Room for Murder - Tim Myers [45]
From the aisle, they heard a familiar voice say, “No need, I’m already here.”
Mor looked strained as the sheriff approached. Armstrong said, “I heard about this outside. What happened?”
“Somebody’s idea of a bad joke,” Alex said, respecting Tracy’s wish not to make a big deal of it.
“I don’t think it’s all that funny,” the sheriff said as he tugged on one leg, which promptly came off in his hand. He stared at a second, then dropped it to the floor. It was obvious Mor was choking back laughter, and Armstrong was too sharp to miss it.
“You think this is funny,” he said angrily.
“The dummy or the leg?” Mor asked.
Armstrong said, “If I were you, I wouldn’t be joking around about anything. I’m not done with you, Mister.”
“You know where I am,” Mor said. “See you later, Alex.”
As Armstrong watched Mor go, Alex found the rope holding up the dummy tied off to the side. He said, “Sheriff, should I lower it to the floor?”
“Yeah, you’all are probably right; it’s got to be some kind of prank. I swear, kids have way too much time on their hands these days.”
Alex untied the rope and the dummy eased to the floor. He nudged the hand-printed sign with his toe. Blast it all, he couldn’t just let it go. If something happened to Tracy because he hadn’t made a fuss about this, Alex would never forgive himself.
He said, “Sheriff, maybe you should have one of your deputies keep an eye on Tracy, at least until Election Day.”
Armstrong shook his head. “I wish I could, but I’m not running the Secret Service, Alex. I don’t have the manpower or the budget to protect either candidate.”
“This could be serious,” Alex pressed.
“Tell you what, I’ll have some of the boys keep an eye on her house when they’re out on patrol. Does that satisfy you?”
“I know it’s the best you can do with what you’ve got,” Alex said. “So what do we do about this?”
Armstrong said, “Let the stage manager deal with it. It’s most likely his dummy anyway.”
Alex retrieved the sign. “Shouldn’t we at least have this checked for fingerprints?”
Armstrong said, “What’s this ‘we’ business? There’s nothing here to investigate, and you’re not a cop, Alex.”
The innkeeper tucked the sign under one arm and said, “Then I’m taking it with me, if you don’t mind.”
“Suit yourself,” Armstrong said. “Come on, Alex, I’ll walk you out.”
Alex followed him out of the auditorium, still wondering about the seriousness of the threat against Tracy. Maybe he could convince her to come out to the inn and stay until after the election. At least there he could keep an eye on her.
It was worth a shot.
Back at the inn, Alex found Elise alone in the lobby of the Main Keeper’s Quarters. “Where’s Emma?” he asked.
“I thought she was listening to the debate with you.”
“She just left. She decided she couldn’t stand it anymore and went over to Mor’s to try to patch things up,” Elise admitted.
“Emma needs to give him some space,” Alex said. “He’s not ready to talk about this yet.”
Elise said, “He might not be ready, but Emma’s dying inside.” She pointed to the sign under his arm. “What’s that?”
Alex held it up by its edges for her to read. Elise said, “Where on earth did you find it?”
“It was hanging around a dummy’s neck backstage of the auditorium. The mannequin was dressed up to look like Tracy. Conner swears he didn’t do it, but I’m not sure I believe him.”
Elise sat back on the sofa. ““What did Tracy do when she found it?”
“She fainted. Good old Conner was right there to catch her, too.”
Elise frowned. “That poor woman.”
“You don’t know the half of it. Max Logan got a picture of Tracy fainting dead away into Conner’s arms with the dummy hanging in the background.”
Elise said, “That’s terrible, especially after the debate went so well for her.”
Alex stoked the fire, then said, “Do you really think she did all that well? I hate to admit it, but I thought Conner did some real damage, and there was her hesitation there at the start. It was kind of rough on her.”
Elise said, “What hesitation? We didn’t hear anything on the radio.