Thieves.’ That was the name of it.”
He hummed the chorus, his fingers tapping out the rhythm on the glass tabletop, and for a moment, I could hear Mother’s throaty voice as she sang the line about the hypocritical men who hurled insults at the carnival folks and then came around every night eager to buy tickets for the kootch show.
“I don’t know if Tally ever did any dirty dancing,” I said, “and I’m sure there’s a lot she’s not telling me, but for somebody who had to bring herself up, looks to me like she’s done a pretty decent job of it.”
“What’s her other boy like?”
“Val? He’s about fifteen or sixteen, same build, same coloring as all your other grandsons. Prideful,” I said, remembering his outburst to me last night. “Mindful of his parents, I think. But I only spoke to him briefly.”
He listened to the silence behind my words and nodded. “When does she want to do it?”
“She doesn’t know. When I left, Chapel Hill still hadn’t called her. And that reminds me. I need to call Duck Aldcroft. He’s going to handle things for her.”
“Good.” He stood and reached for his hat. “I’ll go along then. Maidie says you’re coming for supper?”
“If you’ll have me.”
“Always room for another pair of legs under my table, shug. You know that.”
CHAPTER 8
TALLAHASSEE AMES
SUNDAY MORNING
Tally Ames awoke a little after six Sunday morning. Even though she was still tired, she was so wide-awake that she knew she’d bother Arnie if she stayed in bed. Carnies can sleep through blaring loudspeakers, the clatter of roller coasters, noisy crowds—anything except a restless bunkmate, and he’d worked hard till after midnight. She eased out of bed, slipped on her clothes, and tiptoed out for life-restoring coffee and cigarettes.
At the other end of the trailer, Val’s door was still shut, of course. He wouldn’t roll out till much before noon, either. Braz’s murder had made yesterday doubly rough on the two of them.
Braz had been a pain in the butt all summer: undependable, moody, and quicker than usual to feel sorry for himself. She kept threatening to kick him off the lot and Arnie, always more easygoing, kept giving him one more chance.
“He’s a pair of hands that can take tickets, make change, help us make our nut,” he kept reminding her, and yesterday only underscored the loss.
She herself had been absolutely useless. Short two more people, Arn and Val had scrambled to redistribute the tasks and take up the slack when they were already strained to keep all the spots covered. Worse, with police officers all over the place, one of their mechanic’s helpers had taken off, not wanting to be where there was any possibility of someone running his fingerprints.
Tally had no idea what his trouble with the law in south Georgia was and didn’t really give a damn long as he helped Raggs keep the rides going. Besides, half the people on the midway had things in their past they’d just as soon didn’t get dug up again. Too, you never knew what law officers might notice about the games themselves, gaffs that might get their stores shut down, so everybody was on edge even without all those questions about who saw what and who Braz might’ve pissed off.
The coffeemaker finished doing its thing, and she stubbed out her cigarette, filled a large mug, and stepped outside into the cool September morning. The sun was just coming up, a rare sight for her. Also rare was the quality of the air, fresh and clean, blown free of the smells of carnival foods. Most days, by the time she reached the midway to open up the Guesser, the fry vats were already bubbling with hot grease, the cotton candy makers were going full tilt, and spicy sausages were sizzling on the grill—smells so familiar and pervasive that she never noticed them until they were no longer there. Like now. Here at sunrise, it was only the smell of dew rising from the grass and dirt beneath her feet. No music either, just the sound of birds twittering in the tall oaks that ringed the Agricultural Hall and an occasional car passing beyond the fences.
Carrying her oversized coffee mug and sipping as she walked, she passed the trailers of sleeping friends and employees. No one stirred or called her name, and she was glad to have this time alone. They had rallied ‘round last night after closing, and she was grateful for their sympathy, but she wasn’t ready for more speculation as to who could have killed Braz or why, or unasked questions about her connections here. Polly was the only one besides Arn and the boys that she’d actually told about being born in this county, but several of them knew about the farm and had heard that she was related to the judge who tried those guys with the knife. Since Polly wasn’t one to chatter, Tally put it down to Braz running his mouth to Skee Matusik, who could never keep his mouth shut, either.
Whereas Val wanted nothing to do with a North Carolina family that had ignored her existence almost from the beginning, Braz had been scheming how to exploit the relationship ever since she told them that the judge in their vandalism case was actually her father’s sister. Sooner or later, Braz would have made one of the Knotts aware of who he was, despite her expressed desire to remain anonymous and unrecognized.
Not that It mattered anymore. Not now that Deborah knew who she was. Not when she’d be meeting her grandfather and God knows who else day after tomorrow. When she telephoned Duck Aldcroft at the funeral home yesterday, he’d told her that the medical examiner would be releasing Braz’s body either today or tomorrow, so they could hold the funeral Tuesday morning if that’s what she wanted.
“Tuesday will be fine,” she’d said.
“Ten o’clock?”
“Ten o’clock. About the cost, Mr. Aldcroft. I hope you won’t mind an out-of-state check?”
“You don’t need to worry about that, Mrs. Ames. Mr. Knott’s already taken care of everything. All we need you to do is come over sometime before Tuesday and select the casket.”
