Death Rides a Pony, page 4
‘Banner?’ Summer echoed. ‘What kind of a banner?’
The smile broadened. ‘A big banner. Stretched across the whole front of the booth, just above the entrance. With glittery silver lettering. Madam Bailey, Fortune Teller.’
Hope and Summer stared at her.
‘You’re joking, right?’ Summer croaked after a moment. ‘Please say that you’re only joking.’
Megan was now grinning like the Cheshire cat. ‘Nope, not joking.’
‘But Gram wouldn’t make a banner like that.’ Hope frowned, puzzled. ‘She’d never call us fortune tellers – and certainly not with glitter. She knows the spiritual world wouldn’t approve.’
‘Forget the spiritual world!’ Summer wailed. ‘What if Gary – or one of his pals – sees the banner? I have another court hearing for the divorce next week. Madam Bailey makes it sound as though we’re running a brothel. What if Gary tells the judge?’
‘Maybe the judge will want to visit the brothel,’ Megan suggested drolly.
‘That isn’t the least bit funny,’ Summer snapped, her face florid.
Megan’s grin vanished, replaced by a chagrined look.
‘Don’t worry,’ Hope told her sister soothingly. ‘I doubt that Gary – or one of his pals – will see the banner. And even if they do, and Gary bellows it to all and sundry in the courtroom, no judge will seriously believe that we’re running a brothel. Honestly, Summer. It’s completely out of the realm of possibility.’
Summer appeared neither convinced nor comforted. Her cheeks were still ruddy, and a vein was visibly throbbing in her left temple.
‘I’ve probably exaggerated,’ Megan said, her tone apologetic. ‘The banner isn’t really that big. I’m sure it’s a lot smaller and less noticeable than I remember it. Take a look for yourselves. I’ll show you.’
Signaling for them to follow, Megan turned and started moving through the crowd, which seemed to have grown even denser than before. Hope and Summer headed after her. The booths were arranged in semi-circular rows that spread out like rolling waves from the carousel. At first glance, the sheer number was overwhelming. There were booths of all types and shapes and sizes, offering a vast array of products and services. Baked goods, handicrafts, local wine and beer tastings. The food booths suffered the most from the heat. The caramel on the taffy apples was puddling. The hard candies were sticking to their cellophane wrappers. The pottery, on the other hand, appeared to experience no ill effects. Having been kiln-fired, not even the infernal Carolina sun could touch it.
No money exchanged hands at the booths, only tickets. The tickets could be purchased at cashier stands that were dotted throughout the festival grounds. Every booth had a sign, indicating the number of tickets necessary for the redemption of its goods. Two tickets for a slice of watermelon, three for a slab of fudge, four for an ice cream cone with sprinkles, five for a ride on the carousel on the animal of your choice. It was a simple-to-understand system with no haggling or fumbling in pockets for loose coins. Parents could easily dispense a set number of tickets to children, and the booths didn’t have to bother with receipts or making change.
After a short distance, on the far side of the carousel but still among the first row of booths, Megan halted. Hope’s initial thought was that they were pausing because they had reached a small pocket of shade, but then she looked up and discovered that the shade was being cast by a banner. A big banner. Madam Bailey, Fortune Teller. Megan certainly hadn’t exaggerated its size or the glittery silver lettering. On the contrary, the banner was even larger and showier than Hope had anticipated.
‘Brothel,’ Summer muttered tetchily.
Hope sighed, and Megan gave her arm a sympathetic squeeze.
‘Always remember that it could be worse,’ Megan said. ‘You could be dressed as an evil queen in sparkly sequins. Speaking of which, I had better go back and check on Sean. Make sure that he hasn’t won the bet and passed out in a bowl of chocolate slurry. If you get a break or need an escape, come visit us. Amethyst’s booth is in this row, too, about halfway around the carousel, almost directly opposite. You can’t miss it. Just keep an eye out for the regal purple. The hotel and spa love their purple.’
Blowing them another air kiss, Megan turned and departed. Almost instantly, the petal-pink ball gown and tiara disappeared among the multitude.
