The next day was fairly quiet. Beatrice, trying to keep her promise to take her investigation slowly, stayed inside. Piper came by with spaghetti, garlic bread, and wine, and regaled Beatrice with particularly amusing stories from school, making sure to keep everything light and fun and stress-free. “We had a first-grade field trip to a farm in the middle of nowhere,” said Piper. “The little girl who sat next to me on the bus told me knock-knock jokes the whole time. The situation got even more dire when the bus broke down and we had to wait for another bus from the school to take us to the farm.”
Beatrice laughed. “What about Georgia? Was she on the bus, too?” Georgia also taught first grade at Piper’s school.
“She was. But she apparently knew about Becca’s knock-knock addiction, because she chose to sit many seats away. The forty-five-minute bus trip turned into a two-hour odyssey.” Piper paused, eyes mischievous. “Knock, knock.”
“Who’s there?” asked Beatrice, a smile tugging at her lips.
“Broken pencil.”
“Broken pencil, who?” asked Beatrice.
“That’s what I’d like to know! Becca, as usual, couldn’t remember the punch line.”
There was a light rap at the door. “Must be Meadow,” murmured Beatrice, standing up from the small wooden table. “She has an unerring ability of knowing when I’m finally starting to relax.”
Piper laughed. “You know you love her. Even if she does drive you crazy sometimes.”
Beatrice opened the door and broke into a smile. Ash Downey, with his handsomely dark features, rugged build, and crooked grin, stood there with his mother. He was casually dressed in dark track pants and a gray zippered sweatshirt. “What a nice surprise! I haven’t seen you for a while, Ash.” She stood back and let Ash and Meadow walk by her into the small dining area off her tiny living room.
Meadow caught her arm and gave it a squeeze. “I saw Piper’s car in the driveway and couldn’t resist dropping by! You don’t mind, do you?” Without waiting for an answer, she said, “The children are just so darling together, and Ash was in Dappled Hills, helping me lug some furniture around at the house. Ramsay likes to pretend he won’t pull something if he moves furniture, but he will, and men are so stubborn. Best to let the young move heavy things, right?”
Beatrice was only half listening as she watched Ash and Piper give each other a tight hug and light kiss on the cheek. Piper’s gray eyes lit up when Ash walked into the house, her whole being focused on him, as if everyone else in the world had disappeared. It was then that, more than from anything Piper had told her, Beatrice realized that these two were clearly destined to be together.
“Ash, how is the teaching going?” asked Beatrice. “Piper was just entertaining me with tales from her school. Of course, you’re teaching on the opposite end of the spectrum.”
Ash was an adjunct at Harrington College, about thirty minutes away. He was a marine biologist who’d lived and worked in California before moving back to North Carolina months before to be closer to Piper. At first, Piper had been surprised by his abrupt move, and worried that he’d sacrificed too much for a relationship that was still in the early stages. But now, as Beatrice watched Piper reach out for Ash’s hand as he sat down at the table next to her, she saw that her daughter had overcome that emotional hurdle and was completely content and relaxed in Ash’s company.
Ash’s bright blue eyes twinkled at Beatrice. “Sometimes I think that college freshmen and first-graders do have a lot in common.”
Piper said, “Except you don’t have to hear knock-knock jokes on a broken-down bus, maybe.”
Ash grinned. “I wouldn’t put it past some of them.”
“Have y’all eaten?” asked Beatrice.
Meadow said, “We have, although we both usually have room for more. Don’t we, Ash?”
Piper stood up. “You know, when I was getting some ice, I thought I spotted a large container of ice cream in Mama’s freezer.”
Beatrice arched her brows. “The remarkable thing about that is it’s unopened! Usually, eating ice cream is my stress relief.”
Meadow raised a hand in alarm. “Now, now, Beatrice! None of that! No talk of stress or of the case tonight. We’re here to distract and amuse!”
