of herself.
“It was nice of you to come out and watch. What are those people doing, staying out in the field?' she added. A group of soldiers and the women who had been behind her and Shelley during the early part of the reenactment were huddled in a knot. Some were kneeling.
Mel looked in that direction for a minute; then Jane noticed him stand a little straighter.
“I think there's something wrong,' he said quietly.
Jane stood up and could see that there was someone or something lying on the ground. 'Uh-oh. Do you think someone really did have a heat stroke?”
As she spoke, one of the women in the group suddenly broke away and started running toward them. She was tearing along at full tilt and as she got near where Jane and Mel were standing, she tripped over her skirts. Mel grabbed her to break her fall.
“I have to call an ambulance!' she cried.
“Sit down here before you collapse,' Mel said, leading her to the chair Jane had abandoned. 'I'll call for you.' He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a mobile phone Jane hadn't known he was carrying.
“What happened?' Jane asked.
The woman, clad in the same kind of heavy, hot garments Jane was wearing, was red-faced and gulping for breath. 'It's Ms. Palmer. I think she's dead!'
“Oh, no!' Jane exclaimed. 'Surely she just fainted from the heat!'
“No!' The younger woman was sobbing now. 'No, she's been shot!”
The young woman, still sobbing, tried to drink, hiccuped and choked a bit, then tried again. Her brilliant orange-red hair had been pulled into a tiny bun at the back of her head, but had come loose and was frizzed around her face, which was now drenched with sweat and as pale as an eggshell. Jane was afraid she might be going into shock. She grabbed a brochure someone had dropped on the ground and started fanning her charge with both hands.
The young woman took several gulps, a couple of deep breaths, and her color improved.
“I'm sorry I acted so hysterical,' she finally said. 'Thank you for the drink.'
“I'm Jane Jeffry. I don't think we met before the reenactment.'
“I'm Sharlene Lloyd. I'm — I
“Now, now. We don't know for sure yet.”
Jane glanced around. Mel had finished his phone call and was striding out across the field. Several people were staring at Sharlene and many more were wandering about. 'Sharlene, are your regular clothes in that house trailer where my friend and I got dressed?' Sharlene nodded. 'Then let's go cool off and get our own clothes on.'
“I can't. I should be helping.'
“There's nothing we can do right now, and you'll need your wits about you later. Come on,' Jane insisted.
She took Sharlene's arm and led her through the fairgrounds. Along the way, she spotted Shelley, who joined them and whispered, 'What happened?”
Jane put a finger to her lips and muttered, 'Later.”
The mobile home the museum had rented for the staff's use was parked in a shady spot behind the Pea Pod Ride, an ancient, creaking mechanism with baskets fashioned to look like pea pods. The mobile home was large, luxurious, and must have been specially selected for the power of its air-conditioning system; for as the three women entered, they were engulfed in what seemed to them, after being outside, likefrigid air. Sharlene picked through the grocery bags neatly lined up on the sofa for the one with her name on it in red.
“Do you think it's okay if I use the shower?' she asked.
“I'd say it was mandatory,' Jane replied with an encouraging grin.
Sharlene smiled weakly and disappeared into the minuscule bathroom.
“What on earth is going on?' Shelley asked the moment the door had closed.
“Sharlene said someone was shot to death out on that field.”
Shelly put her hand over her mouth. 'No!”
“She said it was her boss.'
“Regina Price Palmer?'
“Yes, Palmer was the name. Who is she?”
“She's the museum director,' Shelley replied. 'Oh, of course. Her name was in the brochure. That's why it sounded familiar.'
“Is she right?' Shelley asked. 'Sharlene's obviously in bad shape herself. Could the heat have made her a little loopy?”
Jane shrugged. 'I don't know. But something certainly happened. Someone was on the ground with a crowd standing around looking alarmed.”
Just as the faint sound of sirens became audible, there was a sharp knock on the door, and in stepped a young man in farmer's overalls rolled up to his knees, with a straw hat perched on his head of brown hair worn in a long ponytail. 'Excuse me, do either of you know where Sharlene Lloyd is?'
“Yes, she's showering and changing,' Shelley said.
“She's okay, then? Good.' He put out his hand to Jane, who was closest to him. 'Jumper Cable,' he said.
Jane took his hand. 'I'm sorry — I have no idea where you'd find a jumper cable.'
“No, that's me.'
“You're a jumper cable?' Jane asked with alarm, gingerly freeing her hand. Had the heat made everyone crazy? Or perhaps she was crazy and imagining this conversation. Soon she'd be thinking she was Napoleon.
“I'm sorry. Tom Cable. People call me Jumper.”
Relieved, Shelley and Jane introduced themselves. Jumper said, 'I just wanted to make sure Sharlene was okay. Tell her I came by, would you?”
And with that, he was gone. A second later, Sharlene emerged from the bathroom. She had on a denim skirt, a sleeveless white blouse, and sandals; a towel was wrapped around her head. She held her 'pioneer woman' clothes in her arms. She was obviously feeling better, at least physically. 'I'm sorry. It was rude of me to rush in first like that. I probably used all the hot water, too.'
“I hope you have,' Shelley said. 'I want a cold shower. Oh, a boy calling himself Jumper Cable came to see if you were okay.”
Sharlene blushed. 'He's not a boy. Tom Cable is the museum's attorney. Thanks for telling me.'
“Attorney?' Jane asked. 'He looked barely old enough to vote!'
“He does look young,' Sharlene said a bit defensively, 'but he's thirty-three years old. Last May twelfth.”
Shelley picked out her own grocery sack and took her turn in the bathroom. She came out a few minutes later, looking as fresh as new paint. Her short, dark hair was already half dry and as tidy as always. Sharlene went to hang up all their pioneer clothes while Jane got cleaned up. There was no hot water left, as Sharlene had predicted, but the cool shower was refreshing and putting on clean, lightweight cotton clothes was even more so. Jane was still combing out her wet, dark blond mop of hair when Mel arrived.
“I thought I'd never find you!' he exclaimed.
“Sharlene, this is my friend Detective Mel VanDyne,' Jane said. 'Sharlene Lloyd is Ms. Palmer's secretary.”
Sharlene asked, 'Is she dead? Really?'
“I'm afraid so, Ms. Lloyd. Do you feel like answering a few questions?”
Sharlene became teary-eyed again. 'I think — will you excuse me for a minute?”
She disappeared into the depths of the mobile home, and Mel said to Jane and Shelley, 'Then I'll start with
