Stiffs and Swine (10 page)

James saw Jimmy and Hailey standing expectantly in the front of the large crowd. Both Jimmy and his girlfriend wore bright red T-shirts that read,
The Pitmaster Loves a Tender Butt
. The competing teams wore color-coordinated shirts, hats, or aprons. James noticed that Jimmy’s team was the smallest and that most teams consisted of three or four members.

R. C. began his announcements by declaring that the entry from the Tenderizers had been disqualified due to the use of an illegal garnish. The three men in their team, wearing orange aprons bearing a black meat tenderizer in the center, began to shout at one another. Above their discord, the sound of Jimmy’s hoarse laughter could be heard.

“Dumb asses!” he shouted at them.

James thought Jimmy looked even worse than yesterday. His flesh appeared more swollen, and there were dark bags beneath his eyes. Of course, Jimmy wore his customary expression of amusement and was already muttering insults at the competition just as he had the evening before.

“Mr. Lang.” R. C. leaned toward Jimmy. Though he spoke away from the microphone, the warning in his voice was clear. “If you cannot behave in a civilized manner, I will ask you to leave the contest area.”

“Sure thing, boss. I’ll scoot off after you hand me my trophy!” Jimmy opened his arms, displaying a complete view of his enormous belly and sweat-soaked shirt.

Ignoring Jimmy, R. C. announced that the third-place winner, who would be awarded two hundred dollars cash, was the Marrow Men. The audience cheered as a man wearing overalls and a chef hat embroidered with flames and the name of his team accepted an envelope and a white silk ribbon. R. C. then called for a representative from the second-place team, the Thigh and Mighties. A middle-aged woman took the ribbon and the envelope from R. C.’s hand and then planted a big kiss on his cheek.

“This is our very first ribbon!” she exclaimed and waved it in the air. The crowd applauded her loudly and several people shouted congratulatory phrases such as “You go, girl!” and “Cook that ’cue!”

One of the other men from the Chamber of Commerce collected a small trophy with a blue ribbon attached to its base in order to present it to the winner. When R. C. announced that the Pitmasters had captured the first-place prize, Jimmy hollered with delight. The noise sounded strangled in his hoarse throat, but it was a triumphant howl all the same.

Pumping R. C.’s hand, Jimmy grabbed the microphone and said, “Get used to me, folks. I’m gonna be winnin’ all of these this weekend.” He then blew a kiss to Hailey and stepped to the side of the podium and surveyed the crowd, clearly wanting to bask in his victory a little longer. Trying his best to mask his irritation, R. C. reclaimed the microphone and began advising the audience about the time schedule for the remainder of the barbecue contests.

“I’m gonna get another blue ribbon tomorrow!” Jimmy tried to shout, but the words came out as a croak.

It was at this moment that Gillian appeared in the front row of the crowd. She waved at her friends and then her eyes fell on the figure of Jimmy Lang. As James and the other supper club members watched, Gillian stared at Jimmy, her eyes wide with shock. Slowly, as though her body found it difficult to function, Gillian walked toward Jimmy.

By this time, R. C. had completed his announcements and had switched off the microphone. The audience members had mostly dispersed, seeking lunch or their next round of entertainment. The barbecue contestants headed back toward the cooking area and Jimmy, who had been busy smiling at himself in the reflection of his trophy, finally realized that the show was over. No one except for Hailey waited to congratulate him. When he saw that Gillian was blocking his path, he paused and grinned at her. “Hey there, Red,” he said as though greeting a fan. “You waitin’ to shake the winner’s hand, huh? Maybe get a picture, too?”

Gillian didn’t answer. She kept staring at Jimmy, her face drained of all color. Her fists were clenched so tightly by her sides that her knuckles were moon-white, but her shoulders sagged as though a great weight had been placed upon her back.

“Little lady?” Jimmy cupped the trophy under one arm and scratched his shaved head in confusion. “Do I know you from somewhere?” He waited while Gillian mutely stared. “Well, if you’re gonna just stand there actin’ like a retard, then I’m outta here! I’m Jimmy Lang, future champion of Hog Fest, and I’ve got places to go!” He made a move to brush by Gillian.

Suddenly, her right arm shot out like a hammer and she hit Jimmy square in the nose with her closed fist.

“Yes, you know
me
!” Gillian shrieked as blood oozed forth from Jimmy’s nose. Absently rubbing her hands, she yelled in a voice torn with pain and grief—a voice her friends had never heard before. “And I know
you
! A day doesn’t go by that I don’t wish
you
were rotting in the ground!”

Tears fell down her face as she screamed, “How could I
ever
forget how much I
hate
you! YOU BASTARD! YOU
SHOULD KNOW ME!
YOU KILLED MY HUSBAND!”

