Death Waxed Over - Tim Myers [7]
The flow of visitors picked up considerably, and I didn’t have time to worry about Gretel Barnett anymore. Before long I had a great many lookers, a handful of buyers, and a good start on my mailing list. I was also starving, since I’d forgotten all about breakfast in my haste to get set up in time.
During a lull, I said, “Heather, are you hungry?”
“No, I always eat a big breakfast before I do these fairs. There’s barely time to turn around during the day.”
“That was smart of you,” I said.
She studied me a second, then said, “Harrison, I’ll watch your table if you want to go grab a quick bite.”
“I hate to ask you to do that,” I said, determined to suffer through my mistake.
“Hey, we’re covering for each other here, remember? You go now and you can watch my table when I grab lunch for us later. It will be really busy then.”
“Busier than now?”
She scanned the crowds. “Just wait. On a day like today, folks are itching for a reason to get outside. We’re going to make some money, my friend, just wait and see.”
A burst of firecrackers suddenly went off twenty feet from us, and I could see more streamers dancing in the air. The noise had started the moment Founder’s Day opened, and if the pyrotechnics kept up, I was in for a major headache before it was time to wrap up and go home.
“I’d better go now then,” I said. “Do you want anything? How about some aspirin?”
“No, I’m fine. To be honest with you, I kind of like the noise. It makes me feel alive.”
I cut through the back way toward the concession area rather than fight the crowd. It was roped off for the vendors only, and I was glad to have the shortcut. Gretel didn’t even notice as I passed within three feet of her table. She was busy selling an expensive candlemaking kit to a woman with frosted hair piled high on her head in a beehive. We sold the same kits ourselves at our shop, but not for as much as she was charging. I kicked myself for not bringing more of the high-dollar items too, but I’d only had so much room on my table with my giveaway and kids area. As I walked to the concession area, I nearly tripped over a clown perched on the courthouse steps. Dressed in full makeup and costume, he looked more at home at the celebration than I did. Maybe Eve had been right. I probably should have stayed home.
I grabbed a sausage-and-egg biscuit and an orange juice from one of the food vendors and nearly knocked Pearly down as I turned around to head back to my table.
“I didn’t know you were coming to the festivities,” I said.
Pearly said, “A man has to do something with his time off. Harrison, there’s something I need to discuss with you.”
“Walk with me back to my table and we can talk along the way,” I said. I didn’t want to leave Heather alone for too long.
He glanced toward my spot, then shook his head. “I’d rather not, if you don’t mind. We could go over to the courthouse steps away from the crowd, though.”
“Pearly, I’d love to be able to do that, but Heather’s watching my table for me, and I can’t leave her alone. Is it something that can wait?”
“I suppose so,” he said reluctantly.
“Good. We’ll talk about it first thing Monday morning then.”
I started back toward my table, wolfing down the biscuit as I walked. I’d probably get indigestion from the fast meal on my feet, but I didn’t have much choice. I tossed the wrapper and empty carton of juice into a trash can near the cannon, wiped my hands on my bandana, then ran my hand around the inside rim of the pitted metal of the empty barrel for good luck before I walked back to my vending spot amid the noise of firecrackers exploding all around me.
While I was still fifteen feet away from my table, I noticed a commotion out of the corner of my eye and turned just in time to see Gretel