Father Knows Death Part 19

Her confidence grew as she got deeper into the song, her eyes focused somewhere out beyond the crowd, her free hand sweeping out in a grand gesture over the people, bringing a fairly sizable round of applause as she continued on.

And that's when I noticed the tears coming from her eyes.

As the lyrics tumbled out of her, it seemed pretty clear that she wasn't so much singing them as she was speaking them to someone else.

George Spellman.

She finished with a flourish and most of the audience rose to their feet, exploding with applause. Matilda wiped her eyes and handed the mic back to the MC, who was still encouraging the crowd to clap for her performance.

"Of all the things I've seen on this stage, that might've been the most surprising," Julianne said. "And touching."

I nodded in agreement as the applause finally started to die down. Not everyone in the audience was privy to the meaning behind the lyrics, but it was hard not to infer that the song meant something to Matilda. I could even hear Butch sniffling behind me.

As Matilda lumbered down the stairs from the stage, I noticed that her expression started to change. The sadness that had been draped all over her face was being slowly replaced by something else.

Anger. Or irritation. Or something along those lines.

And she was staring at Susan Blamunski, who was doing her best to return the stare.

"Wow," Julianne said, seeing what I was seeing. "Rawr, cat fight. Wonder what that's all about."

As Matilda reached the bottom stair, Susan met her there. They glared at one another and I couldn't be sure, but it looked as if Matilda b.u.mped her with her ma.s.sive hip as she pa.s.sed. Susan tossed her another angry look over her shoulder as she went up the stairs to the stage.

"Maybe she took her song," Julianne said.

I nodded and watched as Susan marched up to the karaoke machine. She placed her hands on her hips, made an impatient face at the MC, and waited for him to pull up whatever she was looking for. When it was up, she grabbed the mic from his hand and marched to the middle of the stage, her face still masked with anger.

The first few notes of the song pulsated through the speakers and Julianne dug her nails into my arm. "Oh my G.o.d. Duran Duran? I used to love them!"

It was indeed Duran Duran and Susan plunged into a ferocious version of "Hungry Like the Wolf," prancing and preening around the stage in a near maniacal manner. She clawed at the air. She bared her teeth. Her singing was okay, but she was selling the act and the audience was eating it up, including Julianne, who was standing and singing along, one hand cradling her stomach, the other raised in full fist-pump mode.

Carly just stared at her mother, wide-eyed with wonder.

As the song wound down, Susan planted herself in the middle of the stage. She made one more clawing gesture at the audience and thrust the microphone into the air, an evil-looking smile settling on her face as she stared out into the wildly cheering crowd.

I followed her gaze.

Matilda Biggs was at the other end of it. She stood near the bleachers, her arms folded across her ample body, shaking her head, before she turned and walked off.

37.

"It would've been awesome if they had just clawed each other's eyes out," Julianne said.

She was flat on her back in bed, her tank top pulled up to expose her enormous belly. I was next to her, my hand on the mountain, feeling for kicks or other signs that the progeny finally might want out.

"Susan doesn't seem the type to like Celine Dion," I said.

Julianne closed her eyes. "Maybe she's just into power ballads."

"Or maybe there was some sort of fair betting pool on who would win karaoke," I suggested.

"I totally would've partic.i.p.ated in that pool."

We dissolved into laughter again. We'd had a good night. We'd had fun together. Fun had been missing from the fair until that night and I was glad it was back. Yes, Julianne was hot and miserable and I was frustrated. But there was comfort in the fact that we could still go out to something goofy and ridiculous like Carriveau County Idol and have a good time.

"Carly said she wants to sing next year in the kids' division," Julianne said, staring at the ceiling.

"Ummm . . . no."

"Why not?"

"Because she can't sing."

"She's a kid."

"Which is exactly how most of those other yellers ended up there in the first place," I said. "They didn't have a parent up there to tell them no."

"Why would you tell her no?"

"Because she can't sing. She unfortunately inherited my singing talent. Which means she got none."

Julianne frowned. "Hmm. I told her we'd see."

"You heard the way everyone mocked the people who got up there and couldn't sing," I said, rubbing her stomach. "You heard the way we mocked them. Do you want people doing that to our daughter?"

"They wouldn't mock her."

"Oh, yes, they would."

She thought for a moment. "I would kill anyone who mocked my child."

"Well, then, you'd have a long list to get through."

She laughed and tried to turn into me, but her stomach made it impossible and she groaned. "Oh my G.o.d. I'm going to rip this thing out with my bare hands if I have to. I can't even hug you."

I pulled her as close as I could and kissed her forehead. "Soon. It'll happen soon. I can feel it."

"There's no baby in you. You can't feel anything."

"Maybe I'm just intuitive."

"Maybe you're just saying things to try and make me feel better."

"Maybe."

