Father Knows Death Part 17

"I'm not at liberty to discuss," I said.

"Please," he said, making a face. "You aren't a lawyer. You're a detective."

"Sort of," Tom said, grinning. "I still think of you as unemployed. I like it better that way."

I rolled my eyes. Some myths refused to die and the story that I simply couldn't find a job was a Rose Petal myth that would probably follow me forever. I knew he was kidding, but they all knew it drove me nuts.

"You can tell us," Raphael said. "We won't tell anyone."

"Except your wives, who will then spread it all over town like the flu," I said.

They all looked at one another.

"Excellent point," Brandon said. "You probably shouldn't tell us anything."

Mark leaned across the table. "They were totally doing it, weren't they?"

"Thanks for the image," Paul said, shutting his eyes, no doubt trying to erase said image from his mind.

"I'm not saying anything," I said, smiling at Mark. "Nada."

"You are no fun," he said, frowning. "The rest of us go to our c.r.a.ppy jobs every day, sit at the desk, staring at our computers. But you? You get to go eavesdrop and stalk people and do detective stuff."

Tom nodded. "It's true. We do live a little vicariously through you."

I looked at the useless cards in my hand and tossed them on the table, folding. "Then how about if you repay me with some decent cards?"

He pretended to think for a moment. "Never mind. I don't need to live vicariously through you. I'd rather have your money. Or, sorry, your wife's money."

That brought more than a few hoots and hollers and I stood to grab some more food that would contribute to my early death.

"You guys settle on a name for the baby?" Raphael asked.

"No," I said quickly. "Not yet."

Brandon glanced at me. "Why not? It's gonna be like any minute."

I shrugged, filling my plate with nachos and cookies.

"Yeah, why not?" Tom asked, smiling.

"Just haven't settled on one yet."

"Oh, that's weird," Paul said, staring at his cards. "I heard it was because you don't get a say in the matter."

The rest of them burst into laughs.

I chucked a cookie at the back of Paul's head. "Very funny."

"Julianne told Lynn," he said, still giggling. "Can't believe you don't get to name your own kid."

"Oh, shut up."

"But I guess that's the trade-off for getting to stay home," he said. "She pays the bills. She gets full naming rights."

All of them were giggling like third graders.

"Maybe you could get a cat," Tom suggested. "Maybe she'd let you name that."

The giggles turned to outright laughter.

"What about a fish?" Jeff asked.

"A hamster?" Mark offered.

"A bunny," Raphael said.

"A snake," Brandon said.

"I hate all of you," I said, throwing all of my chips at them.

But I didn't hate them at all. I appreciated the fact that, for one night every month, they would be there to pull me away from any c.r.a.p I might be dealing with. And for the rest of the night, I didn't give a single thought to Mama or Matilda or George Spellman.

I just continued to lose money.

34.

"You two better have something good for me," Mama Biggs said from her golf cart in front of the fair offices the next afternoon. "Because I've got a singing compet.i.tion to run this evening and it doesn't just run itself."

I'd gotten home in the middle of the night, slept in late and enjoyed a lazy day around the house with Julianne and Carly. No baby yet, but everyone seemed to appreciate the quiet day at home before heading back to the fairgrounds.

Victor and I had driven over to the fairgrounds together, the girls to follow later on. He and I went through our conversation with Corey Stewart one more time. Everything pointed right at the person who had the most to gain from the deal, and the most to lose if the information about selling the fairgrounds got out.

"George Spellman knew about your deal with Taitano Resources," I said.

Mama Biggs was good. She caught herself before she could snap her face toward me, surprised.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, looking in my direction, but not exactly at me.

"We know you're leasing the fairgrounds," I said. "We know George came to you after seeing their rep on the fairgrounds. And I'm pretty sure you're looking at buying another parcel of land to move the fair to for the next couple of years. Which might all be legal and on the up and up, but it will anger a boatload of people here in Rose Petal. So you're waiting until after the fair to do it all quietly, when everyone is burnt out on fair news."

Mama stared at me and then at Victor, then moved her eyes back to me. "You're talking crazy."

"Look, lady," Victor said. "We know what we know. And right now, nothing looks good. You hired us to look into George Spellman's death, right? Well, as of right this second, everything points at you."

"At me?" she squawked, anger filling the lines in her forehead. "Me?"

We both nodded.

"So you two nitwits think I hired you both to look into a murder that I committed?" She rolled her eyes. "I think we got a pair of donkeys over in the barn that could've done better and come a lot cheaper."

She had a point about hiring us if she were the culprit, but she still owed us some answers. "First things first. Do you own these fairgrounds?"

She shifted in the golf cart, ripped the walkie-talkie off her belt, and twisted a dial on it. She set it on the seat next to her. "Fairgrounds are owned by my family, yes."

"The county doesn't own them?"

