“There’s no way he could have prevented something like this.”

  “Tell that to the voracious media. They are going to be all over this. See you in a few.”

  I closed my phone and turned to Aunt Garnet. “I’m going to see if someone will tell me who the victim is.”

  “It’s someone named Cal,” Aunt Garnet said. “One of the security boys in the red shirts recognized him.”

  My head felt like it was filled with buzzing bees. Calvin Jones? Jazz’s new boyfriend? This was getting crazier by the minute. Who in the world would kill that quiet, unassuming young man?

  A scowling face suddenly came to my mind. “Dodge Burnside.”

  Aunt Garnet stared at me. “Who’s Dodge Burnside?”

  “Be right back.” I walked over to where Gabe was talking to Miguel, one of Elvia’s younger brothers and a San Celina police officer.

  “Hey, Miguel,” I said. He wore one of the red Fair Security polo shirts, so he was obviously moonlighting, something a lot of the young officers did. “Gabe, I need to talk to you.”

  He nodded at Miguel, then walked with me away from the crowd. “What’s up?”

  “I heard that Calvin Jones is the victim.”

  “They don’t have a positive ID yet, but one of the security guys recognized him from working at the Mobil station.”

  “Did you know he and Jazz were seeing each other?”

  He tilted his head. “No, but how is that relevant?”

  “The fight between Jazz and Dodge Burnside,” I reminded him. “I never told Levi about it. I don’t know if Levi is even aware she was dating this Calvin Jones.”

  Gabe thought for a moment. “Right now I think the more information Levi has about all this, the better he can decide what to do. But I’m not sure you’re the right person to tell him.”

  We glanced over at the doors where the sound of a very unhappy woman’s voice was arguing with one of the security guard. It was Katsy. Maggie stood behind her, resting a hand on her sister’s arm.

  “Young man, I need to see Levi Clark now.” Katsy’s strong, contralto voice carried across the room. “Let me by or I’ll report you to your superior.” The security guard looked around as if he were debating whether it might be prudent if he fled the scene. “Detective Hudson. DETECTIVE FORD HUDSON!”

  Hud’s head jerked up. When he saw who was shouting, he called over to the security guard, “Let them in.”

  Katsy headed straight for Levi who was standing next to Hud. Maggie walked over to Gabe and me.

  “This is unbelievable,” she said, her eyelashes glistening.

  I stood up, put my arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “Has anyone gotten in touch with Jazz?”

  Maggie shook her head. “She isn’t answering her cell phone. No one has seen her all morning.”

  That made me more than a little nervous, though there was no reason to believe she was in danger. “Maggie, someone has to tell Levi everything. He needs to know about Jazz and Cal and about the fight she and Dodge Burnside had yesterday. We have to find Jazz and make sure she’s okay.”

  “I know, I know. Katsy and I discussed it on the way over here. She’s going to tell him everything.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. At least it wasn’t up to me. Since Katsy was practically Jazz’s stepmother, the information seemed more appropriate coming from her.

  “Do they know how the poor boy died yet?” Maggie asked. “Oh, I feel so bad for him. He didn’t have a soul in the world. Both his parents died before he was fourteen and he was in nine foster homes before he aged out of the system. He was trying so hard to make a life for himself.” Her dark eyes filled with tears. “Cal Jones had had some problems with alcohol and some petty crime, but he really was a good boy at heart. Hardest working hand Katsy and I ever hired.” A tiny sob caught in her throat. “That poor, poor boy.”

  Gabe put his hand on her shoulder and patted it gently. “Let me see what they’ve found out.”

  “At least he had you and Katsy,” I said while we watched Gabe walk over to Levi who was talking into his walkie-talkie for the tenth time in the last five minutes. “And he had Jazz. He didn’t die without people caring about him.”

  We walked back over to join Aunt Garnet who sat perched on the edge of the wooden bench writing in a small leather notebook. I sat down next to her and said in a low voice, “Aunt Garnet, what are you doing?”

  “Making a list of things we know. It’s so easy to forget the details. We need to establish who had access to this place during the probable time of the homicide. Then we need to find out who saw him last. Then . . .”