To say that
James was stunned by Gillian’s words would be an understatement. He stared at his friend, who had covered her face with her hands and was crying hard, her shoulders shaking and the bangles on her arms clinking in disharmony. James blinked hard once, then again, but the reality remained unchanged. Gillian had been married? Or had his ears deceived him? Did Gillian just accuse Jimmy Lang of killing her husband?
What
husband?

James turned toward his other friends and could tell from their expressions that they too were bowled over by Gillian’s words. Even Hailey was awestruck. The only person who didn’t appear the slightest bit surprised was Jimmy. Cradling his nose with his meaty hand, he backed away from Gillian, grabbed Hailey by the arm, and walked off toward the cooking area. He never said a word.

Somehow, his departure allowed James to regain power over his own limbs. He moved toward Gillian, his right arm extended with an offering of a paper napkin.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he spoke to her softly, as though he were comforting a scared animal or frightened child. “Gillian. It’s okay. He’s gone now.”

Sensing that someone had spoken her name, Gillian raised a face awash in agony. Her eyes gazed unseeing at the napkin, at James, at the handful of gawking onlookers. Her closest friends stared back at her, blindsided into frozen silence. James could see that he would receive no immediate help from them, and while he stood there, desperately trying to think of some way to comfort Gillian, she suddenly turned and ran behind the tent, quickly disappearing in the mass of wandering festivalgoers.

A full thirty seconds later, Lindy whispered, “What just happened here?”

Instead of answering, Bennett walked back inside the tent where moments ago they had all been happily assessing the virtues and vices of barbecued brisket. The other supper club members watched him as he sank into one of the chairs and pulled at his mustache furiously. “Did that crazed woman actually say she had a husband?” he asked his friends as they fell into their own chairs.

“Yes,” Lucy replied. She blinked several times and then poured herself a glass of water from one of the pitchers on the table. She drank down the entire glass and then wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “A husband supposedly killed by Jimmy Lang.”

James shook his head. “So none of you knew she had been married?”

Lindy threw her hands wide in a gesture of helplessness. “Gillian has certainly never mentioned
that
little detail to
me
before!” She anxiously ran her hands through her black hair. “Maybe there was something in her falafel,” she suggested wildly. “Maybe her breakfast tea was spiked! Maybe she hung out with some of those dog people after their show and smoked a … I don’t know, a peace pipe! But
that
—,” she pointed outside the tent as though Gillian were still standing there, “that
person
was not the Gillian I know!”

James agreed with Lindy. Gillian was passionate about many topics, but in general, she had a calm and well-balanced nature. The explosion they had just witnessed followed by the intense crying and then the mad dash into the crowd were behaviors someone else might exhibit. Gillian, their animal- and earth-loving, tree-hugging, orange-haired friend, who favored tie-dying T-shirts or creating homeopathic remedies, wasn’t prone to dramatic outbursts.

“What should we do?” James asked. “Whatever’s going on, she’s obviously distraught. We should look for her—make sure she’s okay.”

Lucy nodded. “You’re right, James. But where did she go?”

“I think she’d want to get away from all this bustle,” Lindy said. “She may head back to the inn.”

“Why don’t you take the Jeep and see if you can find her?” Lucy proposed to Lindy. She then turned to Bennett and James. “We should split up. I could ask R. C. where the dog show people are staying and ask them if they saw or talked to Gillian before, well, before she came to meet us.”

“Hold the phone, folks.” Bennett was still yanking on his mustache. “What if what Gillian said is true? She had a man and that man was somehow hurt by this Jimmy fellow.” His dark eyes were lit with anger. “I’m gonna talk to that loudmouth SOB and see what he’s got to say for himself. You notice he was mighty quiet after Gillian blasted him. He didn’t deny a thing.”

“Well, she
did
clock him in the nose,” Lindy argued. “I think he was trying to stop the blood flow.”

“Hell of a shot she gave him,” Bennett said in admiration. “But I saw the big man’s expression. I think that ole hillbilly recognized Gillian.”

James couldn’t shake the image of the pain in Gillian’s voice and the anguish in her face. “I’m going with you, Bennett. Let’s get to the bottom of this whole thing right now.”

Lucy held up her cell phone. “Call me if you guys find out anything,” she commanded.

As James and Bennett walked toward the cooking area, the sky mirrored their mood. Dark gray clouds, swollen with unshed rain, massed over their heads. A light wind foreshadowed the coming storm by pushing at flags, banners, and pinwheels. There was an urgent feeling among the crowd that hadn’t existed an hour earlier. People moved more quickly, hoping to reach their next destination before the rain, and James noticed that some of the noncompeting cooks had stowed away their barbecue equipment in exchange for windbreakers and coolers of beer. They gathered into groups, settling on folding lawn chairs or the stoops of their campers, and gossiped, sharing bottle openers and bags of potato chips as they watched the sky.

