Candy-Coated Secrets Page 12

  Aunt Eunice told me God gives everyone a gift. I didn’t want the only gift He gave me to be candy-making. I wanted to leave a legacy. To make a difference in the world—in someone’s life. What better way than to save her life?

  A tear trickled down my cheek. As a child, I’d been unable to save my parents. They’d been going out to dinner, and I’d thrown a fit, not understanding why they’d leave me with a babysitter. My last sight of my mother had been her pale face, smiling at me, and her slender white hand lifted in farewell. I’d pouted, refusing to return the smile or the wave. She’d died in a hit-and-run. The case remained unsolved. I didn’t want the sight of another woman’s face through a car window to go unnoticed.

  Ethan drew a finger across my cheek, wiping away my tear. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “That woman needs our help.”

  “Joe will handle it.”

  “No, I need to do this.” I sniffled. April handed me a box of tissues. Her eyes swam with unshed tears. “When I set out to solve the diamond case, it was just playing. Trying to prove that I could do more than shop for fancy clothes or make delicious candy. Then things got personal, and I was forced to discover who killed Terry Lee. It wasn’t me who solved her murder. Things happened by chance.

  “The woman in the car reminded me of my mother. What if I’m the last friendly face that woman saw before she dies? I owe it to her.”

  Ethan turned to me. His eyes shone, digging into my soul. “Then I’ll help you. By your side, all the time, keeping you as safe as I’m able.”

  Then I remembered where I’d seen the woman before.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Uncle Roy argued when I called and told him I’d be spending the night at Ethan’s, even though I’d done so hundreds of times growing up as April’s best friend. Being an adult and sleeping under the same roof as my fiancé didn’t sit well with my old-school uncle. After I made every promise under the sun that I’d be sleeping in April’s bed and that she’d be home the entire time, I finally had him convinced everything would be on the up and up.

  I lay with an aching head and listened to my friend snore beside me. Footsteps scuffed outside the door as Ethan made his way down the hall to his room.

  My heart warmed at his assurance to help me. I remembered seeing the frantic woman laughing and smiling with Eddy Foreman at the carnival. Funny how his name kept entering the picture. He was the right size for my gorilla friend, too.

  The days of the fair were winding down. Tomorrow I’d inform Aunt Eunice we were closing the booth. Anyone who wanted to buy candy would have done so already anyway. We wouldn’t lose many sales. Then I could concentrate on wandering around, spying, eavesdropping; whatever it took to become a first-rate detective and help this woman.

  It occurred to me that I might be too late to save her life. I’d read reports of missing people usually being murdered within the first two hours of their disappearance. If that should be the case, God willing, I’d do everything in my power to make sure her abductor was brought to justice. Joe would have to arrest me again to keep me from this. What other way could I settle the restlessness in my soul?

  When I woke the next morning, the throbbing in my head had lessened. April was gone, and the smell of frying bacon wafted through the open bedroom door. I grabbed a flowered robe from a nearby chair and rolled out of bed.

  Having been in Ethan and April’s home many times, I knew exactly where they kept the ibuprofen and made a beeline for the medicine cabinet. Three little rust-colored pills later, I shuffled to the kitchen with the speed of a snail.

  Ethan stood at the stove wearing a ruffled canary yellow apron over a royal blue polo shirt and black dress pants. He brandished a spatula. What an appealing sight. “A man after my own heart.” I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my cheek on his broad back.

  He turned. “Good morning, beautiful. How’s your head? Are you hungry?”

  “Starved. Love the apron, by the way, and my head is much better.”

  Ethan moved my bangs aside to take a look. “Okay, sit. The apron was my mother’s. My more manly apron is dirty.” He waved the spatula toward the kitchen table where two plates waited on navy vinyl place mats.

  “Where’s April?”

  “Work.”

  I glanced at my watch. Seven o’clock. “You’re going to be late.”

  “I’ve got thirty minutes before my first class. Everything’s finished.” He slid eggs and bacon onto my plate, then went back for his. “Eat up. I’ll drop you at home on my way.”