  Before I could sputter any kind of answer to my aunt’s crazy ramblings, Gabe came back, his face sober.

  “Looks like someone whacked him in the head with a board or maybe a baseball bat.”

  “Blunt force trauma,” Aunt Garnet murmured, nodding her head and writing furiously in her notebook.

  Maggie’s face scrunched up, tears only seconds away.

  “Mags, you know that the sheriff’s department will do their best to find out who did this,” Gabe said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Detective Hudson is in charge and he’s an excellent investigator.”

  I tried to hide my shock. Fortunately, Gabe was looking at Maggie, not me. Gabe giving Hud any credit for being a good detective was one miracle I thought I’d never see in my lifetime. Especially after Hud just embarrassed Gabe in public. Then again, my often arrogant husband kind of deserved it. He’d do exactly the same thing if Hud tried to take charge of a crime in Gabe’s jurisdiction.

  “What’s going on now?” Maggie sniffed loudly and started digging through her purse. “Why don’t I ever have tissue when I need one?”

  “Here, dear,” Aunt Garnet said, handing her a neatly ironed, lace-trimmed cotton hankie. “You sit down here next to me and pull yourself together.”

  “Thank you,” Maggie said, dabbing the hankie under each swollen eye.

  “They’re getting the path behind the building cleared so the body can be removed with as little fanfare as possible.” Gabe grimaced. “No pun intended. This is apparently the first homicide they’ve had in the fair’s history. It’s a delicate situation.”

  “Political backlash will be a problem,” Aunt Garnet said, nodding. “They’ll likely have to form a task force after establishing firm jurisdiction, of course. No one’s going to want this hot potato.”

  Gabe’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He glanced at me. I shrugged. Apparently my aunt’s body had been taken over by Jessica Fletcher.

  Levi and Katsy walked up, both their faces unemotional. Levi’s walkie-talkie crackled loudly and he turned the volume down.

  “Benni, may we talk?” Levi asked. “Alone?”

  “Sure.” We walked over to the other side of the building in front of the Vieira Family Farm exhibit.

  He stuck his hands in the pockets of his creased slacks. “Katsy tells me you saw what happened with my daughter and this Dodge kid. Tell me everything.”

  After I told him what I saw yesterday, he stared silently at the Vieira exhibit. “What is wrong with kids today?” he finally said.

  I didn’t answer because, one, it sounded like the question was rhetorical, and two, if it wasn’t, I sure wasn’t qualified to give any insights into late-twentieth-century teenage psyches.

  I stared at the all access badge clipped to his shirt pocket. His photo showed the wide, friendly smile, something he’d always been known for. That and for never being rattled by any situation no matter how crazy or dire. From the first years he worked at the fair, when something went wrong whoever was in management grew to depend on Levi’s opinions and solutions. With his cool-headed, organized personality and his knowledge of every aspect of the fair’s inner workings, he was an invaluable employee. Those traits were, no doubt, why he got the manager’s job. Mishaps, big and small, were a guarantee with the fair and Levi expertly handled it all. Except murder. Like Gabe said, this was a first.

  “I knew she’d been seeing this Burnside kid,” he said. “I didn’t like it and I told her so. I also knew she’d run around with Justin Piebald. He’s a nice young man, but . . .” He left the rest unsaid, letting me fill in the rest. Justin was okay, but his dad was another story. “But this Calvin Jones. Who in the world is he? I know absolutely nothing about him except what Katsy told me five minutes ago. And the Burnside kid threatening her? How could my daughter keep something like that from me?”

  Before I could answer, there was another ruckus over at the door.

  “Let me in now!” Jazz demanded.

  She pushed past the young security guard who’d tried to keep Katsy out and who now wore an expression that seemed to say—maybe working at McDonald’s wasn’t so bad. Hud went over and assured him it was okay to let her through.

  “Where’s Cal? Someone told me that Cal was hurt.” Her voice rose into a hysterical soprano.

