A Fair to Die For (3 page)

“That’s intriguing.”

“Don’t make too much of it. Dull stuff. But I really would like to know more about your life, what you enjoy doing, all that. Please tell me about you.”

So Carrie did, talking briefly about her time at the university, her work at the library, and living at home with her folks until she was nearly thirty. She told Edie about meeting Amos McCrite, a successful and respected criminal lawyer, when she was assigned to help him with research in old microfiche files at the library.

“He invited me out to dinner a couple of times, which was a huge surprise. Then he asked me to marry him.”

“Oh my, how romantic.”

“Not at all. He made it clear it was really a business arrangement. Having a presentable wife with a friendly personality would be a good career move. He didn’t promise romance—simply friendship, a nice home, and security.”

Edie started to say something, stopped, gave her a pitying look and finally managed another “Oh, my.”

“It suited me. I wanted a home of my own. I wanted children. I said ‘yes.’”

“I hate to pry, but how did it work out? Were you happy?”

“Yes, especially after our son Rob was born.”

“Son? So you did, uh, connect?”

Carrie laughed in spite of what she considered the personal nature of the question. “Interesting way to put it, but yes, we connected enough for Rob to appear.”

“You said on the phone that Amos had been killed. How did that happen, or is it too painful to talk about?”

“It’s not painful now. We thought it was a hunting accident, but, some time after I moved here, we discovered it was murder. Amos was about to expose a business associate’s criminal activities.

“Henry and I had already met through a neighborhood organization formed to fight the siting of a stone quarry in the lovely valley below here. Then the woman who’d begun the organization was killed. Henry had known her years earlier when both of them lived in Kansas City, and he and I joined efforts to figure out what had really happened to her, and why. Evidence I understood, and the sheriff’s deputies didn’t, told the two of us her death had been no accident. Things kind of developed from there. We were able to prove that both her death and Amos’s were murder.”

“What a fascinating story! But couldn’t you have been in danger?”

Carrie shrugged. “There was some danger involved, but it all worked out okay. Henry and I became good friends after that, and, under rather unusual circumstances, we’ve worked together to figure out background facts surrounding three or four other murders here in Arkansas. The crimes had nothing to do with us, but happened near places we were visiting. Henry is retired from the Kansas City Police Department, so he’s pretty good at that sort of investigation, and as for me, well, I can sometimes help because I understand people.” She laughed. “That’s one advantage of a long life, isn’t it?”

Edie was studying her thoughtfully. She remained quiet for so long that Carrie was about to ask if she wanted something more to drink simply to break the awkward silence. Then her cousin said, slowly, “This is all very interesting. I’d like to hear more about your experiences since you met Henry. It sounds as if the two of you have very special skills.”

“Well, maybe so. We do enjoy solving puzzles. But tell me more about yourself now. I admit I haven’t been able to remember anything about the time when you and your parents lived in Tulsa. I guess you’re right, I was too young. Later, my folks never talked about a sister or her family. Lots of missing pages. Since you called, one thing I’ve wondered is if I had additional cousins. Do you have younger brothers or sisters?”

“No, I ended up being an only. And you and I never saw each other after the move because there was a serious break between our families.”

“Why? Do you know?”

“I know more than I admitted when I called you. They never discussed it with me back then, but Mother says now that your folks considered my father a criminal. They didn’t want his activities to contaminate or endanger their family, especially their precious little daughter.”

Carrie said, “Oh, Edie, surely . . . ”

Edie uttered a sharp “Shhh” and, startled by this, Carrie stopped talking. She watched her cousin look around the room, then back at her before she continued in a monotone, “My father may have been involved in some kind of illegal drug business. Suspecting that has brought years of grief to my mother.”

Carrie was unable to stop her quick intake of breath. She put her hand over her mouth and said nothing, mostly because she couldn’t think what to say.

“I guess you’re aware of the huge problems illegal drugs cause in this country?”

“Of course. One can’t avoid knowing. The news is full of it almost every evening. Columbia, Mexico, poppy fields in Afghanistan, meth labs in our neighborhoods, all the ruined lives. Henry and I were even involved in a small way in stopping a very large marijuana growing and distributing business a couple of years ago.”

