“So I’m askin’ agin,” he said, “who’s lookin’ fer Farel Teal?”
“How do you do, Ben?” She extended her hand toward him. “I’m Carrie, and I’m lookin’...looking for Farel Teal because his cousin Tracy and her husband, mother-in-law, and daughter are needed over in the dining room. They’re performing at a banquet there tonight and were supposed to arrive some time ago, but no one has seen them. I thought Mr. Teal might know where they are.”
Ben didn’t seem to see her extended hand. He snorted, spraying moisture, and Carrie jerked backwards.
The man didn’t act like he noticed that either. “Chase ’n’ Tracy ’n’ Aunt Brigid are around here somewheres. I seen ’em earlier, but like I said, Farel ain’t. They was lookin’ fer him too. I told ’em what I’m tellin’ you, Farel ain’t here.
“’N’ you’re sniffin’ the wrong trail ’bout Farel knowin’ where his cousin is all the time. Tracy and him may have growed up playin’ together like two pigs in a pen, but there’s been no playin’ and no love lost neither since she married Mason.
“He’s a bad ’un,” Ben concluded, dropping his voice to a raspy gurgle.
“Oh,” Carrie said, wondering which of the two men, Chase Mason or Farel Teal, was supposed to be bad. Her backbone was tingling again, but she didn’t have time to ask this odd little man about who was bad and who wasn’t.
“Well, Ben, I just know I’m supposed to find the performers for the Department of Parks and Tourism banquet, and,” she looked at her watch, “I have twenty minutes to do it. Did you say you’d seen the Masons?”
“Yup, ’bout fifteen minutes ago. Don’t know where they was headed after they left the auditorium though. They seemed mighty anxious to find Farel themselves. He’s peculiar popular all of a sudden.”
He fell silent but looked thoughtful, and Carrie wondered if he was deciding to tell her something that might help.
She waited, shifting her weight back and forth to relieve her complaining toes.
But, after a pause, the man just repeated, “Sorry, can’t he’p you,” and turned away, taking a key from his vest pocket. He unlocked the auditorium door and, without looking at her again, slipped inside. The door shut firmly behind him.
Well, then, that was that. Maybe the Masons had gone to the dining room some other way. She hoped so, because she had no idea what to do next.
Carrie retraced her path through the craft area toward the back door of the administration building. She’d started to pull the door open when a shouted “
no
” came through the small crack. What on earth? Was someone saying she couldn’t come through this building now?
She was about to open the door farther to see who had shouted at her, but the hidden voice went on, obviously not speaking to her at all.
She stopped where she was, trying to decide what to do next, holding the heavy door open just enough so she could hear what was being said. If it was a private conversation, maybe she should knock or say hello before she went in.
A woman was talking. She wasn’t crying, but Carrie could hear tears behind her words.
“No! He won’t hurt her, Chase.” A pause. “He loves her! I know him, and if we raise a fuss it’ll only make things worse. He’ll get stubborn and up the ante. Don’t you see, if we just pay, he’ll bring her right back. All he really wants is money. He’d never harm Dulcey.”
A man’s voice now, shaking, furious. “Oh, sure you know him, Tracy, you
know
him all right. But how do you know he’s not on drugs? Does he still drink too much? And Dulcey is supposed to perform with us tonight. How’re we gonna explain her being gone? I’m heading for his house right this minute. Y’all can go ahead and start the program without me. It’s pretty obvious you don’t give a...”
“
No
.”
The woman screamed the word.
A lower, older woman’s voice broke in, spreading like molasses over the echoing “No.”
“Well, son, you know these folks are paying you to perform, so that’s exactly what you’re goin’ to do. You’ll fulfill your contract. Besides, Tracy’s right, Farel’ll be good to Dulcey, ’n’ she’s always enjoyed being with him.”
Silence. Carrie shoved her knee against the crack in the door to help hold its weight. If she let the door shut now, they’d notice the click.
The male voice came again, and this time it was almost a whine. “Well, is this what you want us to do? You want us to sit and smile at the audience and say, ‘Sorry, our daughter’s been kidnapped by her mother’s crook of a cousin and he wants a huge sum of money, so that’s why our little star, Dulcey Mason, isn’t with us tonight. We’re so sorry.’ Trace, you know he hates me. And it was your fault for letting her go out in Momma’s yard alone. Anyone could have kidnapped her.”