A moment later, as though she’d had a premonition of their arrival, Gram stepped through the gap in the burgundy velvet curtains that formed the entrance to the booth.
‘Hello, my dears.’ She waved her cane in greeting. ‘I’m glad that you’re here.’
Summer responded with an unhappy gurgling noise.
Gram had no difficulty understanding her meaning. ‘Yes, I’m sorry about the banner. It wasn’t my doing.’ She turned to Hope with a conciliatory expression. ‘I know that it’s not ideal …’
Hope raised an eyebrow at her.
‘But I don’t think that it will cause any trouble,’ she went on. ‘Truly, I don’t. It’s all meant in good, clean fun. You’re not swindling anyone or deceiving them in any way. And every cent goes to charity. Surely that’s understood. Surely there could be no objection from the powers that be to an innocent little banner.’
The eyebrow remained raised.
Gram nodded. ‘Of course I agree with you. I would have preferred something else myself. A clear reference to the boutique might have helped to attract new customers. And none of this Madam nonsense. A picture of a crystal ball would have been best. That couldn’t have caused offense in any quarter.’
Hope sighed once more.
‘On the bright side,’ Gram continued cheerfully, ‘the banner is extremely eye-catching, which bodes well for ticket sales. The committee liked it so much that they set the booth’s ticket number at five. That’s the same as the carousel! Morris is quite proud. He’s inside right now. So are a few of the others. You must see what a splendid job they’ve all done.’
Using her cane to push the velvet curtains further apart, Gram returned the way she had come. Neither Hope nor Summer immediately followed her. They both remained on the threshold of the booth, as though waiting but not quite sure for what.
‘Hope’ – Summer’s voice quavered as she spoke – ‘you know how you said before that something about the Five of Coins didn’t feel right to you? That you thought it was pointing in another direction?’
Hope looked at her sister.
‘Well, I think it’s pointing here. I think something terrible is about to happen.’
FOUR
If Summer was right, and something terrible was indeed about to happen, it didn’t occur when they entered the booth. The interior of the booth looked nearly twice as large as the exterior. Burgundy velvet curtains decked each side, and twinkle lights glowed like bright little stars across the makeshift ceiling. In the center of the space, there was a small round table surrounded by several chairs, all of which were also draped in lush velvet. It was exactly as Megan had described: attractive and rather atmospheric. The booth was dark but not too dark. The ambiance was a touch spooky and a touch magical, just right for pretending to see all sorts of wonderful things in a crystal ball. Except there was no crystal ball in sight.
Gram immediately began an introduction of her remaining helper elves and what their respective roles had been in the booth’s decoration.
‘Jocelyn’ – she motioned toward a plump woman with a creased brow who was kneeling at the rear of the booth, folds of velvet spread across her lap – ‘has been our drapery expert. She chose the fabric, measured and cut it, and stitched it with perfect precision. She’s just finishing up the cords that will tie the back curtains to let a breath of air through. The front cords are already completed, which is how you came in.’
Jocelyn gave them a friendly nod in greeting, then immediately returned her focus to the needle and thread in her hand.
‘You can thank Amelia and Stanley for the lovely lighting,’ Gram continued.
Stanley was balanced on a ladder in the near corner, fastening the end of an electrical cable that had apparently come loose, with Amelia standing close by, presumably to steady the ladder if it wobbled while her husband was on it. The Palmers were a matched set. They were both in their mid-sixties, reed-thin, and wearing shirts in a similar shade of forest green, one slightly more faded than the other.
‘We went through all the options,’ Amelia told them. ‘Candles, lanterns, hurricane lamps, standing lamps, alternately blinking bulbs …’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Stanley confirmed from his perch. ‘All the options.’
Hope restrained a chuckle. Through Gram, she had encountered the Palmers on several previous occasions, and each time Amelia had been involved in the design of some project or plan, which Stanley was then expected to execute. The booth was evidently no exception. Gram may have credited Amelia with having an excellent eye for lighting and decor, but Stanley was the one who was required to actually install said lighting and decor.
