“What about the vicuñas and guanacos?” I asked. “Don’t the other camelids deserve a mention?”
“We don’t have any vicuñas or guanacos at the fair,” Michael said. “Thank goodness. I spent all morning making peace between the llama people and the alpaca people. Don’t stir them up again.”
“Okay, on a more practical note, where’s Groucho?” I asked. “And where are Josh and Jamie? And what happened to the second-place llama—sulking because Harpo beat him?”
“Groucho is back in the pen—the boys are helping Rob groom him for the costume contest tonight,” Michael said. “And the second place winner is female, so we don’t want her here with all the guys.”
I nodded my agreement. The male llamas all got along together famously as long as you didn’t introduce any females. Apparently having a female in the same pen or pasture—or even within sight—set the male llamas’ hormones racing, and they would spend all of their time fighting with each other and hovering over the female. Before we’d found this out, Michael was planning to buy a female llama, and we’d had long debates over whether to name her Minnie Marx, Margaret Dumont, or Mary Livingstone, after the Marx Brothers’ cousin who married Jack Benny. But now we’d put off adding any lady llamas until we could set up a separate barn and pasture for them. The longer that project stayed on Michael’s to-do list, the happier I’d be.
“You look down,” Michael said.
“We’ve had another chicken theft,” I said. “Someone stole Mr. Beamish’s Sumatrans.”
“Oh, no.”
“I feel like going over and apologizing to the Bonnevilles,” I said. “I’m depressed, and the Sumatrans weren’t even our chickens.”
“Well, maybe it’s for the best,” Michael said. “Maybe we’re rushing into this. We can take a little time, do a little more research, make sure we really want chickens, and that Sumatrans really are a good option. And then—”
“I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but it’s not working,” I said. “I’m still depressed. It’s not just the chickens, you know.”
“Yes, there’s also the whole experience of finding a dead guy at our fair and having one of your friends accused of his murder.”
“Yes,” I said. “And the chickens were the last straw. I feel so bad for Mr. Beamish. And also guilty, that I’m selfishly worrying if he will have any Sumatran chicks left to sell us. This must be why they warn you not to count your chickens before they’re hatched. Or in our case, bought.”
“You need something to raise your spirits,” Michael said. “I have an idea—let’s take the boys to the Midway.”
If he expected me to cheer at the idea, he was doomed to disappointment. I probably scowled instead.
“Oh, come on,” he said. “It’ll take your mind off everything.”
“You think the boys are up for it?” I asked.
“They’ve been dying to go since they first saw it,” he said. “And it’s gotten worse since we moved the llama exhibit here, right next to the Midway and they’ve been seeing it all day.”
“I know they want to go,” I said. “But will it scare them? All the blaring noise and blinking lights? And are there any rides they can ride?”
“If we go now, while it’s still light, it won’t be as overwhelming. And the Midway has a merry-go-round, and kiddie bumper cars, and a couple of those rides where they can drive toy fire trucks or boats or whatever that don’t even leave the ground.”
“They’ll want cotton candy and every other kind of junk food.”
“Yes, but they’ve just had snacks. They will want junk food, but they won’t be able to eat much of it.”
I suddenly realized that I was feeling a strong and arguably illogical aversion to the Midway. Was my brain associating it with Brett’s murder?
“If you’d rather not go,” Michael said. “I can probably recruit your brother to help me take them some other time. He loves the Midway.”
“He would,” I said. “Okay, you’re on. I’ll go. Although I think we probably should take Rob with us anyway.”
“To provide additional adult supervision, or another playmate for the boys?”
Always a good question with Rob.
“A little of both,” I said. “And he can help eat up any surplus junk food.”
So we collected the boys and their uncle Rob and set out for the Midway.