Barbara Graham - Quilted 04 - Murder by Vegetable (10 page)

The Elves stopped singing, which inspired a wave of enthusiastic applause. Everyone smiled, clearly relieved to have it over and done, performers as much as the audience. The Elves took a bow. As they headed from the stage, they received another big ovation. Luckily there was no time allowed for encores.

The Elves looked excited by their warm reception. Tony wondered if the audience ought to have provided so much encouragement. The way he saw it, either the Elves would plan on performing at every public event, or they would head for Nashville, expecting to make it big. He hated for the kids to be crushed. On the other hand, he'd heard worse sounds on the radio, so maybe they would end up being rich and famous and having groupies follow them around. The idea made him laugh out loud. A few heads turned his way, but no one asked him what he thought was so funny.

Miracles do happen. The sound system recovered from its technical difficulties just in time for Mayor Cashdollar to announce the next part of the entertainment. The vegetable weapons were going to fire their first rounds, and he directed the audience's attention toward the field.

At the far end of the museum property, a colorful series of pennants separated the food, crafts, and music portion of the festival from the vegetable warfare, as Tony thought of it. Quentin prepared to blast a potato from his cannon. Roscoe and his lady friend stood next to their small trebuchet, and a visiting scholar from the medieval club waited near his catapult. The group had arranged everything so the festival goers would be able to see both the machines do their work and the result of their collection of vegetables striking the targets.

Tony heard the cannon boom and saw a potato fly through the air and slam into a temporary wall of straw bales, totally missing the target, a stock tank filled with water and little yellow rubber ducks.

Even without hitting the intended target, Quentin and his cannon received wild applause. Turning to face the audience, Quentin crossed an arm over his waist and made quite a courtly bow.

The medieval scholar with the catapult fired next. The roly-poly visitor was obviously having a great time. Whenever Tony saw him, the man wore a wide grin. Dressed in a period costume of black tights and what looked like a long crimson shirt, the little man looked like a bright red apple with toothpicks for arms and legs and a red “Robin Hood” hat with long pheasant feathers hanging off the back of his head. His catapult was a fairly straightforward weapon—it worked like an oversized spoon in a food fight. The catapult threw a small pumpkin, probably past its prime. The orange projectile slammed into the front of the stock tank and shattered, sending a plume of rotting vegetable marrow into the air. The audience cheered and clapped. The owner tipped his plumed hat.

Even from this distance, Tony saw the little man's belly bounce as he laughed.

Roscoe and Veronica's trebuchet was the oddest of the three weapons. What looked like a net holding a melon dangled from the weapon's arm. The couple cocked the thing with a lever, then fired. Tony wasn't quite sure what happened. A counter-weight pushed back, the arm flung the net up and released the melon. It flew through the air, crashing into the stock tank and sending rubber ducks splashing onto the grass. The cheer was tremendous.

Veronica gave Roscoe a big kiss. If possible, the onlookers' enthusiasm for the kiss was even greater than for the duck splash. Veronica made a curtsey and threw the audience a kiss as well.

The performance was scheduled to occur again in half an hour. Tony was having a great time. He couldn't imagine watching anything more fun than flying vegetables at a festival celebrating spring and a noxious vegetable.

He still had an hour before it was time to change into his can-can ensemble. He already wore the sleeveless black T-shirt under his regular shirt and shorts and his hiking boots. At least he was not in uniform. When it was closer to performance time, he'd remove his outer shirt, add the skirt, wig, and bonnet. The comedian in charge of wigs had supplied him with long curls exactly matching the improbable red of Blossom's hair.

“So, who's the handsome newcomer dancing with Blossom?” Theo whispered into her mother-in-law's ear. “I'm sure I'd remember seeing him before.”

Jane's answering sigh didn't mean she took her eyes off the couple dancing. “He's the new dentist in Tiberius's office group. He's not from the area and thought it would be fun to see our festival and meet the rest of the Abernathy family.”

“Why weren't we introduced?” Theo frowned at her brother-in-law. Berry stood on the far side of Jane.

“I met him.” Jane turned. “We were all together this morning. At breakfast.” She waited a moment, then added. “At Ruby's. Honestly Theo, don't you remember?”