‘The twinkle lights look great,’ Hope complimented them. ‘Really terrific—’
‘And the banner?’ Morris interjected eagerly.
Hope turned to him. In addition to being Gram’s long-time gentleman friend and co-chair of the festival committee this year, Morris Henshaw was a trusted family doctor whose office was located in another old brownstone not far from the boutique. Morris was tall and narrow, with an equally narrow, angular face topped by wispy white hair. He had a naturally solemn demeanor, and even now, when Hope could see the animated glint in his blue eyes, his overall expression was more grave than giddy.
‘Doesn’t the banner at the front of the booth look terrific, too?’ Morris said.
Gram shot her an entreating glance.
‘It certainly grabs one’s attention,’ Hope answered politely – and truthfully.
‘I couldn’t agree more.’ Morris nodded with a stiff, jerky motion. Although he was no longer wearing the back brace that he had donned immediately following his surgery, his upper body movements were still somewhat slow and awkward. ‘I wish that I could take the credit for it, but I can’t. The banner was entirely Larkin’s idea. She deserves all the praise.’
‘Larkin?’ Summer inquired.
‘My new receptionist. A charming girl. Bright as a button—’
Gram stopped him with a small cough.
‘Is that not right?’ Morris frowned. ‘I know you’ve told me before, but I keep forgetting. The job titles are constantly changing. When I first started out in my practice, everybody was either a nurse or a secretary. Now there are physician’s assistants and medical assistants and transcription assistants and billing assistants and—’
Another cough from Gram. ‘It’s fine to say that Larkin is your new receptionist, but you can’t call her a girl.’
‘I can’t? Why not?’ Morris protested. ‘I’m nearly seventy, and she’s barely twenty. That makes me an old man and her a girl.’
‘Don’t talk rubbish, dear. You are not an old man, and you are employing her in a professional capacity so she is not a girl.’
‘Well, yes, I see your point, but—’
Gram didn’t let him finish. ‘How is your back feeling today? It’s not hurting too badly, is it?’
‘No more than usual. Much less than it would be if I didn’t have Summer’s splendid tea. Between their tinctures and readings, the girls do a marvelous job at the boutique.’
The glint in Morris’s eye had turned decidedly mischievous. Hope couldn’t help smiling. Neither could Gram, although she shook her head at him in reproach.
‘You’re being ornery on purpose. And it won’t matter how marvelous the boutique might be if the crystal ball doesn’t arrive soon.’ Gram checked her watch. ‘The festival will be opening in just a few minutes, and Summer can’t take people’s tickets if Hope doesn’t have anything to gaze into.’
Morris checked his watch, too. ‘Larkin has the crystal ball. She promised to bring it to the booth.’
Summer raised an eyebrow. ‘So Larkin is the one responsible for the banner and the crystal ball?’
‘Yes. She’s very helpful, isn’t she?’
‘She certainly is. When I meet her, I’ll be sure to express my gratitude.’
Summer’s voice dripped with sarcasm, and this time Gram’s reproachful shake of the head was directed at her. Morris didn’t seem to notice.
‘Larkin was supposed to confirm the patient appointments for next week and then close up the office.’ Morris checked his watch again, tapping its face as though it might not be functioning correctly. ‘Those tasks couldn’t possibly take this long. I don’t know what’s keeping her.’
‘It’s awfully crowded out there on the grounds,’ Hope told him. ‘She might be having a difficult time getting through.’
‘But she can’t be having a difficult time finding the booth with that banner of hers,’ Summer said, with only slightly less sarcasm than before.
Morris’s frown resurfaced. He appeared puzzled by Summer’s tone. Gram looked anxiously from one to the other. In an effort to keep the peace, Hope changed the subject.
‘While we’re waiting, Gram, there’s something that I should mention to you. Rosemarie Potter has a new boyfriend. She brought him to the boutique two days ago, and she told us that he was also going to accompany her – and Percy – to the festival tonight.’
The anxious look faded. ‘Oh, how nice. Good for Rosemarie!’