  Twenty minutes later I stood on the front porch of my house, staring through the screen at my frowning uncle. “You still a good girl?” He glared at me.

  “Good grief, Uncle Roy.” My face heated. “What a question. Of course I am. Are you going to let me in?”

  He pushed open the screen. “Just checking. A looker like you has to watch out. Ethan’s a good man, but he is a man.”

  “And I’m a responsible adult. April is a very suitable chaperone.” I placed a kiss on his ruddy cheek. “Thanks for worrying about me. Where’s Aunt Eunice?”

  “In the kitchen cooking you breakfast.”

  “I’ve already eaten.”

  “Eat again. Don’t hurt her feelings.”

  Great. It’s a wonder I don’t weigh three hundred pounds.

  Aunt Eunice set a plate of pancakes on the table before I took my seat. “Did Ethan take care of your head?”

  “Yes.” I stared at the stack of pancakes, sighed, and reached for the powdered sugar.

  “You shouldn’t eat so much sugar.” Aunt Eunice sat across from me and folded her arms on the table.

  “It’s not as much as syrup. That’s too sweet.”

  “What happened last night?”

  I recounted the events, leaving out my personal guilt over watching my mother drive away. “I’m going to find out today who the woman in the car was. You sell the last of the candy and return the refrigerator.”

  “Kind of bossy, aren’t you? That knock on the head doesn’t give you the right to order me around.”

  “I’m sorry.” I pushed aside my plate. “You’re right. You didn’t raise me that way. Do you mind closing up the booth?”

  “What’s wrong with your food?” The way my aunt’s eyes searched my face, I knew she asked in a roundabout way what was wrong with me. She’d always been able to see right through me. I wasn’t ready to admit to her that I blamed myself for the way my parents had left the house. Stressed because of an ungrateful child. Not today, maybe never. But, I did owe her good manners and love. Not only because of the sacrifice she’d given in raising me, but because I loved her.

  “Nothing.” After pulling the plate back to me, I shoved a huge bite in my mouth. “See?”

  “Okay. No, Summer, I don’t mind closing the booth.” A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “And you shouldn’t stick so much in your mouth. You’ll choke.” A gleam appeared in her eye. “Once I’m finished with the booth, I’ll go around asking questions. We’ll have to be sneakier about it, though. I don’t relish being arrested again.”

  “You can’t be for asking questions.” Can you? I speared another forkful of pancake. No. My Dolt book actually suggests interrogating people. They wouldn’t recommend a person do something if it was against the law, would they?

  Like a starving child at a buffet line, I stood on the midway and surveyed the milling carnies and fair attendees. Although at least twenty trailers were lined up behind the fun house, I couldn’t determine which belonged to Washington.

  Eddy Foreman waved his arms, shouting orders to a ride operator. He seemed as good a place to begin as any.

  “Summer!” His demeanor changed. His frown flipped to a smile. His cologne almost overpowered me as he flung an arm around my shoulders. He flipped up my bangs. “What’s with the bandage?”

  “Just a bump.” I took a deep breath, choked on aromatic fumes, and decided to plunge into asking questions
. “The other day I saw you speaking with a blond woman. She wore the cutest pair of jeans. I’ll just die if I can’t get a pair for myself. Do you know where I can find her?”

  “Lacey?” Eddy shook his head. “She hasn’t shown up for work today. That’s her brother I was talking to. He hasn’t seen her since yesterday. It’s difficult to get good help nowadays, you know?”

  He’d been steering me toward the back of the fair, stopping in front of a trailer. Sally held court, lazily fanning her face with a sheet of paper folded accordion style. Her love interest handed her a glass of what looked like iced tea.

  “Summer.” Sally waved and I slid from beneath Eddy’s arm. “Sit right here, sweetie. How you been? See you later, Eddy.”

  I perched on the edge of a rickety wood-slated stool. It wobbled beneath me. “I’m fine, thank you. And you?”

  “Never better.” She snapped her fingers. “Woodrow, get my friend a drink. You want some tea? That’s Woodrow, my boyfriend. Isn’t he the cutest thing?”