And they did, until they were all startled to see that the time on the clock was nearly midnight.
* * *
The next morning, Beatrice decided to keep with the nonsleuthing schedule and plant some flowers in the backyard. Wyatt had called once while she was working out there with Noo-noo, making sure they were still on for the festival. Beatrice was glad that his voice sounded even and upbeat and that there was no sign of worry or stress—a sign to her that Harper hadn’t shared with him her worries over Daniel. Wyatt, having been his minister, must have known about Patrick’s death. But, apparently, he was unaware that his own brother-in-law had been spotted near the crime scene. Beatrice hated to bring it up, since the police weren’t certain that it was actually murder.
The evening of the festival was clear and pleasant. There were people visiting from all around, since Beatrice had never seen many of the festivalgoers around Dappled Hills. The location of the sprawling fairgrounds was on the outskirts of Dappled Hills, and the surrounding mountains provided a beautiful view. There were striped canvas booths with Frisbee golf and fishing games for small kids. There were booths with arts and crafts for sale—glassworks, exquisite candles, quilts, children’s clothing, and jewelry. And there was food galore, from the church bake-sale booth, which was decorated with a rolling pin on the outside of the tent, to cotton candy, hot dogs, and deep-fried candy bars.
Wyatt held Beatrice’s hand as they walked by the booths, and a constant stream of church members greeted him with a smile and a wave as they went by. “I feel as if I’m part of a parade,” said Beatrice dryly.
There was a main-stage area with local performers. Wyatt and Beatrice watched a group of cloggers, as Wyatt ate a steady progression of fair food. The women wore traditional clogging dresses with bright blue, tiered skirts over crinolines, and they whirled and snapped down their heels in time to the lively music. The male cloggers wore Western attire, with white fringe on their blue-checkered shirts and on the sides of their white pants. They spun their partners and then clogged next to each other in pairs.
“It’s a good thing this festival is only once a year,” he said, patting his stomach. “My arteries would really protest otherwise.”
“I don’t know how you stay so thin,” said Beatrice, laughing.
“Well, if I ate enough chili cheese dogs, that wouldn’t happen,” said Wyatt.
“Or pies?” asked a voice behind them teasingly. They turned to see Georgia and Tony grinning at them. Beatrice noticed that Georgia’s clothing style had become softer, more feminine, and more body-conscious since she started dating Tony. She was pretty in a coral-colored floral sundress. Tony had dressed up for the occasion and wore khakis and a golf shirt.
“Good to see y’all here!” said Wyatt. “But, no—no pie-eating contest for me. I wouldn’t dream of competing against you, Tony. Especially not after eating a chili cheese dog, cotton candy, and a funnel cake.”
“That’s wise of you,” said Georgia, beaming. “Especially considering that Tony hasn’t eaten all day, in preparation for his big event.”
“Well, I have to protect and preserve my championship, right?” asked Tony.
“But I’ll be happy to play horseshoes with you, Tony,” said Wyatt, pointing across the fairgrounds to where the horseshoe-pitching competition was taking place.
“Maybe later,” said Tony. “I’d better focus on the pie eating first.”
“But you’ll likely be comatose on sugar after that,” said Wyatt with a grin.
“That’s so.” Tony scratched his head as he remembered. “Last year I went straight home and took the longest nap you can imagine.”
“How many pies do you usually eat?” asked Beatrice, feeling a bit bemused.
“Last year I managed to eat four pies in three minutes,” said Tony proudly.
It made Beatrice’s stomach hurt.
“And that’s without using his hands, remember?” said Wyatt. “The contestants basically put their faces right into the pie and eat it.”
Beatrice looked again at Tony’s crisply ironed khakis and navy blue golf shirt. “So, you’re going to be covered in pie, right?”
“Not completely covered. That would be like the twelve-and-under group. They end up with pie everywhere,” said Tony.
Beatrice shook her head. “I think if I compete in anything, I’d have to choose the checkers competition. That’s a lot more my speed.”
