Part 1 (1/2)

Father Knows Death.

Jeffrey Allen.

MR. MYSTERY.

”I'm not sure what I know but I heard another crazy story that might somehow matter.”

”Nothing is ever too crazy for this asylum you call a town,” Victor said. ”Spill it.”

I told him what Susan told me about Matilda Biggs and Spellman.

A smirk emerged on Victor's face. ”Now we're getting somewhere.”

I smashed a mosquito lurking by my ankle, ready to strike. ”Hey, I'm telling you, this Susan woman might be just as nuts as the rest of them. She could've made it up on the spot for all I know,” I said.

”Easy enough to find out,” he said, pus.h.i.+ng himself off the steps and adjusting his hat. ”I'll talk to Mama Biggs and work out the financials. She wants to ante up, we can visit this little meeting tomorrow night and see what shakes out.”

I glanced up at the window, then back at him. ”I promised Julianne I'd stay out of this one.”

”You mean like every other case we take?”

I paused. ”Yes.”

He grinned as his little legs took him to his car. ”So figure out a way to start apologizing to her.”

1.

George Spellman's lifeless face gazed at me amid the packages of frozen bratwursts.

I stared at him for a moment and then closed the freezer door. Not because I was shocked or horrified at finding a dead body. I closed it because I realized I wasn't fazed by finding a dead man stuffed inside a freezer. I wondered if I should just stop opening things.

It was late April and I was working the grill at the Carriveau County Fair. Rose Petal was in the heart of Carriveau County and our fair was an anomaly. Because Texas summers were so hot, our fair was held every April. All of the towns in the county shut down, schools were closed, and everyone spent the entire week at the fair. It was like an extra week of spring break, but with carnival rides, farm animals, and lots of fried food. Monday and Tuesday were spent setting up, cleaning out the barns, getting the animals delivered and letting the ride operators get their rides set up. Wednesday, everyone rolled in. It had been that way, on that schedule, for as long as anyone could remember.

Carly had joined our local 4-H chapter last year because she liked the furry little animals, and one of their big fund-raisers was working the food stand during the fair. The summer temperatures had moved in early this year, however, and there was nothing quite like working an outdoor grill in hundred-degree heat. So much for avoiding the heat.

”I think we're gonna need some more burgers and dogs for the grill, Deuce,” Pete Boodle said, wiping his brow with a red bandanna. ”Some brats, too. Lunch rush is gonna be any minute.”

The large grill was littered with thin hamburger patties, hot dogs, and a few bratwursts. They were probably seasoned with a bit of Pete's sweat.

”There's a big freezer in the back,” he said, pointing toward the kitchen. ”We use it for extra storage. Should be a bunch in there.”

”How many should I grab?” I asked.

”As many as you can carry,” he said, chuckling. ”It's gonna be a madhouse in about five minutes.”

We'd been working nonstop since our four-hour s.h.i.+ft began and I found it hard to believe it could get any busier. I could think of about fifty other things I would've rather been doing on a Wednesday afternoon than basting myself over a dirty grill at our county fair. But there's one thing you learn as a parent: when your kid signs up for something, you're signing up for it, too.

”All right,” I told Pete. ”Be back in a minute.”

”Grab us some drinks, too.” He flipped the already overdone patties again. ”So we don't die out here.”

I waved at him and stepped into the food stand kitchen, which was nothing more than a saunalike shack that disguised itself as a fast-food restaurant for one week a year. There was a covered eating area for about a hundred people, front and back counters, a giant indoor grill and fryer, some sinks, and a bunch of refrigerators.

Oh, and about fifty people squeezed into the kitchen trying to serve the fairgoers.

Voices screamed and yelled about cheese and drinks and burgers and buns as people who had no business serving and preparing food attempted to do just that.

A pink-faced Carly squeezed by me, carrying two bottles of water. ”Hey, Daddy.”

”What's up, kid?”

”I'm getting water,” she shouted. ”For some people!”

Her oversize green 4-H s.h.i.+rt hung nearly to her knees and her hair was hidden beneath a bright yellow bandanna. She was nearly six years old and starting to a.s.sert her independence already.

”Good for you, kiddo.”

She scurried past me and snaked her way through the group of workers out to the front counter to deliver her water.

Julianne was perched on a tall stool, her gloved hands submerged in a deep sink, was.h.i.+ng orange and green plastic trays.

I walked over and kissed her sweaty cheek. ”You should probably be at home.”

She spun on the stool to look at me. Her green T-s.h.i.+rt was riding up over her enormous stomach.

”Why?” she asked, setting down a tray. ”Because its seven hundred degrees in here and I'm like fourteen months pregnant?”

”Yes. Exactly.”

”I'm tough.”

I touched her very round belly. ”I know that. I'm just hoping the new kid likes the heat.”

”They won't have a choice. We live in Texas, Deuce.”

”Doesn't mean you need to boil them in your stomach.”

”I'm hoping that will encourage it to get the h.e.l.l out of my body,” she said.

Julianne was a week past her due date and looked ready to pop. Because I enjoyed my health, I didn't say that out loud. But she'd been carrying around a baby for ten months now and she was ready to bond with it in person. We all were.

”I'm going to get meat” I said.