For the professional teams, however, the weather made no difference. Their cookers were stoked, the smoke was rising, and the team members were huddled together holding earnest conversations. By this time, no doubt, word of the drama that occurred immediately after Jimmy won the brisket competition was spreading through the rows of RVs, folding campers, and travel trailers like a brushfire.

“I, um, don’t think we can just waltz up to his door and demand an explanation,” James said. He felt a surge of his customary sense of caution return as soon as Jimmy’s RV came into view.

“Maybe he’ll be outside.” Bennett shook a festival schedule. “The chicken and rib contests are comin’ up tomorrow. If he plans to be the champion, he’s likely practicin’ different sauces and infusions and rubs already.”

“Let’s just peek around the back of his camper,” James suggested.

As the two men approached the RV with as much stealth as they could muster, it was quite obvious that Jimmy and his girlfriend were not holed up inside the vehicle. In fact, Hailey was demanding to know the reason behind Gillian’s allegation and she wasn’t bothering to keep her voice lowered. James was sure most of the neighboring campers could hear her shrill, rapid-fire questions.

Jimmy, on the other hand, replied to the barrage in a bored tone. “I told you, sugar baby, that woman’s soft in the head. I don’t know nothin’ about her.”

“But you did fifteen years, Jimmy. You told me that when we met durin’ those counseling sessions for criminals aimin’ to turn their lives around. You was just like me, Jimmy, ’cept I was doin’ time for possession of marijuana and you
said
you were doin’ time for dealin’.” She paused. “We were battlin’ the same demons. Drugs. It’s what bonded us durin’ group therapy. Right?”

“That’s right, doll, and we’re both clean as rocks polished by the river, so can we have a beer and get on with mixin’ up the mop for the chicken?” James could barely understand Jimmy, as his voice had grown even more hoarse.

“Forget the beer,” Hailey answered testily. “Yeah, that woman seemed a little wacko, but seein’
you
is what made her come all unhinged. You’d better be straight with me, Jimmy, ’cause if I find out you’re lyin’ to me about why you were in jail …” She trailed off as though trying to come up with a solid threat.

“You’ll what?” Jimmy pounced on her unfinished words. “You’ll take your fat, Bible-readin’ ass off elsewhere? I’d like to see
that
day! Who would want you?”

James and Bennett exchanged startled glances.

“Ouch,” Bennett whispered, touching his palm to his heart.

“Man, what a charmer,” James murmured.

“Lots of men would! ’Specially barbecue cooks!” Hailey spluttered angrily. “You
know
you’d never win a single contest without my help!” After Jimmy offered no comeback, she sniffed and then walked toward the camper’s door. “I’ll be inside readin’ my
In Touch
magazine. If you want help on that chicken mop, and you know you’re gonna need it, you can come get me. And when you do, it’d better be with an apology and the truth about that redhead on your lips! Otherwise, stay out there and kiss all your blue ribbons goodbye.”

James and Bennett heard Hailey’s heavy tread on the RV’s steps followed by the muffled footsteps of her moving around within the large vehicle.

“Hush up, woman!” Jimmy made his way to the closed door and hit it with what sounded like a metal cooking tool. “You talk like that again so’s folks can hear, and I’ll shut your big mouth for good! I can take those blue ribbons or leave ’em. I got a whole ’nother reason for bein’ here!”

Hailey didn’t answer, but James could hear cupboards being opened and forcefully closed again. A few seconds later, a radio was switched on and the volume turned loud enough for James, Bennett, and half the campground to discern that Hailey was listening to church hymns.

“Sounds like Jimmy may not be the
real
Pitmaster,” Bennett whispered to James. James nodded and then took a quick glance around the corner of the RV. Jimmy was standing near his cooker, his face tilted toward the sky. Muttering angrily, he rubbed his arms.

“Stupid redheaded bitch,” he said, spitting on the ground in a way that reminded James of the angry action taken by the female dog owner the day before. “Of all places for her to turn up.” He rubbed the skin on his arms vigorously and then turned back to the RV.

“Hailey, baby. I’m sorry.” Jimmy mounted the first step, causing the RV to keel slightly, and knocked at the locked door. “Could you please gimme my flannel shirt? It’s gettin’ right chilly out here. Come on, baby. You know I’m nothin’ without you. Open up and let me give ya a nice backrub.” He knocked harder. “Hailey!”

After a pause, the door opened and Hailey said, “You want a shirt? You want a mop for the chicken? You want lots of stuff. Then it’s time to repent, Jimmy Lang. Come inside and confess your sins.”

Grumbling, Jimmy hesitated for a moment and then disappeared into the camper. No more sounds were heard above the muted organ melodies blended with the harmonious voices of a large choir.