Theo remembered she hadn't gone to Ruby's Café for breakfast because she had been too busy packing everything she could possibly need for the day's outing with two infants and two rambunctious boys and a quilting demonstration featuring herself. The boys had gone with Tony, and she and the baby girls had taken a little nap. Survival strategy. No one bothered to mention the handsome new dental partner. “I wasn't there.”

“Really?” For a moment it looked like Jane was going to argue the point. “Oh, that's right. It was just Tony and the boys. There was a mob at the table, and I was sitting next to Dr. Looks-so-good. I wasn't paying attention to much else.”

Theo's laugh burst free, drawing several glances. “Is that his name?”

Jane actually blushed. “No. I was too busy staring at him to hear what Tiberius said his name actually is, so I made one up.”

“It certainly fits.”

“Yes it does, dear. Just because I'm older than you doesn't make me blind.”

“Dr. Looks-so-good?” Nina laughed. “Our Jane gave him the name? Well, I must agree. The name does have a certain resonance.” She tilted her head slightly watching the dentist, now dancing with Martha. “I may have to develop some dental issues.”

“I'll bet his entire practice is women's dentistry.”

A couple of the quilters overheard the conversation. One suggested they plan a field trip day to Knoxville; they could visit all the fabric stores, have lunch, and drop by the dentist's office just to have a look.

“Do you think he knows DuWayne and Kenny are probably looking into hiring a hit man?” Nina glanced over to where Blossom was now dancing with her regular pair of suitors. “Two's company and three's a crowd.”

“At least the men are smiling again. For a moment I was afraid there was going to be violence.”

Theo saw Katti and Claude Marmot arrive in her pink convertible. Katti jumped out in a swirl of black and pink polka dots and trotted over to Theo, or, more accurately, to Theo's twins. She cooed and patted their chubby cheeks and whispered things in Russian to them. They grinned back.

“You have smart babies.” Katti hugged Theo. “Already they know Katti's language.”

Theo agreed. Since Katti became her personal assistant, she had thrown Russian words into their conversations for months. And since Theo was a proud mom, she certainly wouldn't discourage Katti from praising her children.

Katti patted her polka dot–covered belly. “I have baby too. I wait to tell all as Missus Ruby deserved days of celebration first.”

“How wonderful!” Theo hugged Katti. “When are you due?”

“When is?” Katti asked Claude. Before he had a chance to open his mouth, Katti chattered on. “Is holiday.”

“Halloween.” Claude kissed his wife's cheek. “A fun day, my sweet, but not a holiday.”

Theo was mesmerized by the difference in Claude since his mail-order bride arrived. It was hard to call him Marmot-the-Varmint anymore. His wife had civilized and transformed Claude, at least the exterior. “Theo.” He tipped an imaginary hat to her. “Excuse us but I'm going to dance with my wife before I have to dance with your husband. I'll leave it to you to decide how to combine pink with pumpkins and spooks.”

Jolted by Claude's vision of a baby quilt, pronounced just as she tried to swallow her cold drink, Theo started laughing, choked, and blew lemon-lime soda through her nose. Valentine's Day meets Halloween? Impossible. She glanced furtively around as she mopped her face with a baby wipe. “What if it's a boy?”

Theo needed a break. Her cheeks hurt from all the smiling she'd been doing. She'd chatted and stamped hands as proof of payment, and now was working hard to keep a happy expression on her face when she was actually ready to drop. The girls were getting cranky, and so was she. She wouldn't say it was all bad. She'd had a good time for a while, chatting with folks she rarely saw and hearing compliments on the twins. Now she wanted some peace. The twins wanted lunch.

“Can you believe the crowd?” Nina shimmied into the folding chair next to her. “And hand over the money box and stamp.”

“You're my replacement?” Theo turned.

“Yep.” Nina scooted closer. “I thought I'd give you time for a break before you have to do your quilting demonstration. What quilting technique are you planning to show a mixed group like this one?”

“Before or after I strangle my mother-in-law?” Theo massaged her back with one hand. “To answer your question, I decided English paper piecing is simple enough for beginners and requires no sewing machine and not much skill. I really need to grow a spine.”

“Too late, dearie. Everyone already knows you're a pushover.” Nina offered her a cookie. “You've got to try one of these. It's sinful. I'm not sure what's in it besides oats and chocolate and pecans. Blossom says Tony loves them, and they're her new favorite to bake.”