“Chase, Chase.” It was the younger woman’s voice, still sounding of tears...pleading. “It isn’t really like kidnapping, and what else can we do? Farel’s good with Dulcey; you know she’s safe. Let’s just pay him and get it over with. It’s not that much money, not for us now. All we have to do is pay and he’ll bring her back. He’s desperate to have money to start over with. I told you, but you wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t loan him the money, and that’s why he did this.”
“Oh-h-h no, Trace, you can’t fly that rooster in my coop! And, if ol’ cousin Farel is so great, why’s he want to leave the state in such a hurry anyway? Why the threats? On the phone he said if we didn’t pay the ransom he’d take Dulcey far away. That sounds like a threat to me.”
“He didn’t mean it. For heaven’s sake, Chase, go ahead and pay him. We don’t want any police or publicity. You know that wouldn’t be good for us, so what else is there to do?”
“Of course you’re taking the side of your scummy relatives.”
There was a gasp, then the older woman’s voice.
“Now, now, son, there’s no call for that. Of course it’s worrisome, but we have a show to do and we’re gonna do it. Let’s go, we’re mighty late already. We’ll say Dulcey has a cold and we had to find a sitter. Come on. I don’t see what else to do fer now. Besides, I bet Dulcey’s having fun with Uncle Farel. She’s purty independent, ’n’ used to bein’ with other folks when you two’s out on the road.”
Carrie heard movement and the scrape of a chair. She pulled back hurriedly, letting the door click shut, then opened it wide and stepped into the hall, releasing the door so it would slam behind her.
There was light coming from the room on the right. A man looked out. Chase Mason. She recognized him, of course.
“Well, h-hello there,” Carrie said, thinking her voice sounded much too loud in the empty building. She swallowed, wondering if her halting words would give her away as an eavesdropper. But then, they were probably used to people being overwhelmed by their fame and would think that’s what was causing her discomfort. She cleared her throat, spread her lips in a smile, and continued more steadily, “I’m your escort. The convention banquet is about to start. Shall we go eat?”
Silence.
For a moment, Chase Mason stared at Carrie as if she were some threatening being that had suddenly materialized out of the air. Then his look of suspicion faded, his head jerked in a nod, and he turned back to the lighted room. Following him, Carrie saw that all three performers were picking up instrument cases, but still, no one said even a small “hello.”
Well, somebody should say something!
“I’m Carrie McCrite, and I work for the Arkansas Department of Parks and Tourism. I’m your escort this evening—I guess I said that, didn’t I? We’re so glad you’re going to play for us tonight. It’s quite an honor.”
She knew she must seem like a babbling fool, but why wouldn’t they say anything?
Finally Aunt Brigid Mason spoke, sounding as if she had just awakened and remembered what was expected in moments like this. “Pleased to meet you, Miz McCrite.”
“Ah, uh, we’re certainly looking forward to hearing you play.”
Silence.
Carrie tried again. “Isn’t Dulcey going to be here?”
Three voices spoke together: “Sick.” “She has a cold.” And, the friendliest: “Oh, we’re so sorry, the little one has a slight cold, and we thought it best to leave her at home with a babysitter. We’re a bit late on account of it.”
That was Aunt Brigid Mason, of course, and after Carrie had murmured sympathy, the silence returned.
Carrie was leading the way into the main hall when Tracy said, almost whispering, “Y’all go on, I’m gonna stop in the restroom here. I’ll catch up to you.”
Chase turned toward Tracy and reached out as if to grab her arm, but she was already headed down the side hall. He glanced at Carrie, shrugged, and said, “Okay.”
Carrie started toward the front door again, and as she walked, she heard the snick of a latch as a door clicked shut. Odd. Carrie was familiar with public restrooms in almost any building where she’d spent much time, and she knew, without thinking about it, that the public restrooms here had doors with automatic closers that went shut with a shush and a soft thunk. Wherever Tracy had gone, it wasn’t to the restroom, but why the lie?
