Stiffs and Swine (24 page)

“That’s a
fine
piece of pie,” Bennett declared as he pushed his blueberry-stained paper plate away. He smiled at James, displaying a row of purple teeth.

“You’d better brush those not-so-pearly whites before you see your sheriff again,” James teased as Bennett frantically ran his tongue over his upper teeth.

“Your fangs ain’t exactly gleaming white either, my friend,” Bennett countered and then looked at his watch. “Uh-oh. Time to stand up and act official. Come on, man. All we gotta do is make sure the contestants don’t use their hands to eat their pie and place a new one in front of them once their dish is totally empty. Easy.”

James took up his station in front of a pair of newlyweds who got so involved in kissing each other for luck that R. C. had to blow the start whistle twice in order to get their attention. Their demonstration of affection caused them to be several bites behind the remaining eighteen contestants once they finally planted their faces into the center of their pies.

The contestants looked like pigs at the trough, burying their mouths and noses into the deep blue filling and scooping up the crust with their front teeth. At first, James found their slurping and squelching noises comical, but as the first round of pies were consumed and he had to slide two fresh pies beneath the stained and crumb-covered faces of the contestants before him, he began to feel slightly disgusted.

By the time the newlyweds had started on their third pie, half of the contestants had dropped out. James noticed several older men cleaning their faces with moist wipes as they held on to their bloated stomachs. At the very end of the table, right in front of Lindy, a handsome man in his early thirties suddenly dashed away from the table and bent over the closest garbage can, his entire torso heaving as he threw up the two pies he had already consumed.

“You’re
so
disqualified!” one of Mrs. Phelps’ helpers jeered at the man. Lindy scowled at the impolite boy and then placed a gentle hand on the sick man’s back. After he had emptied his stomach, she handed him several napkins and a tall glass of water. Encouraged by her kindness, the man smiled and waved at the crowd. He then wobbled off to an empty seat, his skin still a bit green beneath the faint stain of blueberry.

After this unpleasant incident, James had the unfortunate task of disqualifying the newlywed wife for using her fingers to shovel a particularly slippery bite of pie into her mouth. Frustrated with his own inability to completely empty his pie dish, her husband followed suit a few minutes later, and the lovebirds sat sulkily and watched the remaining three contestants as they made slow headway into their fourth pie.

Once he no longer had an official responsibility, James decided to seize on the opportunity to find out more about the expected “score” the young men had mentioned to Mrs. Phelps. Hoping to appear as though he were merely in search of shade, James sauntered casually to the side of the disheveled young man whose name Mrs. Phelps had recalled as being Donny Trotman.

“You guys sure unloaded a lot of pies,” James remarked pleasantly to the boy. “And in this heat.” He wiped his brow with a napkin to emphasize the point.

“Yeah. And man, I hope she sells the rest of ’em so we don’t have to put any back in the van,” he replied in a bored tone. “I’m sick of pies.”

“You know,” James glanced at him briefly, “I’m not staring at you, but you look just like a kid I know from Quincy’s Gap. His name’s Martin.”

Donny frowned, offended at being referred to as a ‘kid.’ “Martin’s my first cousin. How do
you
know him?” He scrutinized James’s creased khakis, spotless glasses, and leather loafers in disdain.

“Oh,” James said smugly, forcing his gaze to remain on the pie eaters, “let’s just say he and I share the same
hobby
.” And then as subtly as possible, James pinched his thumb and index finger together and mimed an inhalation.

“Dude.
All right.
” Even Donny’s exclamations were tinged with lethargy.

“Know where a guy can score some around here?” James muttered out of the side of his mouth.

Donny paused and then held out his hand. “Yeah, I can tell you how, but you gotta make it worth my while.”

Struggling not to show his dislike for Donny or for the sour, pungent odor that arose from the boy’s unwashed clothes and skin, James pulled out his wallet, extracted a twenty, and, after folding it in half, placed it on a palm stained with blueberries, flour, and dirt. Thinking that he might actually have consumed a pie created by Donny’s filthy hands, James fought down the bile rising in his belly.

“Did you bake any of those?” he asked with dread, gesturing at the dozens of pies for sale.

“Hell, no. I ain’t no girl.” Donny spit on the ground as a sign of his masculinity. “Listen. If you wanna get hooked up, meet me ’round six at the bleachers where all the big shows are put on. During the closing ceremony, we can get what we came here for and then split.”

“Do you always buy from the same … contact?” James hoped that his choice of words sounded legitimate. When Donny’s face clouded over with annoyance, he knew that he had misspoken.

“Contact?”
The boy scowled hard. “What are you, like, a cop? Piss off, man.” Donny clumped away.

Suddenly, the crowd’s cheers swelled and James saw that R. C. was holding the victor’s hand high into the air as he proclaimed a twig of a girl the winner of the pie-eating contest.

