A Killing Fair Read Online Free

right there.” She snapped off the phone and looked at me with the same grim expression she’d used all during the interrogation. “Drop something did you?”
    â€œNot really,” I said. “Just snoopy. Was that something about Vinnie?”
    â€œYou might say that,” she said. “They just found the kid who plays Fairchild, wearing nothing but undershorts, bound and gagged in a tool shed. He said somebody hit him from behind and tied him up and stole his costume while he was out.”
    â€œSo the Fairchild who delivered the poisoned square meal was a phony?” I said.
    â€œA phony with a mission,” Barnes said. “Whoever was wearing Fairchild’s costume is our killer.”
    â€œOkay if we follow you to the fairgrounds?”
    â€œIt’s a free country.” She actually smiled when she added, “Just stay one car length back for every ten miles per hour or I’ll tag you for following too close.”

 
    Chapter 3: Not So Fair
    T he teenager who played Fairchild looked too frail for the job. He also looked too tired and too scared to talk about being sapped, stripped and strapped. I could picture Lorrie Gardner smothering him with hugs and worse. Apparently he could, too, because he sat with the back of his chair against a wooden wall with only his face, from the nose up, showing above a gray army blanket held at port arms. Al got a great photo, which we used big on page one.
    Detective Barnes asked his name and he said, “Tommy.” She inquired as to a last name and he said, “Grayson.” She asked his age and he said “eighteen.” He didn’t look that old to me but she didn’t press the issue.
    Slowly and painfully Barnes dragged out the details. Tommy was whacked on the head from behind by an unseen and unheard assailant. He awoke in the tool shed with a headache and a lump. His hands and feet were bound and his mouth was stuffed with a bandanna wrapped around a stick. A killer with a dark sense of humor no less.
    â€œWhat time would you say you were attacked?” Barnes asked.
    â€œI’d just got into my costume, except for putting on my head piece, when I stepped out the door,” he said. “Must have been a few minutes after eight.”
    â€œIs eight o’clock your starting time?”
    â€œYes, ma’am. I work from eight to four. Derek Sloane takes over then and works till closing time. He’s older and can deal with the drunks . . .”
    â€œThank you, Tommy,” Barnes said. “Did you see your attacker at all?”
    â€œNo. He snuck up behind me and hit me before I could move.”
    â€œYou’re sure it was a he?”
    â€œWell, I . . . I guess so. He had to be pretty strong to hit me that hard.”
    â€œBut you didn’t see the person or hear the person speak?”
    â€œNo. I suppose it could have been a girl . . . a woman. Like I said, she’d have to be pretty strong.”
    â€œDo you think I look strong enough to knock you out and drag you away?”
    â€œYou look pretty strong, ma’am,” Tommy said.
    â€œIs that a yes?” Barnes asked.
    â€œUh, I guess so.” She glared at him and got an instantaneous, rapid-fire response. “Yes, ma’am. That’s definitely a yes.”
    â€œThank you, Tommy. And I take it you saw no one until someone came to the shed looking for equipment this afternoon.”
    â€œThat’s right. I was really glad to see Tiger.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œTiger. Tiger Wyberelli. From the maintenance crew. We call him Tiger because—
    â€œThank you, Tommy. I take it Tiger was the person who opened the door at . . . what time?” she asked.
    â€œMust have been almost four. That’s when Tiger starts, four.”
    â€œAnd he always starts by opening the tool shed?”
    â€œOh, no, ma’am,” said Tommy. “He just happened to need some cutters. Normally he