I managed a hurried dinner with Michael and the boys and then it was back to dashing up and down the fair, making sure the judges had their forms and their packets of ribbons, nagging them to turn in the names of the winners, reassuring people that there had been no new pranks, and occasionally catching a few moments of a performance or a competition. Knitting, crochet, and embroidery. Pigeons. Sheep-shearing. Barrel races. Hog-calling. The sheer number of events was overwhelming—thank goodness I’d recruited a senior volunteer to wrangle each event space, instead of running them all myself, as I’d originally planned.
At 6:00 P.M., the agricultural part of the fair grew quiet, but by that time the Midway was in full swing, the country singer was giving her first concert, and the first round of a small (but American Kennel Club–approved) dog show was underway. Michael took the boys to the dog show for the first hour, and I managed to join them just before it was time to whisk the boys away to bed—in Rose Noire’s tent, since the sheep barn was too close to the tantalizing noise of the Midway.
I breathed a sigh of relief when the country music and canine fans filed out the front gate, except for a few who sauntered over to enjoy the last hour of the Midway.
“Next year we need to find a way to close off the rest of the fair while the Midway is open,” I told Randall when I ran into him backstage after the concert. I was making sure all the tech sheds and dressing rooms were locked and he, presumably, was waiting to escort the singer back to the Caerphilly Inn.
“Put it in your notebook for the postmortem,” he said. “And can you also make a note that next year we need to find a main act who’s not a total … diva?”
I glanced a little anxiously at the door of the largest dressing room, in which I had assumed the country singer was still changing. It wasn’t a particularly thick door, nor were the walls all that soundproof.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Randall said. “She’s gone. You can lock that one up, too.”
“I thought you were chauffeuring her.” I found the right key and secured the dressing room, which was actually a refurbished vintage fifties Airstream trailer.
“She liked the looks of Rob better,” Randall said. “So he gets to show her the town nightlife and I get my beauty sleep.”
“Caerphilly has nightlife?” I said. “Who knew? Clearly Michael and I are becoming old fogies.”
“I didn’t think any of the student hangouts would suit,” he said. “So I recommended that he take her to the bar at the Caerphilly Inn. More convenient.”
“Convenient?”
“I figure another drink and she’ll pass out, and he can get a bellhop to help him heave her into bed,” Randall said. “If you thought I meant something salacious, don’t worry. Unless his eyesight has deteriorated considerably of late, I think his virtue is safe. He’s doing this purely to help me out, and if you see him before I do, tell him I appreciate it.”
“Will do. See you tomorrow.”
Randall nodded and ambled off.
I continued my rounds, making sure all the buildings were locked, and that the early shift patrols were showing up at their posts. Until the Midway closed, they were keeping a close eye on the path that led from it through the main body of the fair to the gate. By ten o’clock, everything was as secure as we could make it.
The bad news was that instead of curling up in my sleeping bag for a well-earned rest I’d be spending the next four hours on patrol. The good news was that since I was in charge of the patrols, I’d assigned Michael to be my partner, so we’d get to spend a little time together—something that hadn’t happened much of late, thanks to all the preparation for the fair.
And our beat was the Midway, which was open till eleven tonight, so we’d at least have a few distractions to help keep us awake during the first hour of our patrol.
Chapter 16
“What about the boys?” Michael asked, when I rounded him up to start our shift. “Is Rose Noire okay with them staying at her tent?”
“She’s fine with it,” I said. “And if we like, we’re invited to join her for breakfast. Organic oatmeal and freshly blended fruit smoothies.”
“Good luck to her,” Michael said. “Last time I heard they were demanding pepperoni pizza and chocolate ice cream for breakfast.”
We checked that we had our flashlights and cell phones and strolled over to the Midway. It was at the same end of the fair as the cow barns, but across the split-rail fence that ran along the border between Caerphilly and Clay counties.
I had to wonder about that fence. It hadn’t been erected just for the fair—it was an established fence, well weathered except for occasional spots where someone had patched breaks with newer timbers. Most local farmers found plain barbed wire fences sufficient. Was there some agricultural reason for the more elaborate fence here, or was it symptomatic of the longstanding distrust between the denizens of the two counties?