  “Absolutely.” If you liked the miniature type.

  He handed me a glass, and his lips twitched in a semblance of a smile, only to disappear as quickly. Mississippi mud-colored hair circled a bald spot on top of the man’s head. Eyes of the same color lowered beneath bushy brows. The man was anything but cute, but to each his own.

  Another man stepped up behind them. He paused at the sight of me, then ducked out of sight.

  “That’s Grizzly Bob,” Sally explained. “He’s not very social, but he’s great with the animals. Him and Woodrow are friends. Ain’t that right, Snookums?”

  Woodrow bobbed his head. “We sure are. How’s your drink? Do you need more ice?” He fussed with the pillows behind her back.

  Sally patted his cheek. “He’s so good to me. A real prize. Woodrow would do anything for me.” A hard glint shone in her eye, just for a second, as Sally stared at me. “He’d even die if I asked him to.” The cold look disappeared, replaced by a smile. I wondered if I’d imagined it. “How many women can boast of that?”

  I sipped the tea. Raspberry, my favorite. “Not many. Sally, have you seen Lacey today?”

  “Lacey Love? I don’t even think that’s her real name. That woman’s a harlot. What do you want her for?” Sally tipped her glass and drained the sweet liquid.

  “I heard she was missing. I’m just curious.” At least I had a name to go with the face that haunted my dreams last night.

  “Uh-huh. Word around the fair is that you, missy, are a Nosy Nelly. People don’t like that.”

  I handed my half-finished drink to Woodrow and stood. “Is that a warning, Sally?”

  “Heavens, no.” She giggled. “I’m just stating a fact. I wouldn’t like anything to happen to you. I’m your friend.” Sally leaned forward as far as her bulk would allow. “Listen, Summer. There’re all types of people hired to work these carnivals. Most of them are good people, but not all. You keep asking questions, somebody is going to get upset.”

  Sounded like a warning to me. Suddenly, I didn’t feel as comfortable with Sally being my friend. I shivered. “Thanks for the advice. One more thing. I need to ask Washington a question about my booth. Can you point me in the direction of his trailer?”

  Sally’s eyes narrowed. “Last one on the right. The one that’s painted the color of split pea soup.”

  Did all the carnies get their paint from the “oops” aisle in the local paint store? A rainbow of garish colors surrounded me as I made my way to the end. Baby poop yellow. Orange red. A washed-out blue. Washington’s trailer sat right where Sally said it would and was definitely the color of peas. I shivered. I detested that particular vegetable.

  Before I could knock, the door swung open and Washington beamed down at me. “Miss Summer. Come in. To what do I owe this surprise?”

  Although I burned with curiosity to inspect the inside of where he lived, self-preservation prevailed, and I stopped at the front door. I craned my neck to peek inside.

  A chocolate micro-fiber sofa took up one entire wall of the tiny living room. A brass-and-glass coffee table, every inch covered with Precious Moments knickknacks, sat in the center of a faded Oriental rug. Prints of famous artists covered the walls. Definitely not purchased on a carny’s pay. Desire to see the rest of his home tugged at me.

  “I wanted to let you know that Aunt Eunice and I are closing our booth. With the fair almost finished, we’d like to be able to enjoy ourselves a bit.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll dismantle everything tomorrow.” Washington’s eyes never left my face. “Would you like a look around inside? I’ve managed to acquire quite a few nice things.”

  Had he guessed my true intentions?

  “Uh. Well, I was, uh, actually wondering how you could afford such nice things on your salary.” Please, God, don’t let him think me a snob, but I promised You I wouldn’t lie. And the man did ask.

  He laughed. The warm sound washed over me like faraway thunder on a summer day. “I’m the king of Dumpster diving, Miss Summer. Also, I’ve staked my claim as the carny’s shaker. I make quite a bit doing that.”

  “Shaker?”

  He squeezed onto the stoop with me and closed the door before taking a seat on the top step. He patted the narrow space beside him, inviting me to sit. “A shaker is someone who scours the rides at closing time. It’s amazing how much money falls out of pockets. Especially near the rides that go upside down. Why so interested? Looking for part-time work?”

