If Catfish Had Nine Lives(8)

            “Thank you,” she said as she smiled briefly at him. She took a drink and then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She was still breathing a little faster than normal, but I wasn’t as alarmed as I’d been a moment earlier. She turned to Esther. “Thank you, too. I’m sorry.”

            “Not a problem. I’m just glad that you’re going to be okay.”

            Vivienne looked at each of us, one at a time. Gram answered the unspoken questions.

            “I’m Missouri Anna Winston. This is my granddaughter, Betts Winston. And we’re all in Stuart’s shoe repair shop.” She smiled at Stuart, who looked relieved that all damsels were most likely going to recover.

            “Nice to meet you all. Thank you again. I’m okay, really, but can any of you tell me what happened out there?”

            I had no idea, and Gram didn’t go into detail.

            “The skit was being performed in the street,” Esther began. “It was about a woman who’d cheated on her husband.”

            I’d watched the short skit a number of times in rehearsal. I would have recognized the actors—one in particular. One of Cliff’s cousins had been given the role of the disloyal wife, and it had been fun to see her again, since her last visit to Broken Rope had been when Cliff and I were still in high school. Jake had scrambled for April actors. Most of Broken Rope’s thespians somehow managed to take summers off from their real jobs so they could volunteer to entertain the tourists. But most of them couldn’t make themselves available in April to help with the convention. I knew Jake had brought in some actors from Kansas City and St. Louis, but he’d still put a call out for more. Cliff’s cousin Jezzie had already planned on visiting, and she thought it would be easy and fun to participate in a skit or two, so she volunteered.

            I still hadn’t heard who exactly had been killed. A cold string of dread suddenly ran through my gut, and I couldn’t help but interrupt. “Who was killed? Man or woman? Tell me the details.”

            Gram blinked but seemed to understand my sudden need to know.

            “Oh, she’s fine, Betts,” she said. “I’m afraid it was one of our visiting actors. I didn’t know him, and I haven’t heard his name, but he was playing the part of the good guy.”

            “Norman?” I said. “I think his name was Norman.” I hadn’t known him, either, but I’d met him, and we’d shared a little small talk.

            Gram’s mouth pinched tight as she shrugged.

            “It was horrible, but it also seemed to be a part of the skit—you know, a gunfight and everything—until it got awful and real,” Esther said.

            “The person who was killed was definitely named Norman,” Vivienne said. “I met him last night at the campsite.”

            “I did, too,” Esther said, “but I didn’t talk to him all that much. Did you talk to him?”

            “Not really.”

            “Was he shot during the skit?” I asked as I removed the straw hat that I’d forgotten about and that suddenly made me feel claustrophobic. I placed it on Stuart’s front counter and wiped a few stray hairs off my forehead.

            “Yes,” Vivienne said. “It was confusing, because he was shot by the bad guy at the same time. We were all laughing because it was kind of a funny skit and then the bad guy pulled out his gun and fired it. It . . . I don’t know, did it sound funny?” Vivienne asked Esther.

            “Yes.” Esther nodded. “It boomed, but from somewhere that didn’t seem like the same spot where the bad guy was standing. Like behind us or something,” Esther said.