“Either of you ever use recreational drugs? Maybe in the sixties?”

When Carrie just stared at her, Edie said hurriedly, “Sorry. That’s an impertinent question. Forget it.”

“Well, the answer is no, speaking personally. I really don’t know about Henry, but as a man in a job that wouldn’t tolerate drug use—a cop who was tested for drugs periodically—I doubt it, though I have never asked him.”

“Implying I shouldn’t have asked you. Well, you’re right, I shouldn’t have.”

Edie wasn’t aware that Henry had finished in the kitchen and was standing in the doorway behind her, but now he came to join them. “Did I hear my name?”

Neither of them said anything. The only sound was the soft swish of the dishwasher and an occasional bird call from the forest outside.

Finally, after a brief nod to Henry, Edie continued. “I’ve never really understood which side of the law my father was on. I suspect it might have been both sides, and that could be the reason he disappeared. Somebody found out. Somebody took exception. Somebody killed him.”

“Do you really want to tell us this? I think . . .”

Edie held up her hand, silencing Carrie again. “No! I don’t want to hear any pious protests. I came here wondering how much of my father’s story I would be able to tell you. I feel okay sharing it now. Learning more about what happened to Dad is important to me, especially for my mother’s sake, and I can use your help, if you’re willing. But first you need to hear some history—some perspective.

“Addictive drugs have been a problem in this country for much longer than you probably suspect. During many of the years when various drugs were openly available, they were thought of as more benefit than problem. That, in itself, caused problems, though I think it justifies—or at least explains—people’s interest in those drugs and their eventual addiction. I’m not excusing criminal activity, but many of the victims shouldn’t be thought of as criminals, then or now.

“Marijuana was actually grown in Jamestown Colony as early as 1600. It was called hemp, and mostly grown for fiber, but smoking hashish, a version of marijuana, became popular to some degree, and had spread far and wide by the 19
th
century. It was thought to relieve all kinds of troubles—medical and mental.”

Carrie, concealing her surprise with difficulty, said, “It sounds like you’ve done a lot of research.”

Edie snorted. “You might say I have a family interest. My mother . . . well, I would like to find out what my father’s business really was in the hope it will bring her peace. She’s had to bear the sadness and uncertainty for so long.”

Edie shut her eyes for a moment before she continued. “Opium was originally prescribed for female complaints and much more. Started out good, ended up bad. Coca Cola syrup really did have cocaine in it at the beginning. And, why not? In 1886, the Surgeon-General of the United States Army endorsed the medical use of cocaine.

“Then there’s morphine. It was used as an injectable pain reliever during the Civil War. As a result, heroin was being marketed as a so-called cure, or at least a substitute, for morphine addiction by 1898.

“And, what about meth? I’d bet you think of it as a relatively new drug, but amphetamine was first synthesized in 1887, and widely distributed to soldiers during and after World War II to counteract fatigue and fight depression. Addictive drugs, most of them first used medicinally, have been part of our country’s history, beginning in Jamestown a hundred and seventy-five years before we even were a country. I can’t help but wonder what miracle drug today will become a public nightmare tomorrow.”

Henry said, “Excellent point, and some doctors and pharmacists openly agree with you. The problem is made worse today because misuse of prescription drugs by teens is causing addiction, even deaths. But Edie, terrible problems with drugs once thought beneficial are far from being the only drug problem in the United States.”

“I know. But I have wondered if my father wasn’t in pharmaceuticals. That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Well,” Carrie said, “if he was, then why any need for secrecy?” She immediately wished she’d kept her mouth shut, and looked at Henry in dismay. His returning look was bland, but it included the tiniest hint of a smile.

“We may never know,” he said. “So, Edie, tell us more about your work, and what growing up in Washington, DC was like.”

That was that. It was obvious Henry didn’t want to be involved in this cousin-or-not’s quest for the truth about her father, and Carrie wondered whether she did . . . or not.