She smiled and closed her eyes. "Well, that's okay, I guess." She paused. "I wanted to hug Matilda. I felt badly for her."

"I know. It was sad."

"I think she really loved George. The way she sang that song."

"Seemed that way."

She tilted her head so it was on my shoulder. "You need to find out what happened to him. For her."

I laid my hand over my heart. "I think I'm having a heart attack."

She opened her eyes. "What?"

"Are you actually asking me to do some investigating?" I said, still clutching at my chest. "You want me to stay on a case?"

She smacked me in the stomach. "Stop. I'm serious. I really wanted to hug Matilda tonight. She needs closure. She needs to know what happened to the love of her life. So figure it out. For her."

I took her hand from my stomach and kissed it. "Okay. I will."

"But do not miss the birth of your child or someone will have to solve your murder."

"You've been making a lot of death threats lately."

She closed her eyes. "All the more reason to do what I say."

38.

Carly came into our room, yelling, "The parade's today! The parade's today!"

She was gone before I could groan at her about how early in the morning it was.

Julianne was still snoring softly, so I rolled myself out of bed and into the shower. I was downstairs twenty minutes later and Carly was already dressed and at the kitchen table.

"I'm excited," she said.

"Apparently so."

"You know I love the parade. And we get to march in it this year!"

"I'm aware."

"Aren't you excited, Daddy?"

I wasn't sure what I was. The forecast called for a temperature a degree or two over one hundred. I was already tired from a late night. Marching with the 4-H group in the parade in that kind of heat was not my idea of fun. But I knew she'd been looking forward to it for months.

"Yes, I'm excited," I said, sticking bread in the toaster for her and then pouring her a gla.s.s of milk.

The parade was the big finale for the fair. Yes, the rides on the midway stayed open until dusk, but the exhibit buildings would begin to empty, the vendors would begin folding up their tables, and the livestock owners would begin taking their animals home as soon as the parade ended.

Nearly every business in Rose Petal would have some sort of float, along with nearly every service organization within the county. Some would be as simple as a wagon with some marchers and some would be elaborate in their decoration. The 4-H one fell somewhere in between, having adopted the theme of "Come Grow With 4-H!" I hadn't seen it yet, but it had been described to me as an oversize garden on the back of a flatbed trailer.

The parade route was nearly a mile long, snaking down Main Street and finishing at the fairgrounds. The street would be lined with people on blankets and in lawn chairs, cheering and waving, as the marchers and float riders threw candy. A panel of judges would wait at the fire station, judging each float, working hard to determine who would win the hundred dollar check for that year, along with a small golden cup.

It was hokey, it was silly, and it was Rose Petal, but it was ingrained in the DNA of the town and I'd been in it or at it every year of my life, and I wanted Carly to have those same memories as she got older.

I just didn't want it to be so hot.

Julianne found her way downstairs just as the toast popped up and I was scrambling eggs in the skillet. She glared at me with sleepy eyes, blaming me-again-for the fact that coffee was off-limits as long as the baby was inside of her. I pacified her with juice, the eggs, and some toast of her own.

Carly mowed through her breakfast and scrambled upstairs to change into her costume, which consisted of something that made her look like a human corncob.

Julianne pushed her plate away. "I was thinking about last night."

"You want to pursue a singing career?"

"Hardly. I mean, about Matilda and Susan. That whole look thing that was going on."

I slid the dishes into the sink. "Yeah?"

"I wonder if it was about more than the song choices."

"Why?"

She rolled her eyes. "Because I'm a woman. Because the more I thought about it, the more it felt like a bigger thing."

I filled the skillet with water to let it sit and loosen the egg skin stuck to it. "Okay. What kind of thing?"

Julianne stared longingly at my cup of coffee, then forced herself to look away. "Maybe Susan knows about the land deal. Maybe she's p.i.s.sed about that. Or, maybe she's just blaming the entire Biggs family for s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up her precious 4-H food stand."

I nodded and scrubbed the plates. "That could make sense."

"I mean, you know what that woman is like," Julianne said, and, even though I couldn't see her, I knew she was making a distasteful face. "She doesn't need a reason to be a pain in the rear end or to decide she doesn't like someone."

I chuckled. "Tell me how you really feel."

"You know it's true, Deuce," she said. "No, I can't stand her, but she just loves to create drama like she's still in high school. Every time I see her, she makes a snide comment about me. She did it the other day. She doesn't need a reason. And the only reason I'm telling you this is because I really do want you to help Matilda."

I shut off the faucet and dried my hands. "Her singing last night really got to you."

Julianne hesitated. "It did. I know I'm a big hormonal mess, but I felt terrible for her. And if someone is picking on her or making her life tougher than it already is, well, then, I guess I just want you to help her in any way you can. And if finding out what happened to her boyfriend is something that would help her, then you should do it."