At that point, Theo might have chewed on a rock if it was painted to look like chocolate. She nibbled on a corner of the cookie and moaned. “That is
so
good. No wonder Blossom has so many men chasing her.” She chewed quietly, letting Nina handle the incoming tide of festival attendees.

Jocko, Geordie, and Shawn, the three Farquhar “darlin' boys” tried to slip past without paying while Nina was taking money, making change, and stamping the hands of a family of four. Theo stepped in front of them to make them stop. She had known them all their lives and didn't like any of them. She couldn't tell them apart. One of them had a patch of whiskers on his neck—Theo didn't know which “boy”—from the front it looked like a tiny goatee but from the side it turned into an unshaved group of hairs. There was no chin. None of them was under thirty or gainfully employed in honest work. They were universally shifty, dishonest, and spewed profanity and tobacco juice like crazy. They ran in a pack, and Theo wasn't sure any of them could function alone. Of course, being the nephews of Angus didn't give them much of a chance to learn better. No, that wasn't a fair excuse. Theo remembered their late aunt had tried to civilize them, but not even one was interested in her lessons.

Theo wrested seven dollars from each of them, which she assumed was stolen, before she left Nina to deal with the table and pushed the stroller toward the museum office. She planned to rest for a few minutes and feed the girls before her demonstration.

Tony's vantage point allowed him to keep an eye on the entrance. He watched Nina join Theo, and saw the women dealing with festival attendees and the Farquhars. Seeing no reason to interfere, he returned to his supervision of the scouts and their cleanup program. He did make sure all of his deputies knew the location of the darlin' boys. Prevention was the motto. Keep the day safe and enjoyable for everyone.

A squabble on the far side of the grounds was turning ugly, but it looked like Wade had it under control. Tony wasn't stupid. He knew some people would smuggle alcohol onto the premises in flasks or the more inventive gelatin concoctions, and as long as they were adults and not overdoing it, he didn't care. His men would keep an extra sharp eye on them as they left.

He saw Theo and the infants vanish into the office and made his way there. Feeding time with only one person was horrendous. He considered Theo's relieved smile more than generous thanks. “Are you having any fun at all?”

Theo, busy gulping water from her insulated bottle, nodded. Water splashed onto her neck and made her squeal. “That's what I deserve for being piggy. It is tiring but fun.” She offered a cookie to him. “Nina and I tried some of Blossom's new cookie recipe. Have you tasted one?”

“Are you kidding? You know my whole office is filled with her official taste testers.” Tony patted his stomach. “I do think her new cookie is splendid.”

Theo shook her head in mock despair. “You know, my friends are concerned you'll run off with Blossom, lured away from a loving family with brown sugar and nuts. Does she cook anything not filled with those ingredients?”

“Nothing I'd want to eat.” Tony headed for the door, a baby draped over his arm, a baby bottle in one hand. “We'll be outside.”

“I didn't mean to kill her.”

Theo heard a man's low-pitched voice somewhere behind her. His words fell into one of the odd silences that sometimes occur in a generally noisy gathering, almost like everyone paused to take a breath and listen to what he had to say. Theo didn't recognize the voice. She tried to move her head just a bit to pick up more of the conversation. Her quilting demonstration blissfully brief, Theo had returned to her post, sitting at the ticket table. Nina left; going to check on her children as well as Theo's.

“What good does it do to talk about it now? Dead is dead.” A woman's voice, also unfamiliar, held no discernable emotion. “What did you do with her body?”

Theo teetered backwards on her chair, wanting to hear more, hoping to see who was talking. The maneuver got her maybe an inch closer.

“I buried her in the—” The rest of his words vanished in the boom of Quentin's cannon and the wild applause from the crowd.

“No.” Theo almost shrieked in frustration. Eavesdropping was impossible now with all the cheering and commotion. She considered standing on her little table so she could see better and maybe try to memorize every unfamiliar face. Better yet, she wanted to back up time and move close to the conversation, maybe take a picture of whoever was talking with her cell phone. Behind her she saw a short, middle-aged man wearing a plaid shirt and khaki pants held up by wide suspenders. His companion was certainly exotic for Silersville. Thin, and very tall, he wore a long black leather coat with a hood. The hood was up but didn't disguise the skeletally narrow, almost transparently colorless face and shaved head. The angel of death. She looked for Tony, thinking he might know who they were.