Chapter Three
HERE AND WHERE

The remainder of the afternoon was spent talking about family news, looking at Carrie’s box of pictures, then moving to the deck so they could enjoy the warm afternoon and hint of fall color. While they were outside, Edie often seemed to fade into her own private world, sitting silently and looking out into the forest.

Carrie thought she understood that. Visitors from a city were usually enchanted by this close contact with nature. During Edie’s silent periods both Carrie and Henry were also quiet, though Carrie’s mind was busy, wondering what the woman might be thinking. Guests at Blackberry Hollow often commented on their location in the middle of a forest, appreciating the peace they felt, and asking questions about this bird or that tree. Edie, however, kept her thoughts and any questions to herself.

I kind of like her,
Carrie decided.
But she never laughs. Smiles only rarely. Does her quest to learn more about her father cause that, or is there some other burden weighing on her? I wish I could cheer her up. I hope she’s enjoying her time here, and our company. At least we’re providing a change of pace for her.

When the afternoon sun began tingeing everything with gold, Carrie wondered briefly if she should invite Edie to spend the night, then immediately discarded that idea. Instead, she asked “Do you plan to drive back to Tulsa this evening?

“No, I have a motel reservation in town,” Edie said, “but I would like to take you two to dinner. Any suggestions?

Henry asked Edie the name of her motel, then suggested a restaurant near there.

“Before we go,” Carrie said, “let me bring some of my scarves to show you. I think a scarf would look very nice with your outfit, and they’re so easy to pack. I’d love to give you one of mine to remember me by.”

As they left the restaurant, Carrie said, “Edie, would you enjoy seeing more of this area? We can pick you up at your motel in the morning and give you a tour if you like.”

“Yes, I would like that. I’m in no rush to move on.”

“Great. Shall we pick you up at nine?”

“Make it ten, if you don’t mind,” Edie said. “I wake up slowly, and I need to take care of some e-mail and a phone call to Mom in the morning. I do look forward to seeing the sights in your area, though. Isn’t War Eagle an attraction in this part of Arkansas? I’ve heard of it. Can we go there, or is it too far?”

“I bet you mean War Eagle Mill, though there are several attractions in the area named War Eagle, including a lovely river and a cave. Nice to learn their reputation has reached the East Coast. They deserve it. We’ll plan on visiting the mill tomorrow. It’s not terribly far from here, thirty miles or so, and we go there several times a year. They sell stone ground flours and grains, and quite a few flour-based mixes. It’s a working mill, begun around 1830’s, and you can watch them at work while you’re there. It’s fun. When the mill is grinding, the whole building rumbles.

“I’m out of their biscuit mix, so a visit tomorrow would suit me fine. We can have lunch in the Bean Palace Restaurant on the top floor of the mill. Henry and I always enjoy that.”

“I heard they have an extensive crafts display. Hundreds of crafters there?”

“No, not unless you mean the War Eagle Craft Fair. It’s held on grounds across the river from the mill in October. War Eagle Mill has its own fair next to the mill at the same time. If it’s crafts you want, you’re lucky. Fall Craft Fair weekend begins next Thursday.”

“Oh. So we won’t see crafts tomorrow?”

“They do sell some in the mill’s gift shop, but you’ll have to wait a few more days to see hundreds of crafts around the mill; at the main fair area across the river and, in fact, all over Northwest Arkansas. The War Eagle Fair itself has been increasing in importance every year since it began around sixty years ago. Now it, plus many of the other fairs in Northwest Arkansas, are absolutely huge. Fair weekend here has become a Mecca for crafters, and Henry says the Arkansas Ozarks must sink several inches during craft fair weekends since so many people come to the state. Matter of fact, we have a friend displaying at the War Eagle Fair this year, and I’ll be working there with her.” Carrie paused, glanced at Henry, and said, “Edie, if you plan to be here awhile, would you like to move to our guest bedroom?”

“Thanks, but no. I’m a pretty independent person.”

“Okay, I can understand that. So, we’ll pick you up at the motel tomorrow morning.”

“Good. Ten o’clock. And thank you again for the lovely scarf. I think the rusty fall leaf print goes well with my suit.”