“
Where
did you put over eight pounds of pie?” R. C. inquired and then held his cordless microphone below her blue chin.

“I’ve been stretching my stomach over at the Golden Corral,” the young woman announced. “I’m a hostess there.”

“But you have no stomach!” R. C. declared.

“Well, two babies have grown in there already, so I know it can stretch,” she answered with a charming smile. “And them kids’ll sure appreciate this prize money and the gift certificate to the bakery, too. Easiest money I’ve ever made! I
love
pie!”

“Congratulations to all of our contestants! Don’t forget to purchase your own scrumptious blueberry pie and don’t leave before the drawing for a brand-new recreational vehicle, which will occur at this evening’s closing ceremony!” R. C. called to the crowd. “Sponsored by Richter’s RV Sales & Rentals!”

As R. C. continued with a few other announcements, James grabbed Lucy by the arm and pulled her to a semi-private area on the far side of the bakery van.

“I think I’ve got part of this puzzle figured out, Lucy.” He dabbed at his sweating temples with a fresh napkin. “These kids came to Hog Fest specifically to buy the laced pot. They’ve gotten it here before and have come back for more. They buy as much as they can afford, and then I think
they
resell at least a part of it. In fact, I think this stuff may have gotten into
my
library through the hands of a rising high school senior named Martin Trotman, though I have no way to prove it.”

Lucy digested this information. “And these kids think the deal’s still on? Even though Jimmy’s dead?”

James shook his head. “I don’t know who their contact is. Maybe they don’t realize that Jimmy’s dead or that the Jimmy who died is their seller. Who knows? Maybe Jimmy didn’t do the actual selling. You know, I could call the Fitzgerald twins and have them look up which festivals Jimmy and Mitch Walker attended at the same time. If they were partners in this nasty business, then a pattern should be there—something tangible you can show to the sheriff.”

“Why me?” Lucy looked taken aback. “
You’re
the one figuring this out, James.”

He touched her arm. “Any credibility you can get will only help advance your career. If you assist in a drug bust in Hudsonville that has effects in our own county, then you’ll be irreplaceable!”

Lucy leaned over and kissed James on the cheek. “You are the greatest guy, James.” She patted him on the chest. “You always put other people before yourself. It just makes me want to wrap my arms around you in front of this whole crowd.”

Filled with a confusing mixture of happiness and alarm, James was both relieved and disappointed when Gillian bounded over, trailing Deputy Harding in her wake.

“They’ve found Hailey! She spent some time alone, walking by the river. Like me, she ended up meeting Felicity and the two exchanged stories. Hailey begged for forgiveness for Jimmy’s behavior and Felicity
freely
gave it to her! As a result of this
bonding
, Hailey decided to keep going with the competition.
She rented her own RV and bought a cheap grill from Wal-Mart. I guess she wanted to enter the final contest with no distractions. If she wins, she still has a chance at being named champion—all on her own!”

“Oh, I hadn’t realized that she’d won in other categories,” James said.

“Yeah, man.
All
of the ones we weren’t at,” Bennett informed him.

“And what about Bob?” Lindy asked crossly. “He’s been worried sick about her.”

“Bob is with her, but Hailey’s like a little frightened dove right now,” Gillian said, her voice high and light. “She just needs to find a place to roost before she’s ready to spread her wings again.”

Bennett threw his hands into the air. “You’re as loony as ever, woman! Still, I can see why Hailey might not be in a hurry to strap herself to another man. Shoot, her last one wasn’t exactly the kind to bring home to mama.”

“Deputy Harding tells me that Bob and Hailey are talking through the concerns Hailey feels about the future of their relationship,” Gillian stated knowledgeably. “He wisely gave them some breathing room to do so. I’m
certain
that they’re reconnecting right now and that Bob is willing to treat Hailey as his
equal
.” She beamed at Harding. “I think that was
very
thoughtful of you, Deputy.”

Harding looked uncomfortable. “Well, now we’ve got to redouble our efforts to track down Mr. Walker. And by ‘we,’” he eyed the supper club members sternly, “I mean the sheriff’s department.”

James elbowed Lucy in the side. “Go on, tell him,” he hissed.

“Tell me what?” Harding’s eyes sharpened with interest.

“If you haven’t found Mitch Walker by the closing ceremony,” Lucy announced importantly, “I think you can expect him to show up there.”

Fox Hall’s Cheese Grits

6 cups water

11⁄2 cups quick-cooking grits

3⁄4 cup margarine or butter

1 pound extra-sharp cheddar cheese, grated

2 teaspoons seasoning salt

1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

1⁄2 teaspoon Tabasco sauce (more or less to taste)

2 teaspoons salt

3 eggs, well beaten

paprika for garnish (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Lightly grease a 9 × 13-inch baking dish. In a medium saucepan, bring the water to a boil. Stir in the grits. Reduce heat to low. Cover and cook 5 to 6 minutes, stirring occasionally. Mix in the butter or margarine, cheese, seasoning salt, Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco sauce, and salt. Continue cooking for 5 minutes, or until the cheese is melted. Remove from heat, cool slightly, and fold in the eggs. Pour into the prepared baking dish. Bake 1 hour in the preheated oven, or until the top is lightly browned.