"Not for about twenty-five years," she answered, raising an eyebrow at me. "My daddy struck a deal back before Rose Petal was Rose Petal. He owned this land. Actually, he owned most of Rose Petal. But he sold most of it off and then managed to gamble all the proceeds away." She shook her head. "My mama and he used to really go at it."

The walkie-talkie crackled and she picked it up and turned another k.n.o.b on it, laying it back down.

"Anyway, he held onto this land, for some reason," she continued. "But when the county incorporated in the fifties, they wanted a public use land. They wanted this spot. But Daddy owned it. So they worked out a deal." She smiled. "Daddy may have been a degenerate, but he was no dummy."

Victor sighed, his patience waning.

"He gave them the land for a small fee," she said. "The town didn't have much money back then and he did want to help it grow. So he basically gave it to them for nothing. He took a small cut of the fair revenue and of anything else that was held here. But the term was limited."

"Limited?" I asked.

She nodded, her tight gray curls bobbing up and down. "Yes, sir. Limited. Their ownership was more like a long-term rental. It was the county's to use for forty years. When that agreement expired, the land reverted back to my family. My daddy and my mama were gone by then. So it came back to me."

That sounded like it was probably true. A lot of Texas towns were started with handshake land agreements that eventually expired. A lot of them became public when they expired. But not all of them, apparently.

"So when it came back to me, I didn't make a big deal about it," she said, shrugging. "I didn't see the need to put the family name on the fairgrounds. It's still used by the county for everything it always was." A crooked smile formed on her face. "Revenue just goes to a different bank account."

"And now you're selling the land?" I asked.

"I'm not selling nothing," she said, narrowing her eyes at me.

"Leasing," Victor said, adjusting his hat.

Her hands clutched the steering wheel of the cart. "I suppose everyone's gonna find out soon enough. Yeah. I'm leasing it."

"To Taitano Resources," I said.

"They've offered me a small mint," she said, still smiling. "And I will still own the land when they are done with it."

"And you're going to buy the land up near Denton to move the fair to?" I asked.

The smile faded and she studied me. "I'm guessin' that daddy of yours is still tied to the bank and those bankers have big ol' mouths."

"Yes or no?"

She grabbed the walkie-talkie and set it in her lap. "You may be thinking some awful things about me right now, but you better know one thing. I wouldn't up and ditch the fair. It's been a part of my family for as long as I can remember. I know how important it is to the community and I would never do anything to harm it."

I glanced at Victor. His tiny arms were folded across his chest and he looked bored.

"So, yes, I am looking to move the fair," she said. "It's all in place. That new land is better plumbed, has better access, and can accommodate more exhibitors. It will actually be a better place to house the fair."

"It'll hurt Rose Petal," I said. "Local vendors and retailers will lose out on money that comes from people all over the county and the region."

"You don't think I know that?" she said sharply. "I'm well aware of that, Mr. Winters. I'll be doing what I can to accommodate them."

"How?"

"I don't know exactly and that's not your concern. But I will be taking care of the people here in Rose Petal. If I didn't, my daddy might up and rise out of his grave to tan my hide."

We stood there for a long minute. I was unsure what to say. I looked around and couldn't believe that everything was just going to be moved to a different place.

"Let's get back to the dead guy," Victor said. "He figured out what was going on, but you told him to shut up about it. Why?"

"Because it wasn't none of his danged business," she snapped. "And the paperwork wasn't all signed yet."

"When were you planning to tell everyone about the deal?" I asked.

"After the fair."

I thought back to Butch Dieter's questions at the board meeting and it clicked into place. "You were softening the blow."

She looked at me, annoyed. "Excuse me?"

"You were softening the blow," I said. "You were tweaking a few things this year. So you could spin it."

"What the heck are you talking about?" she asked.

Victor looked at me, too.

"The things that you've changed this year," I said. "You mentioned them at the meeting the other night. No demolition derby. The Ferris wheel has been broken. The horrific band." I paused. "You sabotaged this year's fair. You made sure there would be a few things wrong so that you'd have some justification for moving when you announce the move."

Mama's face reddened.

"And killing a guy in the 4-H food stand to kill off the sales would give you even more justification," I said.

Mama pushed herself out of the cart, put her hands on her hips, and leaned closer to me.

"Listen here, Mr. Winters," she said, her mouth coiling up into a snarl. "I did not kill anyone. You wanna come after me for doing what I'm doing with my own land, fine. You wanna argue about where the fair's gonna be, fine. You wanna moan about the fact that you can't ride on the Ferris wheel, fine." She leaned in closer, so our noses were almost touching. "But I did not kill George Spellman. And you are an idiot for even considering it."

"I don't think it's that much of a leap to . . . ," I said.

"And I was well aware that my dimwit daughter was in love with George," she said, her mouth in full snarl now. "And no matter what I thought of that train wreck, I would not have killed the only man that has ever shown Matilda the least bit of kindness."

"So you knew," I said.