“Oh yes. They did a thorough job.” She nodded her approval.
“Did they do the other sculptors?” Chase asked.
“Definitely. I think they did them first.” She bobbed her head again. “Thanks for these delights.” She waved her bag in the air as she left.
Tanner sent three more texts that afternoon.
Chase and Anna, helped by Inger, baked some more bars that night.
“How did we ever think we had enough stockpiled before the fair started?” Anna asked, taking out the last batch of Pink Lemonade Bars.
They had underestimated how many they would sell by several dozen, but they weren’t complaining.
The cat was back home after another long day at the fair. His owner fed him but skipped her own dinner to sit at the computer in the office. She also skipped a petting session. He tried to jump into her lap twice but was shooed off. He snaked between her legs, but it had no effect. They were both unhappy with each other.
When Chase got to the office, she was determined to finish up the data for Tanner. She pored over the screen, coming up with dessert bar descriptions for the rest of the products that surprised her. For some reason, she was in the groove. Glowing imagery rolled from her fingertips.
Pink Lemonade Bars: Bring yourself a taste of a lazy summer day, lolling in a hammock.
Much better than “You’ve never tasted better Lemon Bars.”
Oatmeal Raspberry Jam Bars: Gooey goodness that will bring back warm memories on winter days.
Peanut Butter Fudge Bars: Go ahead, be a kid again.
That was better than the one she’d sent him.
She liked the Harvest Bar description she had done before: Imagine a crisp fall day, just before the frost is on the pumpkin.
She kept that one and several others. She sat back and admired her work. The descriptions were good. At least, she liked them.
She finally sent the file to Tanner shortly before one AM, telling him she would have the rest of the pictures by midweek, when the shop was back to normal. Since they would be closed Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, he would get them on Wednesday, but she didn’t say that. He replied immediately that he would look at her file.
As she was brushing her teeth, her cell phone chirped. Quickly rinsing her mouth, she saw it was a text from Mike. At this hour! No doubt he hadn’t called because he didn’t think she would be up. It seemed no one was sleeping that night. The gist of the text was that Jay had checked Dr. Drood’s credentials and phoned Mike just now to say there were none. The poor old vet had let everything lapse. Mike had let his vet friend know.
Chase wondered if Mike would pay the doctor anything. Knowing him, she thought he might.
Just before turning out her bedside lamp, Tanner texted again asking for payment. They didn’t have a formal agreement, and the amount seemed steep. Granted, he had put in a lot of time and was doing excellent work. Her checking account might not stretch that far, though, and she didn’t want to sneak a payment past Anna. She would have to spill it all to Anna very soon. Maybe tomorrow night, after the fair, when she could show her the homepage screen. If Tanner had added some of her new data, that would help.
She had to put him off one more day.
* * *
Sunday morning, Inger rode to the fair with Chase. She wanted to see the Fancy Cat Contest. She chattered nonstop on the way, clearly in a good mood, and told Chase she would hang out until then, watching other competitions and seeing the booths. Chase made sure she had money to buy lunch and some snacks.
“Be sure you’re drinking enough,” Chase said, vaguely remembering that pregnant women needed to drink a lot of liquids. She had no idea why that should be so, but Inger wasn’t doing much else to actively benefit the baby. True, she wasn’t drinking alcohol or smoking, but pregnant women did all sorts of special, weird things. At least Inger had a heavy, lined, woolen coat.
Tanner sent three more texts on the way in. She muted her phone.
The two women parted ways at the midway, and Chase hurried to the big building to drop Quincy off. Patrice, already in her Madame Divine getup, was leaving the vet’s place in tears. The fortune-teller shoved past Chase and rushed down the hallway, so Chase didn’t even get a chance to offer any sympathy.
Once inside the back room, she asked Mike if his cousin was okay.
“She’s still being chewed out by Viktor.”
“Her grandfather?” She had been so impressed by his imperious demeanor. An elegant gentleman. But maybe one who held on to his anger?
“Yes, Viktor can be a harsh man sometimes. He’s still upset she didn’t tell him she was a suspect. He’s also incredibly angry that she’s stealing again after she went for such a long period without doing it. It’s bad for his health.”
“Why is he so angry about that? Is he overly upset about things because of his cancer treatment?”
“No, that’s not it at all. He’s spent a lot of money on counseling for Patrice, to cure her of her addiction to stealing things. He even sent her to San Francisco to see a renowned hypnotherapist. The man claimed he could cure anyone of anything. It cost a lot of money. And, until now, we all thought it had worked.”
Oh yes, that made sense. He loved his granddaughter and had put a lot of effort into helping her. “How much is the cat collar worth?”
“I don’t know, but it’s a lot.”
If Patrice had it, Chase would think she would give it back to get her poor grandfather off her back. “It’s too bad no one has found it.”
“The police have searched almost every inch of this fairground. If it were here, I think it wouldn’t still be missing.”
“Do you think someone has sold it?”
Mike shrugged. “Doesn’t matter what I think. I sure wish someone could find it, though, to keep peace in my family.”
Chase wished someone would find it—or turn it in—to get Mike off the hook for murder. She was still sure the two crimes were connected.
She noticed that several cages had cats in them today, besides the black one that was usually there. “Are all these cats being held here for the contest?”
Mike nodded. There was a gigantic Maine Coon, a pair of Siamese in the same cage, and another glossy black cat, this one with a white-tipped tail and four white boots.
“Are their costumes here?”
Mike grinned. “You want a peek at the competition, don’t you? No, they didn’t leave them here.”
Oh well, she had tried. “I’ll be back around one to get Quincy into his costume.”
“You finally decided on a costume? What’s he going to be? Puss in Boots?”
Chase gave him what she hoped was a sly grin. “It’s a good one, but I’m not telling. You’ll have to wait and see.”
She stepped inside the exhibit hall on her way out of the building. A Fancy Dog Contest was about to start. She looked around for Inger, but didn’t see her there. Nervous dog owners clustered about with their charges. Some were adorable, others bizarre. A bulldog wore an eyepatch and a tricornered hat with a tiny parrot perched on the brim, a darling pirate. A dachshund wore a brown sweater with bristling triangles on his back—some sort of dinosaur, Chase thought. The poodle ballerina and the Scottie peacock were awfully cute. How would a judge decide who to give the prizes to? They were all so well done.
She hoped the cat competition wouldn’t be this fierce.
On her way back to the Bar None booth, she stopped at one of the food trailers for a cup of strong coffee. The large heat lamps felt good on her head and shoulders as she waited in line there. She had slept poorly, worrying about Inger and her baby and about Michael Ramos and the evidence against him. Now she was beginning to feel that a nap would be nice. Too bad she couldn’t take one today. Maybe strong coffee would keep her awake. She still had the remnants of her intermittent headache, and the caffeine might help with that, too.