  My face must have turned the shade of a cherry. “I’ve noticed you passing things on to others.”

  His laugh boomed across the alley. “You thought I was dealing!” Washington clutched his stomach. “That is priceless, Miss Summer. Totally priceless. I just sell some of the things I find. Stuff I don’t want. Jewelry mostly. I have no need for that kind of thing.”

  “I’m sorry.” Okay, I’m a dunce. A snobbish dunce. There was absolutely no way I would share this particular investigative interview with anyone.

  “No need for apologies. I’ve been questioned by the cops more times than I can count. There’s plenty of money to be found, if a person knows where to look. Most people are just too lazy.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “You move on now, Miss Summer. I’ve got work to do. Come by anytime. Might be I could find a pretty little trinket for you.”

  I rose and extended my hand. “Thank you for overlooking my rudeness.”

  He laughed again and shook my hand.

  I stepped off the stoop and turned. “I’m looking for Lacey Love. Have you seen her?”

  “Not since yesterday.” He opened his door and ducked inside.

  Well, that didn’t reveal any new information. Except that maybe I had barked up the wrong tree. Washington didn’t appear to be guilty of anything but keeping what others had lost. As far as I knew, that wasn’t a crime.

  At a loss of where to go from there, I headed back up the aisle of painted trailers. A bubble gum pink one drew my eye. It screamed Lacey Love if anything did.

  Chapter Twenty

  Since no yellow crime scene tape surrounded the pink monstrosity, I felt no compunction about knocking on the door. No one had officially reported Lacey missing. I only hoped I had the right trailer. I didn’t want to be surprised by an irate owner arriving home as I snooped. Joe’s warning about any further breaking of the law rattled in my head. How do I solve things if I can’t snoop?

  A man wearing dirty coveralls and driving a beat-up golf cart stopped behind me. “Go ahead and go on in. Lacey won’t mind. We got an open door policy around here. She ain’t home anyway.” And with those words, he sped away as fast as his four wheels would take him.

  At least I knew I had the right place. Was everyone around here one big happy family? Then why did people keep disappearing or getting murdered?

  The door squeaked as I pushed it open. A musky incense hung in the air of the dark room. Shades covered the windows. Déjà vu struck me. If I found another body in the shower, I’d be
out of here faster than a fox after a chicken.

  Dishes were stacked in the sink. A half-full can of soda sat on the table. A chair lay overturned on the worn linoleum. The remainder of the kitchen was spotless. Nothing appeared out of place. It was almost as if the woman who lived here had left in a hurry.

  Nosy radar antennas quivering, I headed to the bedroom. If I had something important to hide, that’s where I’d stash it.

  The trailer was laid out identical to Millie’s, minus the squeaky floorboard. Please, God, don’t let anyone sneak up on me. Instead of a door, a brightly striped bedsheet with button tabs over a curtain rod divided the closet from the room. I pushed the fabric aside and pulled the chain on a bare lightbulb above my head.

  The chaos belied the neatness of the rest of the woman’s home. Clothes hung rumpled on hangers shoved tight together. Shoes lay jumbled on the floor among bulging bags and crushed boxes. Aunt Eunice would’ve died from the mess. Dismay flooded through me. Where should I start? Especially considering I didn’t know what I was looking for.

  I decided to start with the less messy section of the closet: the shelf above the clothes. Shoe boxes were piled with no semblance of order. It made sense to start at one end and move down.

  The first box held love letters. Once glance at the letter on top set my face on fire, and I hurriedly set the box on the floor. The second held personal mementos like movie tickets and receipts. I lost count of how many boxes of paper, jewelry, hair ties, and other unrecognizable things I riffled through until I found something that made me catch my breath.

  Holding a nondescript brown cardboard box in my shaking hands, I stared at a detailed accounting report. I detested math, having dropped out of algebra in high school as soon as was feasible. But even my number-challenged brain recognized the dollar amounts didn’t add up. Here was the proof Joe searched for. That something else. Here might just be the proof of embezzlement.