talking.
“Yes, it’s a hard time.”
He nodded. “After my wife died, I kept thinking I saw her everywhere, even though I knew, of course, that she was gone. It was as though a big piece of the puzzle of my life was missing.” Will paused for a moment, but Maggie remained silent. “So, Ben, where exactly did you leave this jacket of yours?”
Ben looked at Maggie in panic.
“Didn’t you say you were just coming off the track when you dropped it?” Maggie said.
Ben half nodded.
“Then it must be somewhere near the entrance to the track.” They walked past the rest room buildings, past the picnic tables set up for tomorrow’s concession-stand customers, and turned left onto the path to the track.
Tomorrow this area would be full of prospective customers. Tonight it was quiet, despite the sounds of people settling in for the night. Dealers were sitting around two of the picnic tables. Several people were playing cards in the dim light and had tuned in the evening news on a small portable TV, and another group was talking and drinking beer. Between the vans and the cars people stood and talked, and occasionally you’d hear the sound of a laugh, or of a car door closing. A radio. A couple of people looked up and nodded as they walked past.
It’s another world, Maggie thought. She had never considered staying on the fairgrounds; a soft bed and a private shower had always been important to her. And women by themselves did not generally stay on the grounds. The atmosphere had changed dramatically from that of an hour or so ago, when everyone was dressed up and entertaining customers. Now it felt more like a late-night neighborhood barbecue.
Except that she and Ben were in search of a body, not an extra bag of chips or ice cubes.
Ben touched Maggie’s sleeve. “We have to go behind the buildings, toward the track.” The backs of the buildings were vented, but had no doors or windows. The buildings themselves blocked the light.
“That’s a funny place to leave a jacket, young man.” Will looked doubtful as Ben pointed to their left. “How did you even get onto the track? The gates are shut.”
Ben turned around and pointed at the gates. “I’m not very big, and the gates are loose. I squeezed between the doors and the fence. That’s how I got on and off the track to practice. I’m a good runner. I ran good tonight. Mud usually slows me down.”
“Where was the—jacket?” Maggie looked from side to side, but in the dim light she couldn’t see anything on the ground larger than two crushed soda cans, a partially eaten hot dog roll, and a few pieces of crumpled paper that had blown near the gate.
Ben walked off the pavement across a few yards of grass toward the back of the rest room building.
“Over here.” He gestured toward an area where a landscaper had planted some trees and bushes in an obvious attempt to add some country atmosphere to the otherwise treeless fairgrounds. Maggie could identify two or three white pines, at least one sugar maple, and several large azalea bushes whose pink flowers glowed eerily in the half-light.
Michael would have known all of these plants, she thought as she instinctively identified the shrubbery. Michael had loved gardening. But Michael wouldn’t have been looking for a body late at night on a New York State fairgrounds.
Ben was a few feet ahead of her, searching the ground.
“I’m sure he was here! I really am sure! I came out of that gate, and I ran about ten or twelve steps, and it was dark here…”
“He?” Will came up behind them. “Ben, I don’t see a jacket here. Who is ‘he’?”
The light from the buildings ended several feet from where the three of them were now standing. No dead or injured bodies were to be seen.
“I’m sure he was here! I’m sure!”
Maggie sighed. Will looked at her, waiting for her response.
“When Ben was leaving the track, he thought he saw two people back here.”
“I did! I saw that pretty lady in
“Yes, it’s a hard time.”
He nodded. “After my wife died, I kept thinking I saw her everywhere, even though I knew, of course, that she was gone. It was as though a big piece of the puzzle of my life was missing.” Will paused for a moment, but Maggie remained silent. “So, Ben, where exactly did you leave this jacket of yours?”
Ben looked at Maggie in panic.
“Didn’t you say you were just coming off the track when you dropped it?” Maggie said.
Ben half nodded.
“Then it must be somewhere near the entrance to the track.” They walked past the rest room buildings, past the picnic tables set up for tomorrow’s concession-stand customers, and turned left onto the path to the track.
Tomorrow this area would be full of prospective customers. Tonight it was quiet, despite the sounds of people settling in for the night. Dealers were sitting around two of the picnic tables. Several people were playing cards in the dim light and had tuned in the evening news on a small portable TV, and another group was talking and drinking beer. Between the vans and the cars people stood and talked, and occasionally you’d hear the sound of a laugh, or of a car door closing. A radio. A couple of people looked up and nodded as they walked past.
It’s another world, Maggie thought. She had never considered staying on the fairgrounds; a soft bed and a private shower had always been important to her. And women by themselves did not generally stay on the grounds. The atmosphere had changed dramatically from that of an hour or so ago, when everyone was dressed up and entertaining customers. Now it felt more like a late-night neighborhood barbecue.
Except that she and Ben were in search of a body, not an extra bag of chips or ice cubes.
Ben touched Maggie’s sleeve. “We have to go behind the buildings, toward the track.” The backs of the buildings were vented, but had no doors or windows. The buildings themselves blocked the light.
“That’s a funny place to leave a jacket, young man.” Will looked doubtful as Ben pointed to their left. “How did you even get onto the track? The gates are shut.”
Ben turned around and pointed at the gates. “I’m not very big, and the gates are loose. I squeezed between the doors and the fence. That’s how I got on and off the track to practice. I’m a good runner. I ran good tonight. Mud usually slows me down.”
“Where was the—jacket?” Maggie looked from side to side, but in the dim light she couldn’t see anything on the ground larger than two crushed soda cans, a partially eaten hot dog roll, and a few pieces of crumpled paper that had blown near the gate.
Ben walked off the pavement across a few yards of grass toward the back of the rest room building.
“Over here.” He gestured toward an area where a landscaper had planted some trees and bushes in an obvious attempt to add some country atmosphere to the otherwise treeless fairgrounds. Maggie could identify two or three white pines, at least one sugar maple, and several large azalea bushes whose pink flowers glowed eerily in the half-light.
Michael would have known all of these plants, she thought as she instinctively identified the shrubbery. Michael had loved gardening. But Michael wouldn’t have been looking for a body late at night on a New York State fairgrounds.
Ben was a few feet ahead of her, searching the ground.
“I’m sure he was here! I really am sure! I came out of that gate, and I ran about ten or twelve steps, and it was dark here…”
“He?” Will came up behind them. “Ben, I don’t see a jacket here. Who is ‘he’?”
The light from the buildings ended several feet from where the three of them were now standing. No dead or injured bodies were to be seen.
“I’m sure he was here! I’m sure!”
Maggie sighed. Will looked at her, waiting for her response.
“When Ben was leaving the track, he thought he saw two people back here.”
“I did! I saw that pretty lady in
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