  Levi started toward her, moving quickly across the hall, trying to intercept her before she reached Calvin’s body. But he wasn’t fast enough. He and I came up behind her seconds after she pushed her way through the forensic team to where they were now carefully untangling Calvin’s body from the bloodstained quilt.

  Her scream echoed through the building’s high ceiling. She turned to Levi, her face glossy with tears.

  “Daddy,” she cried, collapsing into his arms.

  CHAPTER 7

  AFTER LEVI CALMED JAZZ DOWN, HE BROUGHT HER OVER TO THE bench where Aunt Garnet sat. My aunt spoke softly to the young girl, rubbing her back with small circles in the way you might calm a toddler. She seemed to be able to soothe Jazz when no one else could.

  Hud came over to where we stood. “Levi, I’m sorry, but this building will be off limits until tomorrow. Maybe longer.”

  Levi nodded, his expression resigned. “We’ll do whatever we can to help your investigation.” He kept giving his daughter worried glances.

  “Can we look at the quilt?” Maggie asked Hud.

  He nodded. “Just don’t get too close or touch anything.”

  The forensic team had spread the quilt across the hood of the truck shell. The sister’s heads touched as they bent over surveying the damage, their hands clasped behind their backs.

  “Would you like me to take Jazz home?” I asked Levi.

  He shook his head. “Thanks, but Katsy said she’d take her out to their ranch. Better chance of avoiding the media.” He ran a hand over his perspiring face. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

  Gabe placed his hand on Levi’s shoulder. “You’ll get through this. No reasonable person can blame you.”

  Levi’s face remained sober. “Reason never has anything to do with what the media pounces on. Controversy is what sells papers.”

  Gabe nodded without answering. He knew Levi was right because he’d experienced it. Anytime something happened with the San Celina Police Department that was the least bit controversial, there was always someone who questioned whether Gabe actually “earned” the right to be chief through his abilities or whether he was an “affirmative action” appointee.

  “Let me know if I can help,” Gabe said.

  A young uniformed sheriff’s deputy cleared his throat behind Levi. “Uh, Mr. Clark? Detective Hudson would like to speak to you.”

  Levi glanced over at Jazz.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “Aunt Garnet and I will stay with her until Katsy or Maggie takes her out to the ranch.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  He bent over, whispered a few words in his daughter’s ear, then kissed her on the head.

  “Guess I’ll go on home,” Gabe said to me. “Are you going to be all right?”

  I stood up on my toes and kissed his cheek. “I’m fine. I thought I’d take Aunt Garnet to Liddie’s for dinner. Want to join us?”

  “If you don’t mind . . .” His expression was apologetic.

  “Go home, Friday, and put your feet up. Don’t forget to feed Scout.”

  “I’ll keep the home fires burning. Change that to I’ll keep the air-conditioning on.”

  I joined Aunt Garnet and Jazz, whose quiet crying had turned into an occasional shuddering hiccup. Her cheeks were stained with dots of mascara; her eyelids pink and swollen.

  I sat down next to her. “Your dad told you he wanted you to go out to the ranch with Katsy and Maggie, right?”

  She threw up a hand in frustration. “I don’t need to be protected! He’s just afraid I’ll fall apart and the newspapers will see it.”

  “Sweetie, I think he’s just trying to keep you safe. I know about overprotective daddies. They can’t help themselves. He’s under a lot of pressure right now so why don’t you humor him and stay under the radar tonight? This’ll all look a little less daunting tomorrow.”

  “She’s right,” Maggie said, walking up to catch the last of my sentence. “We’ll reconsider everything tomorrow, okay?”

  Realizing she was outnumbered, Jazz nodded mutely and gave a loud, wet sniff.

  “You keep it,” Aunt Garnet told Jazz when she tried to return her hankie. “I have a hundred of them. Apparently people think old ladies do a lot of nose blowing.”

  After saying good-bye, Aunt Garnet and I walked over to where Hud watched the forensic team bag evidence. She peered over the shoulder of one gloved technician. “Careful now, young lady. Don’t want to contaminate the evidence.”

  The frizzy-haired woman who looked to be about my age gave her a bewildered look. “Are you with one of the other departments?”

