Read Online Liz Marvin - Betty Crawford 03 - Too Long at the Fair by Liz Marvin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Liz Marvin
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arrive was Gaylee Madison followed shortly by her beau Scooter James. They found each other’s hands in the sunlight but Scooter had his arm around her waist at the first shadow and kissed her on the cheek once they were inside the bleachers framework.
That is as far as they got. Gaylee pulled free, ready for a little hide and seek even if she had no intention of trying not to be caught.
Scooter caught up with her right in the middle of the bleachers and that is when they practically stumbled over her. Mrs. Johnson. She was lying face down except her head was turned almost completely around and the side of her skull was caved in. A bloody broken two by for lay beside in the bloody mud.
The teens’ screams could be heard clear across the fairgrounds
~
In her youth Marlee May had dreamed of dying of old age in her own bed surrounded by generations of loving family. Childless by choice, she now dreamed of dying in her sleep many years from now.
In her youth she had no use for the lover’s lane side of the bleachers and wouldn’t have been caught dead seated in them but she had always loved the reviewing stand. That was the center of attention. A place of honor and prestige. That was where all the judges and dignitaries sat and all the blue ribbons handed out.
She had never been a judge and only sat in the reviewing stand once, with her husband when his bank was being honored for ten years as a sponsor. Even after she had caught the cooking competition bug she had not come to watch the results and only came to receive her blue ribbon.
Until the pie eating competition today she had worn her ability to avoid such spectacles as a badge of honor but of course with her husband competing even on a lark she had to go and hold her head up. She would never let it be said she wasn’t at her husband’s side even if he was embarrassing her.
She came to the bleachers now for one reason and one reason only: the place was empty. She had come there alone. Marlee May had never seen any of the tractor pulls or greased pig chases but between spectacles there was a grimy solitude found only in such places – but only between spectacles.
This was one of the few places in the fairgrounds where one could be solitary and along. She didn’t mind the crowds. Didn’t hate them. Didn’t need them. She just didn’t care and she could afford not to care both socially and economically. She was more than just a big fish in a small pond. She was a sea bird. Free to go anywhere inside or outside the pond. The rest of the town could be fishies. Big or small didn’t matter. Birds ate fishies. Fish seldom ate birds and never ate the careful and powerful ones.
She had picked this temporary fortress of solitude to study her ill-gotten gains. She had stolen something and now she wanted to have a look without being observed or disturbed.
She opened her purse and carefully removed Addie’s old tintype with bandaged fingers. The sharp edges had already cut her when she first picked it up and she wanted no more injuries. The picture didn’t interest her but what was written on the back did. In faded brown ink in elaborately cursive script was written a recipe. The pie recipe. The pie recipe was simple enough but she had never even heard of some of the ingredients. She would look them up on the internet when she got home.
She knew that the pie couldn’t be recreated now. Not because she had the recipe. She had no illusions about that. That little brat could cook this pie in her sleep. Of that Marlee May was certain. But everything had to be made from scratch and there was a lot of prep time. There simply would not be enough time.
She dropped the photograph into her designer handbag, zipped it shut and turned just in time to meet a broken two by four swinging for her head.
A scream began deep in her throat. A
That is as far as they got. Gaylee pulled free, ready for a little hide and seek even if she had no intention of trying not to be caught.
Scooter caught up with her right in the middle of the bleachers and that is when they practically stumbled over her. Mrs. Johnson. She was lying face down except her head was turned almost completely around and the side of her skull was caved in. A bloody broken two by for lay beside in the bloody mud.
The teens’ screams could be heard clear across the fairgrounds
~
In her youth Marlee May had dreamed of dying of old age in her own bed surrounded by generations of loving family. Childless by choice, she now dreamed of dying in her sleep many years from now.
In her youth she had no use for the lover’s lane side of the bleachers and wouldn’t have been caught dead seated in them but she had always loved the reviewing stand. That was the center of attention. A place of honor and prestige. That was where all the judges and dignitaries sat and all the blue ribbons handed out.
She had never been a judge and only sat in the reviewing stand once, with her husband when his bank was being honored for ten years as a sponsor. Even after she had caught the cooking competition bug she had not come to watch the results and only came to receive her blue ribbon.
Until the pie eating competition today she had worn her ability to avoid such spectacles as a badge of honor but of course with her husband competing even on a lark she had to go and hold her head up. She would never let it be said she wasn’t at her husband’s side even if he was embarrassing her.
She came to the bleachers now for one reason and one reason only: the place was empty. She had come there alone. Marlee May had never seen any of the tractor pulls or greased pig chases but between spectacles there was a grimy solitude found only in such places – but only between spectacles.
This was one of the few places in the fairgrounds where one could be solitary and along. She didn’t mind the crowds. Didn’t hate them. Didn’t need them. She just didn’t care and she could afford not to care both socially and economically. She was more than just a big fish in a small pond. She was a sea bird. Free to go anywhere inside or outside the pond. The rest of the town could be fishies. Big or small didn’t matter. Birds ate fishies. Fish seldom ate birds and never ate the careful and powerful ones.
She had picked this temporary fortress of solitude to study her ill-gotten gains. She had stolen something and now she wanted to have a look without being observed or disturbed.
She opened her purse and carefully removed Addie’s old tintype with bandaged fingers. The sharp edges had already cut her when she first picked it up and she wanted no more injuries. The picture didn’t interest her but what was written on the back did. In faded brown ink in elaborately cursive script was written a recipe. The pie recipe. The pie recipe was simple enough but she had never even heard of some of the ingredients. She would look them up on the internet when she got home.
She knew that the pie couldn’t be recreated now. Not because she had the recipe. She had no illusions about that. That little brat could cook this pie in her sleep. Of that Marlee May was certain. But everything had to be made from scratch and there was a lot of prep time. There simply would not be enough time.
She dropped the photograph into her designer handbag, zipped it shut and turned just in time to meet a broken two by four swinging for her head.
A scream began deep in her throat. A
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