Chapter 30
I realized when we walked into the Midway that, quite apart from its proximity to the scene of the murder, I had a slightly jaundiced view of the place because of what a pain it had been to set up. Many of the members of the fair organizing committee had been against the whole idea of a Midway—in fact, they’d reacted to the idea as if Randall and I were suggesting that we stage a reenactment of the fall of Sodom and Gomorrah. Clearly they had seen way too many movies in which carnival people were depicted as either psychopathic, homicidal geeks or sinister, irresistible Svengalis. I had to admit, when I started interviewing vendors to find one to run our Midway, I encountered a few outfits that gave me the creeps—but they were outnumbered by the companies that promised a family-friendly carnival experience. Of course, a few of the self-proclaimed family-friendly companies turned out to be a little creepy, too. I didn’t take my recommendation to the committee until I had three bids from firms whose events I’d personally inspected—firms that regularly did church fund-raising events and could provide wads of testimonials from satisfied priests and ministers. Even then, some of the committee members had balked until Randall pointed out that the Midway would be in Clay County, not Caerphilly. Strangely, the committee didn’t seem reluctant to inflict geeks and barkers on our unloved neighbors.
After all that time driving around the state and inspecting other people’s midways, I’d had my fill of carnival life. Not to mention all the time I’d spent on our setup day, meeting, greeting, and surreptitiously vetting the Midway barkers and vendors. I assumed even the most family-friendly outfit occasionally hired some bad apples, and I wanted to make sure none of them ended up at our fair. A few of the barkers and ride operators were a bit rough around the edges, but they seemed honest enough. And Randall and I hoped that between my vetting of the personnel and his safety inspection of the rides, we could defuse any complaints by those anxious committee members.
“I just won a hundred dollars,” I told Michael, about two minutes after we walked through the new gate.
“Where?” Michael said. “I didn’t see you stop at a booth.”
“There,” I said. “And there.”
I pointed to a refreshment stand where one of the members of our fair organizing committee was buying giant balls of pink and blue cotton candy for her grandchildren, and then to a nearby booth where another committee member was attempting to shoot revolving targets with a toy gun.
“Cotton candy!” Jamie was tugging on my hand and pointing.
“I want a teddy bear,” Josh was saying, tugging Michael’s hand in the opposite direction, toward the target booth.
“Nice to see the committee members out supporting the fair,” Michael said. “But where’s the hundred dollars coming from?”
“Randall,” I said. “Cotton candy first, then we’ll see if Daddy can win a teddy bear,” I added to the boys. “Those are two of the three committee members who tried so hard to veto the idea of a midway in the first place.” I told Michael. “I made Randall a bet that before the fair was out, we’d catch at least one of them over here.”
“Cool.” Rob pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll get a few photos of them in case Randall doesn’t believe you. Can you get me some cotton candy, too?”
“I’m just getting some for the boys right now,” I said. “Chances are there will be leftovers.”
“Leftover cotton candy?” Rob sounded incredulous.
“They have small stomachs,” Michael said. “And they’re easily distracted.”
“At least I hope they will be,” I muttered, as I handed each boy a mountain of blue cotton candy
“Okay, I’ve e-mailed the photos to Randall,” Rob said.
“Teddy bears now?” Josh said through sticky blue lips.
“Teddy bears now,” Michael said.
To the boys’ astonishment, it was Mommy rather than Daddy or Uncle Rob who proved good enough with the toy guns to win teddy bears. The men redeemed themselves at the ball toss, winning a brace of garishly colored plush snakes.
And there was enough leftover cotton candy for Rob. Also leftover funnel cake, corn dogs, snow cones, kettle corn, soft pretzels, buttered popcorn, caramel apples, and lemonade. On average, the boys would have about two bites of each new food before getting distracted by something else and handing over their treasures to one of their entourage. Even Rob looked relieved when Michael suggested that we take a rain check on ice creams.
In between snacks, the boys slid down the inflatable slides, bounced on the Moon Bounce, careened around the bumper car rink, and rode on the Pirate Ship, the Kids’ Scrambler, the Kiddy Swing, the Tubs of Fun, the Whip-o-Whirl, the Flying Elephants (purple, no less), and the Lady Bugs. But their favorite—and mine—was the merry-go-round. I rode a couple of times, but mostly I stood, camera in hand, waving as they all flashed by and trying for the perfect greeting card moment.