he noticed the bullet hole.  Betty realized uncomfortably that the shirt probably cost more than her entire outfit.

“Addie says she can mend that.”  Betty promised and Achmed clutched the shirt to his breast.

“I’d bet my life she can.  But she won’t.  I’ll wear this shirt as it is and I’ll keep it just this way for the rest of my life.  Is she all right?”

Betty laughed. “All right?  She’s sweeping up glass in the kitchen.  Says we should go get our berry baskets and head back to town.”

Achmed was putting on his shirt as he jumped up the steps and into the house. 

Clarise crawled out of the car.  “The cavalry is on its way.  Bill is upset and Wes is downright furious.  They don’t like us getting shot at either.”

The two friends, arms around each other, climbed the steps and made their way to the dining room just in time to spot Achmed, his arms around Addie, kissing passionately.

They reversed course as silently and quickly and were outside again before they dared take a breath.

“Let’s see about those berry baskets.” Betty said leading the way.

“Berry baskets.  Excellent idea.”  Clarise agreed. “But I think I’ll just leave mine in the house for now.”

Addie’s basket was sitting upright and full to overflowing.  Achmed’s basket lay on its side, half its contents spilled out on the ground.  Betty and Clarise carefully retrieved only the whole undamaged berries. 

Betty’s basket and most of the fruit was ruined but they recovered enough berries to fill Achmed’s basket to overflowing too.  They reached the house just as the first state patrol car arrived, lights flashing but siren silent.

The patrolmen opened both doors and crouched behind them, weapons drawn.  Achmed and Addie, arms around each other’s waists, stood in the doorway.

“You all can calm down.  He’s gone.”  Addie called out serenely. 

The cops looked over Addie and Achmed, then noticed Betty and Clarise carrying berry baskets.  They looked at each other, stood up and holstered their sidearms. 

“We heard there was a shooting.”  The patrolman who was driving spoke up.

“There’s a bullet lodged in the kitchen wall. Probably one in the dining room somewhere and a few others scattered about the field.”  Betty answered.  “Addie managed to discourage them.”

Moments later the cavalry really did arrive. A veritable fleet of police vehicles from every branch led by Bill with Wes bringing up the rear.