She shook the question aside and, as she pushed through the front doors of the building, thought once more about the woman in the woods. She decided that, somehow, the Masons should be told about the eerie message. Hearing about a kidnapped child twice in one day was just too much coincidence. Everyone could be talking about the same child. But how would she bring the subject up without admitting she’d overheard some of their conversation?
“We’ll be sorry to have missed seeing Dulcey.”
No response.
“I’ll bet she enjoys playing with you.”
A murmured, “Yes,” from Chase, but nothing more.
Carrie pursed her lips in frustration. What now? The strange warnings came too close to the reality of what she had just overheard to be completely dismissed as the product of a fertile or twisted imagination. That woman might really know something about the kidnapping of Dulcey Mason.
It would have been easy to bring the forest encounter into almost any type of conversation. Since the Masons were native to the area, quizzing them about odd folk lore and a kidnapper called a gowerow would fit right in.
But neither Chase nor his mother offered an opportunity for any conversation at all, let alone questions about a spooky woman who spoke of kidnapping. They remained silent to the point of rudeness.
If only Henry were here right this moment. Then there’d be someone to share this with and another head to think about what to do next.
It had sounded like Tracy and Aunt Brigid thought Dulcey was quite safe—even having a good time, sort of a kidnapping game—but as far as Carrie was concerned, that was carrying fun and games too far. Chase was the only one who had seemed worried, and he was doing a good job of concealing his feelings now.
Oh, well, phooey on them. The Masons probably had so much money that they could pay the ransom without pain, and the public would never know about the abduction of a famous child.
She told herself to forget the whole thing. None of her business. But her spine was still tingling and her mind buzzing with concern as she led the Masons into the dining room.
A breathless Tracy caught up with them just as the convention director was finishing his speech, and after he had acknowledged polite applause, Carrie ushered the three to their seats, whispered their explanation for tardiness in the director’s ear, then went to her own chair.
She had taken a bite of her salad before Beth, who was staring at her with what looked like awe, could murmur, “Where were they? Was something wrong?”
After repeating the public explanation for the performers’ lateness and acknowledging Beth’s thanks with what she hoped was a casual smile, Carrie turned her attention to the food in front of her. She had no difficulty appreciating the meal in spite of the fact that her thoughts were picking through the odd events of the afternoon and evening, and she was trying to sort out what to do next.
Maybe it was none of her business but, after all, she
had
been the one to encounter the woman in the forest and, what’s more, that woman had chosen to communicate a message to her. Didn’t some responsibility go with that?
Even if she had to admit to the Masons that she’d heard just a teeny bit of their conversation, she really should tell them what the woman had said. By the time her plate was empty she’d worked out a way to do it. After the performance she’d continue pretending to be their hostess and leave with them to escort them to...where? They knew this area a lot better than she did.
Well, she’d fake it. She was very good at faking things, as she knew Henry would affirm, without meaning his affirmation as a compliment. Whatever. She was good at acting. She’d just walk out with them and say something like: “By the way, I was in the woods this afternoon and I saw an unusual woman. I wonder if, being native to this area, you might understand what she was talking about...”
A waitress took away her dinner plate and put down a fat piece of huckleberry pie with sugary purple juice oozing out each side. Oh, my! She was beginning to feel stuffed, but she took a few bites of pie anyway and went back to thoughts about the missing child.
Finally she looked up to see Beth glaring at her and realized she’d been responding to her friend’s attempts at conversation almost like the Masons had responded to hers a few minutes earlier.
She reached over to squeeze Beth’s hand. “Sorry, my thoughts have been a million miles away.”
“Well, I can sure tell
that
,” Beth said, “and I was wondering if Henry had called and said he couldn’t come tomorrow.”
Carrie laughed. “Goodness, no. I’m making plans for using some of the new ideas we’ve heard this week. Sorry, guess I can’t stop thinking about my tourists. I was also thinking I should try and pick more huckleberries next summer and freeze them to make pies.”
These were explanations Beth could understand, and she smiled at Carrie, displaying teeth that were stained purple with berry juice. Then she nodded and returned to her piece of pie, leaving Carrie to feel only slightly guilty about telling such outrageous lies—though Beth would probably remember any minute that Carrie was no cook and never made pies. Oh, well. She would explain everything later, when all this was over and the child was safely home.