While Lucy conferred
privately with Deputy Harding, James found a pleasant seat in the shade of a large maple tree and dialed the home number of the Fitzgerald twins. Francis and Scott lived in a garage that had been converted into an apartment by an entrepreneurial widow. At first, the arrangement had come with the stipulation that the boys would need to help old Mrs. Lamb with her yard work, but before long, the brothers had not only taken over the landscaping chores, but also chopped wood and completed all necessary repairs around her house. In return, she cooked them several bountiful dinners each week. Over time, they had become a makeshift family.

James glanced at his watch. It was a few minutes to two. The large midday meal typically served after church services would have been consumed and the dishes soaking in the sink, so it was highly possible that the twins would be outside—busy trimming Mrs. Lamb’s bushes or mowing her lawn. James dialed, crossed his fingers, and listened as their phone rang and rang. When Scott’s voice announced that he and Francis were unavailable, James hung up without leaving a message. He called information, got Mrs. Lamb’s number, and called her.

“Hello?” an ancient, raspy voice answered. James could hear the whine of a motor in the background.

“Mrs. Lamb!” James shouted. “This is James Henry. I’m looking for Scott or Francis. It’s kind of important.”

“Who is this?” she croaked suspiciously.

“James Henry. I’m their boss—Scott and Francis’s! At the library! It’s important that I speak to one of them!” he shouted. “Are they there?”

“Henry? Oh, you’re Jackson’s boy. I haven’t seen that handsome devil in a mighty long time.” She issued a licentious cackle. “Now stop hollerin’ at me, child! I may be old as the hills, but I’ve still got two good ears attached to this white head!” She coughed. “Francis is on the mower, but Scott is just finishin’ up with the weedin’. He’ll be in directly for some tea.”

There was a clunk as though Mrs. Lamb had set the receiver on a hard surface.

“Hello?” James called into empty space. He waited, listening to a series of rattles and clanks in the room where Mrs. Lamb had left the phone off the hook. After three full minutes, a door opened and closed and two voices began to speak. James was sure that the male voice belonged to Scott, but if so, why wasn’t he picking up the phone?

“Scott!” James yelled into his cell phone.
“SCOTT!”

“Hello?” Scott said in surprise.

James blew out his breath in annoyance. “Didn’t Mrs. Lamb tell you I was on the phone?” he asked crossly.

“No, Professor. Sorry.” He added with a whisper, “Her memory is a bit off these days.”

“I’d say,” James mumbled. “She called my father a handsome devil. Listen, Scott. I need a favor. I don’t have access to a computer here, and I could use some long-distance help.” James gave a brief account of Jimmy’s death, the discovery of the laced marijuana, and his suspicions about Mitch Walker.

“You should write a book about all of the things that have happened to you since you moved back to Quincy’s Gap!” Scott exclaimed. “You’ve
got
to lead the most exciting life of any librarian in this country!”

Naturally, Scott’s words brought to mind Murphy’s book deal. James struggled not to take his anger out on the boisterous young man. “Can you find out if Jimmy and Mitch have crossed paths at one of these festivals and call me right away with the info? It’s kind of urgent.”

“Sure, Professor. These lightning-fast fingers are at your disposal. Francis and I will get you what you need. Let me go boot up the laptop.”

After Scott hung up, James leaned against the stout tree trunk and wondered what to do about Murphy. He felt so betrayed that she had written about him and his friends, and then sold the book without telling him what she was up to until the ink on the contract was good and dry. He thought of all of the evenings he had left her apartment so that she could write, and there she had been, adding colorful fabrications to characters and events based on his real life. And now her book was going to be printed, without him having read a word of its contents. How would she portray him? How would she describe him physically? Would she reveal to the world childhood stories or intimate details he had shared with her after making love?

Imagining segments of his life captured in Murphy’s book for all to read and judge, James balled his hands into fists. With the rough bark pressing against his back, he sat as still as a stone, realizing that it had been a long time since he had felt such white-hot anger toward another person.

His cell phone, which was settled in a patch of scraggly grass growing between two tree roots, began to buzz. Because it was set on vibrate and it was resting on uneven ground, it looked like a black beetle as it wiggled and slid down the curve of one of the roots until James scooped it up.

“Professor?” Scott said. “Your theory is dead on. Mitch Walker and the Marrow Men have been at every single festival or cook-off event that Jimmy Lang and the Pitmasters have attended over the last three years. The only difference in their schedules is that the Pitmasters entered contests in three extra festivals this year. But together, they’ve been to …” He trailed off as he counted. “Fifteen events in total. There’s no way that Mitch guy can claim not to know Jimmy.”