  “Independent investigator,” Aunt Garnet said curtly. “Carry on.”

  Hud slipped a hand up to his mouth, hiding his smile.

  “Can we leave?” I asked him, feeling my face turn warm. “Aunt Garnet needs some supper.” And, apparently, a reality check.

  “Sure,” he said, winking. “I’ll call you if I need to ask you anything tonight. Otherwise, just come over to the office first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll take an official statement.”

  “No problem,” I said.

  “We’ll be there,” Aunt Garnet said, settling her leather purse over her arm.

  There’d be no “we” about it, but I wasn’t about to rain on her parade right now.

  Aunt Garnet and I slipped out a back door to avoid the journalists already hanging around the front entrance. A couple of security guys were sneaking a smoke in the small, secluded patio. When they saw us, they dropped their cigarettes and stubbed them out with their steel-toed black boots.

  “Lung cancer is very painful,” Aunt Garnet said, breezing past them.

  “Bite me, old lady,” one guy said in a low voice.

  “I’d rather eat dirt,” my aunt replied primly over her shoulder.

  He’d obviously miscalculated her hearing capabilities. And her chutzpah.

  Her quick retort caused me to giggle.

  “Cancer isn’t a bit funny,” Aunt Garnet said. “Those foolish young men should heed my words.”

  “No, ma’am. Yes, ma’am.” Then I immediately sobered. Was she trying to subtly tell me something? “Aunt Garnet, are you all right?”

  She glared at me. “Whatever do you mean? Of course I’m all right.”

  She pulled her purse close to her body and marched away. I double-stepped to catch up with her.

  “Follow me,” I said. “I know the shortcuts.” Utilizing the secret paths I’d learned as a child, Aunt Garnet and I made it through the fairgrounds without any reporters seeing us. Though I was beginning to wonder if giving an interview that would show up on the front page of the Tribune might actually be what Aunt Garnet was hoping for. This new Aunt Garnet was kind of kicky, but also nerve-racking because she was so unpredictable. I was beginning to appreciate Dove’s suspicions about her sister. There was definitely something going on with her, though I doubted that it had anything to do with stealing Dove’s much envied corn bread recipe. Aunt Garnet’s sharp comments about cancer had unnerved me.

  “Tell me all about the crime scene,” Nadine said, once we sat down in the spongy red leatherette booth at Liddie’s Café. (Open Twenty-Five Hours a Day! its sign proclaimed.) Her brown eyes were magnified behind the bright pink cat’s-eye glasses perched on her bony nose. I wasn’t surprised she had already heard about the murder. Nadine had been pouring coffee, serving pie and keeping tabs on folks in San Celina County since long before I was born.

  “Give me a break, Nadine,” I said, perusing the big plastic menu I knew by heart. “You already know every detail of what happened.”

  “I know some of ’em,” she said, taking a pencil out of her pinkish teased hair. “But there’s nothing like an eyewitness.” She was counting on us giving her some tidbit that would give her street cred with her next fifty customers.

  “It was quite something, Nadine,” Aunt Garnet said, sipping her iced tea. Since Aunt Garnet had visited San Celina at least once a year for the last thirty years, she and Nadine were old friends. “I think they needed more forensic investigators. They should have fingerprinted everyone present, but they let us go without taking prints. A bit incompetent, if you ask me. And not nearly enough photographs were being taken of the crime scene. Their cameras seemed a bit outdated. One would think they’d have more advanced technology seeing as this is the West Coast. They ought to look into that newfangled digital photography.”

  “Tragic,” Nadine said, shaking her head. “Who’s running the show?”

  “Benni’s young man, Detective Hudson.”

  “He’s not my young man,” I said.

  “He’s all right,” Nadine said. “Kind of a smart-mouth but sharp as a new razor. Usually works cold cases.”

  “Well,” Aunt Garnet said, “let’s hope this doesn’t become one due to his incompetence. There was much at that investigation scene needing improvement. Maybe I should write the sheriff a note.”

  I looked over the top of my menu. “In case anyone’s interested, I’ll have a cheeseburger and strawberry malt.”