“And not nearly as messy,” added Wyatt.
Beatrice asked, “Have y’all seen Posy’s quilting ‘petting zoo’ yet? There are so many booths here that I’m not sure where to even begin looking.”
“We have, and she had all kinds of folks in there! It seemed like it was very popular. Even little kids.” Georgia pointed out the general area of the booth. “Savannah’s helping her out now, and Meadow pitched in some. Miss Sissy came with Posy and is sort of not helping.”
“I can only imagine,” said Beatrice.
Wyatt said, “We should walk Miss Sissy around the fairgrounds a while. We could get her a funnel cake. You know how she loves to eat. That might give Posy a bit of a break.”
Beatrice could certainly tell he was a minster. Adding Miss Sissy to their evening hadn’t exactly been in her original game plan. But she hid a grimace and nodded pleasantly.
“Actually, it won’t only give Posy a break—it will give Savannah one, too. She’s helping Posy out, but Miss Sissy is hounding her about Smoke and when she can come by for another visit,” said Georgia. “So, you’d really have done your good deed for the day.”
“Who else have you seen here so far?” asked Beatrice.
“Oh, we rode the Ferris wheel together, so we got a good overview of the whole place,” said Tony, gesturing to the Ferris wheel looming over the fairgrounds. “In fact, the view up there of the valley is amazing, if you haven’t seen it, Beatrice. Let’s see. I’ve seen Ramsay, but it sort of looked like he was on duty. He was greeting everybody and being friendly, but I could tell he was here officially.”
“So, Meadow is at loose ends,” said Beatrice. Which could mean that this date with Wyatt could soon turn into a small group.
Georgia nodded. “Oh, and I saw Harper and Daniel here. I know y’all will want to catch up some with them. They were watching the cloggers dance.”
Tony said, “Hate to cut this short, but I probably should head over to the pie-eating contest.”
They hurried away, and Wyatt gave her hand a squeeze. “Where to now?”
“We should check in at Posy’s ‘petting zoo’ for quilting,” said Beatrice.
“Ah, that’s right. To rescue Savannah and Posy from Miss Sissy,” said Wyatt.
And, indeed, Miss Sissy did seem to be driving everyone around her crazy. Her hair was even more wildly unkempt than usual, and she’d spilled something on her long floral dress. “Don’t touch that!” she snarled at a young woman who was examining the sewing machine.
“Now, Miss Sissy, remember what I was telling you. This is a petting zoo. So everyone is allowed and even encouraged to try out a sewing machine and give quilting a go,” said Posy patiently. But she gave Beatrice a concerned look.
Savannah, who apparently was assigned to help visitors at one of the sewing machines, rolled her eyes at Beatrice.
“Might break it!” said Miss Sissy.
“I’m sure no one will break it,” said Posy confidently. But the young woman was already thanking them and abruptly hurrying from the tent. Posy sighed.
“Might destroy the quilt!” said Miss Sissy, gesturing to the very basic quilt that was on the sewing machine.
“The point is that it’s easy enough so that even someone brand-new can learn to do it,” said Posy, smiling earnestly at Miss Sissy.
“Poppycock!” growled the old woman.
Wyatt quickly intervened. “Hi, Posy! And hi, Miss Sissy. Miss Sissy, I was wondering if you’d do Beatrice and me the great honor of enjoying the festival with us. We’d love for you to. And we thought you might enjoy a funnel cake or a deep-fried candy bar.”
Miss Sissy’s eyes lit up. Then they narrowed as she squinted at Beatrice with an assessing look. Beatrice gave her a weak smile that likely wasn’t very convincing.
“And then we can talk more about your next visit with Smoke,” offered Savannah as a desperate encouragement.
“Okay,” said Miss Sissy. “Let’s go eat.” She sprang from the booth, and Wyatt and Beatrice leaped to follow her. Beatrice thought she heard a collective sigh of relief from the booth behind them.
