Chapter 10
Word of Gerald's death had spread among the re-enactors overnight. At the final brunch, Harriet paced behind the buffet tables while Connie dispensed warm cinnamon rolls from a large metal pan.
Harriet could see the Confederate Quilter's Club working their way through the line.
'Is it true the police think one of the horses pushed that man into a tree stump and killed him?” Inez asked Harriet when she'd reached the cinnamon rolls. Connie selected a large bun and put it on her plate.
'That was a suggestion made by one of the attending paramedics. Someone either overheard, or he repeated it,” Harriet said. “I don't think they have any idea what happened.'
'You have my contact information,” Sharon said. “Could you let us know when they determine what happened? If a horse was involved, we'll need to look at what further safety procedures we can implement.'
'We'll let you know, but I'll be surprised if it turns out a horse had anything to do with Mr. Willis's death.'
They moved on, leaving Connie and Harriet to roll duty.
'Hey,” Carlton said and held his plate out to Connie. “This looks delicious.” His plate was filled with scrambled eggs, bacon and fruit salad. He'd left a large space for a cinnamon roll.
'Do you have any smaller rolls?” Bebe asked as she came up behind him. “My baby is watching his weight.” Her plate held a teaspoonful of eggs and several pieces of fruit.
Carlton looked longingly at the pan of rolls before mumbling “never mind” and moving on to the end of the table to pick up plastic utensils and a napkin.
'She's a real piece of work,” Connie said as she placed a roll on the next plate held out to her.
'Do you want me to hand out a few?” Harriet offered.
'I think I can handle it. Besides, you're making me nervous with all that pacing. Why don't you go find your young man and spend a little of that nervous energy on him?'
'If you're sure you don't need me.'
Connie rolled her eyes skyward. “Go,” she said.
The tables had been set up on a grassy verge that separated the battlefield from the sutlers’ area. The two end booths in the sutler's area had been emptied and re-configured into a food service space. Harriet walked out onto the verge and looked for Aiden.
He spotted her first and waved, catching her attention. He was seated at a table on the far side of the eating area. She wended her way through the tables, greeting people as she went.
'Good job on all this,” Aiden said and made a sweeping motion that encompassed the entire park. He rose and kissed her on the cheek then pulled out her chair before sitting back down, flicking a strand of his silky black hair from his white-blue eyes as he did so.
'I'm glad it's over. I just wish Gerald Willis hadn't been the grande finale.'
'Yeah, that's pretty weird. I wonder if it's still considered murder if the victim has been dead for twenty years.'
'That's one of the questions the Loose Threads identified last night. Not the murder question, but the declared dead part. We want to see his death certificate. We figure Mavis must have one.'
'She probably does, but whether it's real is another story.” Aiden leaned back in his chair. “I'll bet I could get on the internet and within five minutes have a copy of a Malaysian death certificate and with a little cut-and-paste I could make it be anyone's. You copy it onto fancy paper, and who in Foggy Point is going to know it's a fake?'
'You're right. If she showed me a death certificate right now, I'd have no way of knowing if it was valid or not.'
'How's Mavis holding up?'
'You know Mavis. She was shocked, but now she wants answers just like the rest of us. It has to hurt, though- they were married for a long time when he left.'
'We don't know what his reason was, though. Maybe he had a good one.'
'Yeah, well, I'd like to hear it. The re-enactors are all worried that one of their horses was involved. I think I'll walk across the field and check out the area where he died again. Want to come?'
'I'd love to, but…” He paused and pointed at the dark-haired toddler sitting and banging a pair of Styrofoam cups together in the grass just beyond the table. “I'm on nanny duty. Carla went for a walk with her friend.'
Harriet got up. “Well, I'm going to look. I'll let you know if I find anything.'
'Can you wait until Carla gets back?'
'How long is she going to be?” She could tell from his face he had no idea.
'I told her to take her time,” he said.
Harriet reached out and turned his arm so she could see the face of his watch.
'I better go on and look-I have to be back in a half-hour to clean up after brunch.'
'Stop here first and I'll help.'
'If Carla's back, you mean.'
'Come on, don't be like that. If you'd been there when Terry asked Carla to go for a walk, you would have offered to babysit, too.'
'But she didn't ask
The bleachers were all but gone. The rental people had been there for several hours disassembling the structure. She paused to look at the spot in the forest where she had first noticed Gerald.
From this distance, she couldn't see any large stumps or broken trees in the area where she'd found him. There were clumps of brambles and vines separating two pathways that went deeper into the forest; she'd have to take a closer look to see if the berry vines were hiding a secret.
The dry grass crunched as she circled the end of the battlefield and moved along the edge of the woods. Since the re-enactors were still in the park, the police had removed their yellow crime scene tape as soon as they were finished documenting the location. Carlton and the mayor both had spent the morning circulating through the brunch, glad-handing the out-of-town visitors and encouraging them to come back next year while downplaying Gerald's death at the same time.
Harriet wasn't sure what she was looking for. The grass was still flat where Gerald had collapsed. She squatted on her haunches to take a closer look. There were a few dark streaks of what must be blood. Not really that much, considering a man had died, she thought. She scanned the area to the left and then to the right.
A fine white powder dusted the area to the right of where Gerald's shoulders had been. She ran her fingers through the grass, picking up powder in the process. She expected it to feel slightly sticky, as pollen might have, but it was very smooth. She made a mental note to ask Darcy, a sometimes Loose Thread member and crime scene technician, if the criminalists used powder in their processing of an outdoor scene.
Harriet heard a branch rustle. She stood, and could see the leaves of the tree above her head moving in the slight breeze. She looked back across the field and spied Aiden's dark head as he sat at the table, Wendy in his lap. She turned and went farther into the woods in the direction Gerald must have come from.
A loop of root caught the toe of her shoe. She bent down to free her foot, and a small blue cylinder caught her eye. She reached to pick it up, and a burst of pain shot through her shoulder as she was smashed to the ground.
She heard a scream and realized it had come from her. A wave of nausea swept through her as she sank deeper into the prickly vines she'd landed on.
Strong hands lifted her.
'Are you okay?” a male voice asked.
'Aiden?” she mumbled and opened her eyes.
Instead of the ice-blue eyes she expected to see, a stranger's dark-brown ones looked intently at her. His hair was close-cropped, unlike Aiden's dark silky locks that hung below his ears.
'I can't feel my right arm,” she replied.
'Here, let me help you to that log.” Without waiting for an answer, he guided her to the end of a downed tree that lay parallel to the path. He didn't let go until she was seated.