‘Except it’s not nice, because the man isn’t nice. Nor do I think that he’s good for Rosemarie. But that’s beside the point. They will in all likelihood come to the booth, so I wanted to give you a heads-up in case you run into them either this evening or some other time over the weekend. The boyfriend is a real estate agent, and he may have his sights set on trying to sell the brownstone.’
‘Sell the brownstone?’ Gram exclaimed. ‘Merciful heaven, we couldn’t possibly do that!’
Hope nodded in agreement.
‘Can you imagine what would happen if … The mere idea of …’ Gram was aghast. ‘It’s absolutely out of the question. I have not the slightest intention.’ She dropped her voice abruptly. ‘We shouldn’t even be discussing it.’
Hope nodded some more. ‘That’s why I’m warning you. He’s a pushy sort.’
‘Very pushy,’ Summer chimed in.
‘I’m not sure that a simple rejection will dissuade him,’ Hope went on. ‘There’s a good chance that he’ll get aggressive, so you need to be prepared.’
As the anxious look redoubled, Gram leaned heavily on her cane. Morris came over and wrapped a supportive arm around her waist.
‘There’s no reason to worry, Olivia,’ he said reassuringly. ‘Of course you don’t want to sell the brownstone – not with the boutique there, and it being Hope and Summer’s home. No one can force you to put the property on the market against your will. Should this real estate fellow decide to get pushy, then we’ll get pushy right back. Some salesmen get so used to treading all over people that after a while they need a proper reminder about who’s who and what’s what.’
Gram gave him a grateful smile. ‘Thank you, Morris.’
Summer shook her head doubtfully. ‘It might not be so easy with him. He isn’t your average salesman. Davis Scott is—’
‘Davis Scott!’ Amelia cried.
There was a cry from Jocelyn as well. Stanley also gave a shout as the ladder wobbled beneath him, and he began to tumble off it. He crashed down two steps and started to tip over the side rails, before clutching furiously at the top cap to stop his further descent.
Amelia – who had plainly lapsed in her duty to hold the ladder steady in precisely such a situation – dashed toward him, flushed and panicked. ‘Stanley! Are you hurt, Stanley? Do you need help?’
‘Don’t fuss, Amelia. I’m fine.’ Although his words were calm, his hands and feet were not. With trembling fingers and unsteady steps, Stanley climbed slowly down the remainder of the ladder until he reached the safety of firm ground. ‘I just banged my knee and shin. Nothing too serious. I’ll survive.’ He rubbed his bruised spots with a wince.
His wife gave an audible sigh of relief.
‘I lost my balance,’ Stanley went on in complaint, rubbing and wincing some more. ‘It was all that yelling from you and Jocelyn.’
In unison, the group turned to check on Jocelyn, who was still at the rear of the booth under folds of velvet. Similar to Amelia, Jocelyn’s face was flushed. For a moment, it also appeared that her hands were trembling like Stanley’s, but it was difficult to tell for certain, because she held up an index finger with a scarlet streak of blood for them to see, then quickly grabbed a spare scrap of fabric that was lying by her side and wrapped it around the wound as an impromptu bandage.
‘I’m sorry if I startled you,’ Jocelyn apologized. ‘My attention wandered off for a second, and the needle slipped. I stitched myself instead of the cords. It happens more often than I’d like to admit. But no permanent damage done – to any of us, thankfully. I’m all right, too.’
Except she didn’t look all right. Her flushed face was almost as burgundy as the velvet, and her creased brow was thickly dotted with perspiration.
‘You’re overheated,’ Hope said with concern. ‘You need to get out from under those curtains and have a cool drink and a breath of air.’
‘A fan!’ Morris exclaimed. ‘That’s what we need. I should have brought one in earlier. I’ll be back in a jiffy.’
As Morris hurried out of the front of the booth, Hope hurried to the back to free Jocelyn from the mounds of fabric.
‘No, no. I’m all right,’ Jocelyn reiterated. ‘I should finish the cords.’
Hope brooked no opposition. ‘The cords can wait – or remain the way they are. The curtains are gorgeous, but you’ve done more than enough. No draperies are worth heat exhaustion and a trip to the emergency room.’