Wyatt looked as though he might be experiencing a stomachache. “Actually, I’ve already eaten a ton of food. But we, uh, wanted to get your opinion on the festival food.”
“Would have to eat a lot to have an opinion,” said the old woman cannily.
“Of course you will,” said Wyatt.
Beatrice was quite willing to chip in in case Wyatt ran out of cash. It would be worth it to keep Miss Sissy occupied.
It was a good thing that Beatrice did have cash on her. Miss Sissy not only ate a funnel cake, but she also ate a bacon-wrapped caramel apple, a corn dog, deep-fried butter on a stick, and a huge plate of onion rings.
“Miss Sissy, I do believe we should have entered you in the pie-eating contest,” said Beatrice dryly.
“But then Tony would have lost,” said Wyatt, “and he was so serious about defending his title.”
Miss Sissy ignored them both. She appeared to be scanning the horizon for new foods to try.
A round-faced short woman with large eyes scurried across the path ahead of them.
“June Bug never slows down, does she?” asked Beatrice in amazement. “I’d have stopped her so we could talk, but I can tell she’s bolting off to somewhere.”
“Her cakes are in high demand tonight,” said Wyatt, nodding. “And it’s June Bug’s rolling pin that we’re using as decoration on the outside of the tent, so she’s even pitched in with decorating, too. I don’t think you’d have been able to stop her to talk. She asked me how many cakes she should supply for the sale, and I told her to bake only a couple. I didn’t want her to wear herself out or spend too much money, since she’d be out of pocket, with the bake-sale proceeds going to a local charity. But she told me on the phone that she’d have more cakes in her car, just in case. I’m guessing she’s off to get them because hers have sold out.”
Miss Sissy said fiercely, “June Bug has good cakes.”
“She certainly does,” said Wyatt in a calming tone.
“Let’s go to the bake-sale booth,” suggested Miss Sissy in a wheedling tone.
Beatrice felt her head start to throb.
“We will, Miss Sissy. But we don’t want to be carrying a cake around with us while we’re walking around the festival, right? Why don’t we go there later?” said Wyatt.
“They’ll all be gone!”
“I think June Bug brought plenty of cakes. But if they somehow are all gone, I can still get one for you later. June Bug is at the church, cooking for us, all the time,” said Wyatt.
“Maybe you could run and get her a snack,” suggested Beatrice. She looked desperately around her. What hadn’t Miss Sissy eaten yet?
“There!” said Miss Sissy, pointing an arthritic finger at the deep-fried candy bar truck.
“Okay,” said Wyatt, looking relieved that there was no more talk of a cake. “Why don’t y’all wait here, and I’ll go get it? It looks as if there’s quite a line.”
Wyatt headed off to the food truck, and Beatrice was startled as Miss Sissy abruptly sat down on the ground. “Miss Sissy?” she asked uncertainly.
“Legs tired,” she said with a sniff.
There weren’t any benches nearby. But Beatrice didn’t particularly feel like sitting on the ground in her nice outfit, so she stood next to her and bestowed reassuring smiles to passersby who gave the old woman concerned looks.
A moment later, she spotted Daniel. He was looking around him as if searching for someone, but then frowned as he saw Miss Sissy, and strode over. He was dressed, as usual, in suit pants and a button-down shirt with a tie. But at least he’d forgone the jacket. He peered at Miss Sissy solemnly through his black-framed eyeglasses.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, mostly to Beatrice. He didn’t quite meet Beatrice’s gaze, and Beatrice realized that he seemed to feel awkward around her—likely due to the fact that she knew the secret about his past.
“Oh, Miss Sissy decided to have a seat, that’s all. There wasn’t exactly a good spot for it, so she chose the ground,” said Beatrice.
Now Daniel’s gaze met hers. And it was amused. “Maybe we should put caution tape around her. I’m afraid people won’t see her and will trip over her and go flying.”
