pack she and Tumbleweed tucked into every night when they kicked back and relaxed. Over the years, I’d spent plenty of summers with Tumbleweed and his missus, and it was only natural for Ruth Ann to feel a little motherly. When she talked about me and Sylvia, she always referred to “my girls.” Only never in the plural when Sylvia was within earshot.
I gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “I need to talk to Tumbleweed.”
As if she’d been expecting exactly this, Ruth Ann nodded. “Of course you do. About the murder.”
“Murder? Oh, you mean Roberto.” It wasn’t like I’d forgotten. I mean, how could I? A couple times during the night, I’d woken in a cold sweat, and that morning I’d had some trouble getting the Little Debbie Donut Sticks that were my breakfast past what felt like a permanent lump in my throat. Other than that, I thought I’d done a pretty good job of putting the whole thing out of my head. It was done. It was over. I had to move on. In some ways, Roberto was a lot like Edik (though, unfortunately, as far as I knew, Edik was still breathing). Interesting for a while. Ultimately disappointing. So I had a bad experience with a guy! What else was new?
“I don’t want to talk about Roberto,” I told Ruth Ann. “I don’t care about Roberto. The cops are taking care of that. I want to talk to Tumbleweed about Jack.”
Another series of nods from Ruth Ann told me she sympathized, even if she wasn’t sure it was going to get me anywhere. “I’m sure there’s nothing else he can tell you that he hasn’t already told you,” she assured me, and beamed a smile in my direction. “You’re a good girl to care so much.”
“Only if caring helps us find Jack.”
Ruth Ann’s plucked-to-the-width-of-a-strand-of-angel-hair-pasta eyebrows drooped. She made a vague gesture out to the fairgrounds. “Tumbleweed was up early and he’s been out since. There’s plenty for him to do. You know, on account of the murder.”
It was the first I realized that though I was certainly the one who’d had the most striking contact (literally), I wasn’t the only one affected by Roberto’s demise. Of course Tumbleweed was busier than usual. When something like this happens, there must be a thousand details to handle. Something told me that, as Showdown manager and administrator, Tumbleweed was involved in every single one of them.
I offered Ruth Ann my help.
“That’s so sweet, and just like you, Maxie, honey, but we’re fine.” There was a pile of papers on her desk and she shuffled through them. “Tumbleweed’s taking care of the media and Nick’s got a handle on the gawkers. That Nick . . .” She glanced up, no doubt to gauge my reaction. “He’s something, huh?”
Since she didn’t say what her definition of
something
was, I wasn’t obligated to answer. Besides, if I offered my opinion of our security chief, I don’t think she would have liked it. Ever since she’d first mentioned Nick’s name, Ruth Ann’s eyes had been twinkling.
Rather than deal, I turned back to the door.
“You know, sweetie . . .”
Her voice stopped me cold, and when I spun back around, I saw that Ruth Ann’s cheeks were shot through with color. Even though she’d already done it once, she shuffled through the papers on her desk again. “The first day of the Showdown is always so busy, and that’s more true than ever today, what with all the excitement yesterday and all the news coverage and all the folks who are sure to come out to see the scene of the crime. You’d probably just be better off staying at the Palace where you’re needed. You know, instead of heading off to find Tumbleweed, asking a lot of questions.”
“You mean Tumbleweed is busy, and I shouldn’t bother him.”
“You? Bother?” She rose to her feet. Ruth Ann was dressed in lime-green capris and a sherbet-orange short-sleeved top. Her flip-flops were hot pink. Just like her lipstick. “Honey, you could never be a bother.
I gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “I need to talk to Tumbleweed.”
As if she’d been expecting exactly this, Ruth Ann nodded. “Of course you do. About the murder.”
“Murder? Oh, you mean Roberto.” It wasn’t like I’d forgotten. I mean, how could I? A couple times during the night, I’d woken in a cold sweat, and that morning I’d had some trouble getting the Little Debbie Donut Sticks that were my breakfast past what felt like a permanent lump in my throat. Other than that, I thought I’d done a pretty good job of putting the whole thing out of my head. It was done. It was over. I had to move on. In some ways, Roberto was a lot like Edik (though, unfortunately, as far as I knew, Edik was still breathing). Interesting for a while. Ultimately disappointing. So I had a bad experience with a guy! What else was new?
“I don’t want to talk about Roberto,” I told Ruth Ann. “I don’t care about Roberto. The cops are taking care of that. I want to talk to Tumbleweed about Jack.”
Another series of nods from Ruth Ann told me she sympathized, even if she wasn’t sure it was going to get me anywhere. “I’m sure there’s nothing else he can tell you that he hasn’t already told you,” she assured me, and beamed a smile in my direction. “You’re a good girl to care so much.”
“Only if caring helps us find Jack.”
Ruth Ann’s plucked-to-the-width-of-a-strand-of-angel-hair-pasta eyebrows drooped. She made a vague gesture out to the fairgrounds. “Tumbleweed was up early and he’s been out since. There’s plenty for him to do. You know, on account of the murder.”
It was the first I realized that though I was certainly the one who’d had the most striking contact (literally), I wasn’t the only one affected by Roberto’s demise. Of course Tumbleweed was busier than usual. When something like this happens, there must be a thousand details to handle. Something told me that, as Showdown manager and administrator, Tumbleweed was involved in every single one of them.
I offered Ruth Ann my help.
“That’s so sweet, and just like you, Maxie, honey, but we’re fine.” There was a pile of papers on her desk and she shuffled through them. “Tumbleweed’s taking care of the media and Nick’s got a handle on the gawkers. That Nick . . .” She glanced up, no doubt to gauge my reaction. “He’s something, huh?”
Since she didn’t say what her definition of
something
was, I wasn’t obligated to answer. Besides, if I offered my opinion of our security chief, I don’t think she would have liked it. Ever since she’d first mentioned Nick’s name, Ruth Ann’s eyes had been twinkling.
Rather than deal, I turned back to the door.
“You know, sweetie . . .”
Her voice stopped me cold, and when I spun back around, I saw that Ruth Ann’s cheeks were shot through with color. Even though she’d already done it once, she shuffled through the papers on her desk again. “The first day of the Showdown is always so busy, and that’s more true than ever today, what with all the excitement yesterday and all the news coverage and all the folks who are sure to come out to see the scene of the crime. You’d probably just be better off staying at the Palace where you’re needed. You know, instead of heading off to find Tumbleweed, asking a lot of questions.”
“You mean Tumbleweed is busy, and I shouldn’t bother him.”
“You? Bother?” She rose to her feet. Ruth Ann was dressed in lime-green capris and a sherbet-orange short-sleeved top. Her flip-flops were hot pink. Just like her lipstick. “Honey, you could never be a bother.
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