“True. But he can claim to know nothing about the drugs.” James ran his hands through his sweaty hair. “Time’s running out, Scott. I’ve got to find a way to link these two together as drug traffickers or the sheriff down here won’t have enough evidence to hold Mitch—that is, if they can even find him.”

“I thought you said there might be a drug deal tonight.”

“But that’s a big maybe. The drugs have been seized and though the kids who want to buy some don’t know that yet, Mitch certainly does. If he shows, it’ll only be to tell the kids where to meet him in the future.” James paused. “The next festival’s in North Carolina in two weeks, so he might just tell them to come down there to complete the deal, but it’s a pretty big chance to take.”

Scott hesitated. “That does sound risky.
I
wouldn’t take that chance.”

“But he just lost a lot of money when the authorities discovered that stash of drugs. He might be desperate to make it up.” James said, playing devil’s advocate. “Also, I think Jimmy’s been dealing solo this past year and may have cut Mitch out of his half of the earnings. Jimmy bought a big camper and seems to have hidden chunks of cash somewhere in that RV.

“But if Jimmy and Mitch were partners and Jimmy had the drugs in his cooker, what was Mitch’s role?” Scott questioned. “How did he earn his share of the profits?”

James grew quiet, thinking. Then he sat up with a jerk, his tailbone digging into a sharp root. “What if Mitch’s cooker is outfitted with a false chamber, too? Maybe
that’s
why he’s hiding! Maybe he still wants to sell his share and then get out of here. I’ll have to ask the deputies if they checked out his grill.”

“That’s a thought, but I’ve got another wrench to throw at you, Professor.” Scott had a smile in his voice.

“Great,” James grunted. “What’s that?”

“Well, if the pot’s laced with formaldehyde, where’s it coming from? You can’t just buy that stuff at CVS.”

James stared at the grass in front of him blankly. “I have no idea.”

“Listen, Professor. Francis and I will Google this guy and see what we can dig up. But if you’ve only got a few hours left ’til everyone goes home, maybe you’d better find out as much as you can about this Mitch Walker.”

“Thanks, Scott. I knew I could count on you guys to help.”

“And Professor. Be careful. It sounds like this man has a lot to lose. You know what they say about cornered animals …”

“They’re twice as dangerous.” James nodded to himself and thanked the young man once again.

The rest of the supper club members found James beneath his tree a few minutes later, still deep in thought. He had a paper napkin on his leg and had written some notes on it using a pen he had borrowed from Mrs. Phelps. Lucy waited until he had finished writing, and then squatted in front of him, the sun highlighting her caramel-colored hair as it streamed through the canopy of emerald maple leaves.

“They’re going to have one of the deputies from Russell County go undercover. He’s barely twenty-two and if he wears some false tattoos, a baseball cap, and carries a skateboard, they’re hoping he can get close enough to the other kids to see what happens at the closing ceremony.

“This is kind of scary
and
exciting!” Lindy shivered with anticipation. “And here I thought we’d be spending the weekend leisurely strolling through Hog Fest and overeating.”

“Well, we’ve got the overeating part down.” Bennett patted his thick waist.

Gillian clasped her hands together. “Oh, I
do
hope these young people will get the help they need. Addiction just steals away
precious
spiritual energy and the body’s ability to remain balanced!”

Bennett arched his eyebrows and then turned to James. “What are you doin’ over here anyway?” He gestured at the napkin. “Writin’ poetry?”

James pointed at the napkin. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about Mitch’s cooker.”

Lucy’s eyes widened as she instantly caught on to James’s line of thinking. “That
he
might have been transporting drugs, too?”

“Oh, that would be
terrible
!” Gillian screeched. “We need to stop those
tainted
drugs from getting into the hands of those caught between childhood and adulthood.”

Bennett offered James a hand. “Get up, big boy. We’ve got to get over to the Marrow Men’s cook site. And Lucy, if we find anything significant there, I’m gonna hog all the credit. If I don’t get Sheriff Jones to agree to go out to dinner with me before we leave Hudsonville, then I won’t be able to concentrate on a single danged trivia question ever again!”

“The credit’s all yours, Bennett,” Lucy replied. “But she’s a pretty sharp lady. I bet she’s had one of her deputies check the other cookers. If not, then you can call her yourself and announce your brilliant discovery.”

Once again, the group set off for the cooking area of the festival grounds. James felt as though he had walked the same path a dozen times already and was looking forward to bidding farewell to the crowds, the sticky heat, and the ever-present smell of food.

As soon as the supper club members approached the Marrow Men’s cluster of grills, they quickly became aware that it was going to be difficult to draw out information from the barbecue cooks.