Miss Sissy was ignoring them completely.
“By the way,” Daniel said, frowning now, “I heard a terrible story from Meadow about you. I was so sorry to hear about it. She said that someone had stuck a gun in your back when you were trying to get inside your house recently.”
Beatrice froze. Because she certainly hadn’t told Meadow about the gun; she’d known it would only make her more upset. And she’d expressly asked Ramsay not to say anything, and he’d been grimly convincing that he wouldn’t. So how did Daniel know about it?
Her mouth suddenly dry, Beatrice swallowed hard and said, “I don’t recall telling Meadow that there was a gun involved in the incident.” It sounded like more of a question when she said it.
Daniel’s eyebrows pulled together as his brow creased. “Didn’t you? Oh, I must have confused her story with one of the ones I heard about in court the other day—I was at the courthouse all day long, and incidents start running together. At any rate, I’m so sorry to hear about it, Beatrice. Are you all right?”
Beatrice repressed a shiver. “Yes, I’m fine, thanks. It was very scary at the time, but no harm done in the end.” Except now she was wondering if Wyatt’s brother-in-law was her nighttime intruder.
“Harper told me about it all the next morning—I guess she must have talked with Wyatt on the phone. Terrifying. I suppose it was some druggie trying to force you inside to raid your medicine cabinet or something. That type of thing goes on, although I hadn’t heard of anything like it in Dappled Hills. It could just as well have been me—I was out that evening, too. I’d been visiting Mother at Mountain Vistas, and then picked up some takeout so Harper wouldn’t have to cook anything,” said Daniel.
Beatrice was wishing that it didn’t sound to her ears as if Daniel were changing the motive of the intruder’s visit and offering an alibi for himself all at the same time. She nodded at Daniel in response.
“Well, glad to hear you’re all right, but hope that nothing like that happens again, Beatrice. I’d better run and find Harper.” He smiled at Beatrice, and then gave Miss Sissy a polite good-bye. Miss Sissy scowled at him.
Wyatt was quickly heading back their way with a deep-fried candy bar in his hand. Daniel spotted him and hastily left. Maybe he was feeling uncomfortable that Wyatt surely knew his secret?
Wyatt wore a bemused look as he watched Daniel hurry away. “Everything all right with Daniel?” he asked. He leaned down and handed Miss Sissy the deep-fried candy bar. Beatrice had to admit that the thing, no matter how disgusting she’d thought it sounded, did smell amazingly enticing.
Miss Sissy, who always paid a lot more attention than anyone gave her credit for, abruptly said, “Poppycock!”
Beatrice looked at the old woman sharply. Was she spouting off nonsense as usual, or was she mistrustful of the convenient alibi that Daniel had given for the night of Beatrice’s intruder?
Wyatt was looking quizzically at them both, so Beatrice quickly said, “Daniel was on his way to find Harper—that’s all. He’s doing fine.”
Wyatt stooped down and held out a hand to Miss Sissy, who was still camped out on the ground. “Did you have a good rest?” he asked.
Miss Sissy decided to circumvent the question. “Let’s go to the bake-sale booth,” she said. She wore a mulish expression on her face.
“But, remember: then we’ll have to carry a cake around with us. And you’ve already got a deep-fried candy bar to eat, right?” said Wyatt in a reasonable tone. “We said we’d head to the bake-sale booth later.”
“It’s later,” said Miss Sissy flatly, before taking a large bite of her candy bar.
“Oh, look. Horseshoes!” Beatrice said in an unconvincingly surprised voice. She was ready to start focusing on something other than food. She was also beginning to wonder if it would ever be possible for she and Wyatt to have a date together with no one else butting in. Lately, it had all seemed to be retirement-home visits, casserole creation, and festivals . . . with a crowd.
June Bug, carrying a cake and with a flushed face, ran across their field of vision again.
