The Fatal Funnel Cake Read Online Free Page B

enchiladas.”
    Phyllis said, “That’s unusual, but it doesn’t sound bad.”
    â€œThen there’s the Spam tamale pie.”
    Carolyn said, “I’m sensing a Mexican food theme here.”
    â€œAnd the south-of-the-border Spam cups with biscuits, cornmeal, cheese, and black beans.”
    â€œThat actually sounds good,” Phyllis said.
    â€œBut I’m leanin’ toward Texas-style Spam sushi,” Sam went on. “It’s sort of like Mexican food, too, since it has jalapeño peppers in it. It’s a Texas twist on Hawaii’s Spam
musubi
recipe.”
    Carolyn didn’t look too enthusiastic about that one, but Phyllis said, “I’m looking forward to trying whatever you come up with, Sam.”
    Peggy said, “You know, you can make just about any sentence dirty by adding the words
in bed
after it.”
    Carolyn frowned. “What in the world made you think about that?”
    â€œOh, just the way Phyllis said she was looking forward to trying anything Sam came up with.”
    â€œOh, good grief! Grow up and get a grip on yourself.”
    Peggy let out a cackle. “In bed!”
    Phyllis felt herself blushing, but at the same time she wanted to laugh. It was terribly juvenile humor, the sort of thing her eighth graders would have come up with back when she was teaching, but she had to admit that Peggy made it funny.
    Sam looked a little embarrassed, too. He pointed at the TV and said, “Uh, the show’s back on.”
    â€œYeah, but it’s not as good as the show here, Stretch,” Peggy said. She laughed again and went on, “Don’t worry, I’ll behave myself.”
    Eve came downstairs a few minutes later and asked, “What was so funny? I heard laughing while I was upstairs.”
    â€œNothing,” Carolyn said. “It was just something on the TV. You had to be here.”
    She obviously didn’t want the subject raised again, so Phyllis and Sam didn’t say anything. Neither did Peggy, although Phyllis saw a smile lurking around her lips and could tell that Peggy was having trouble restraining herself. For Carolyn’s sake, though, she did it.
    â€œWe’re going to the fair tomorrow to see Joye Jameson’s show,” Phyllis said, thinking it best that they move on, too. She turned to their hostess and went on, “You’ll come with us, too, won’t you, Peggy?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Peggy said. “I don’t want to intrude on your outing.”
    Carolyn said, “Nonsense. How could you possibly intrude?”
    â€œWell, it might be fun at that. You know, I’ve lived in Dallas my whole life, and yet I’ve never been to the state fair.”
    â€œThat’s not unusual,” Sam said. “A lot of folks never take in the sights that are right in their own backyard. When they want to do something special, they go farther off.”
    â€œIt’s settled, then,” Phyllis said. “We’ll all go, and we’ll have a fine time.”
    Of course, that last part wasn’t settled yet, she reminded herself . . . but one could always hope.

Chapter 4
    S aying that Fair Park, where the State Fair of Texas was held and where the Cotton Bowl was located, was just down the road from Peggy’s house didn’t necessarily mean that the drive was easy, not when the roads involved were North Central Expressway and Interstate 30, also known as the R. L. Thornton Freeway. Traffic bound for the fair was already backed up on both highways by the time Phyllis and her friends approached their destination the next morning. Sam was at the wheel of the Lincoln again, with Phyllis in the front seat and Eve, Carolyn, and Peggy in the back. All of them were dressed casually and comfortably. It was going to be a warm autumn day, and since they expected to do quite a bit of walking, they had all opted for sensible shoes as well.
    Eventually they