Miss Sissy clapped her hands. “Horseshoes.”
Wyatt said with a warm smile, “Would you like to play horseshoes with me, Miss Sissy? Although I should warn you that I’m considered a pretty good horseshoe player.”
Miss Sissy did want to, and practically skipped over to the horseshoes.
“I hope she’s a good sport,” muttered Beatrice to Wyatt. “I’m not sure I can deal with a cranky Miss Sissy for the rest of the evening.”
“I think they give everyone prizes, no matter what. They have candy for consolation gifts for the kids,” said Wyatt.
They gave the man running the game some tickets.
“You go first,” said Miss Sissy to Wyatt, gesturing impatiently at the horseshoes.
“You’re sure? All right, then.” Wyatt stretched his arms to loosen up a bit. As he stretched, he said to the man taking tickets, “This is possibly the only sport I’ve ever been the slightest bit good at.”
He picked up one horseshoe and carefully made some practice pitching motions, lining up his arm with the stake in the ground. Then, sticking out his tongue in concentration, he pitched a shoe. Although it was lined up well to the stake, it fell short by a few inches. Wyatt stared at the stake in surprise. “I’m rustier than I thought. I should have practiced at home.”
“You’ve got another toss, right?” asked Beatrice, trying to sound peppy.
“That’s right. Okay, let me try again.” Wyatt frowned in concentration this time, swinging his arm back and forth in several practice motions before finally releasing it. This time the horseshoe was a ringer on the stake.
“Whew!” said Wyatt, laughing. “I was starting to worry that I’d lost my touch.” He turned to Miss Sissy who’d gotten distracted by the sight of an ice-cream stand. “Miss Sissy? Are you ready to give it a whirl?”
Miss Sissy narrowed her gaze, studying the horseshoes. These appeared, to Beatrice’s eyes, to be actual former footwear from actual horses. They were a variety of different sizes. Beatrice realized they might be in trouble when Miss Sissy reached down to try the various sizes.
Wyatt, however, was blissfully unaware. “Miss Sissy, the way you want to pitch the horseshoes is with a sort of swinging underhanded toss.” He gestured helpfully.
Miss Sissy shot him a scornful look as she hefted a horseshoe, measured the distance carefully, drew back her hand, and then tossed a shoe at the stake. It was a ringer.
The old woman crowed and clapped her hands.
“Wow. That was really good, Miss Sissy.” Wyatt looked concerned. “All right. So, now you. . . .”
But the old woman was already picking up another horseshoe and squinting at the stake. She tossed it in front of her, and it flipped in the air before clanking onto the stake as another ringer.
Beatrice and Wyatt stared at Miss Sissy. Miss Sissy danced around, eyes gleeful.
“I think you may have played this game before, Miss Sissy,” said Wyatt, still with his cheerful voice.
The next fifteen minutes demonstrated that although Wyatt certainly had a talent for horseshoes, as he pitched ringers and near misses, it showed more strongly that either Miss Sissy had an innate gift for playing the game or she had spent many hours playing as a young woman. And Miss Sissy wasn’t talking.
Wyatt looked relieved as the game finally drew to an end. The man in charge declared Miss Sissy the winner and asked her to pick out a prize. The prizes were assorted large stuffed animals. Miss Sissy weighed her options carefully. In fact, it took her longer to survey the prizes than it had for her to size up the stakes when she was pitching. Finally, she chose a tremendous lavender gorilla with a maniacal grin on its furry face.
Beatrice frowned. “Will you be able to carry that yourself, Miss Sissy?” She reached out to help her, and the old woman drew back, clutching the gorilla protectively. Beatrice shrugged, giving Wyatt a helpless look. “What now?”
“What now?” sang out a voice behind them. “What now is that y’all have fun, and I get to spend time with my favorite senior.”
Meadow bounced up, giving them both hugs and a reassuring wink. Beatrice decided that she’d never been happier to see Meadow.