“There's nothing we can do right now, and you'll need your wits about you later. Come on," Jane insisted.
She took Sharlene's arm and led her through the fairgrounds. Along the way, she spotted Shelley, who joined them and whispered, "What happened?”
Jane put a finger to her lips and muttered, "Later.”
The mobile home the museum had rented for the staff's use was parked in a shady spot behind the Pea Pod Ride, an ancient, creaking mechanism with baskets fashioned to look like pea pods. The mobile home was large, luxurious, and must have been specially selected for the power of its air-conditioning system; for as the three women entered, they were engulfed in what seemed to them, after being outside, likefrigid air. Sharlene picked through the grocery bags neatly lined up on the sofa for the one with her name on it in red.
“Do you think it's okay if I use the shower?" she asked.
“I'd say it was mandatory," Jane replied with an encouraging grin.
Sharlene smiled weakly and disappeared into the minuscule bathroom.
“What on earth is going on?" Shelley asked the moment the door had closed.
“Sharlene said someone was shot to death out on that field.”
Shelly put her hand over her mouth. "No!”
“She said it was her boss."
“Regina Price Palmer?"
“Yes, Palmer was the name. Who is she?”
“She's the museum director," Shelley replied. "Oh, of course. Her name was in the brochure. That's why it sounded familiar."
“Is she right?" Shelley asked. "Sharlene's obviously in bad shape herself. Could the heat have made her a little loopy?”
Jane shrugged. "I don't know. But something certainly happened. Someone was on the ground with a crowd standing around looking alarmed.”
Just as the faint sound of sirens became audible, there was a sharp knock on the door, and in stepped a young man in farmer's overalls rolled up to his knees, with a straw hat perched on his head of brown hair worn in a long ponytail. "Excuse me, do either of you know where Sharlene Lloyd is?"
“Yes, she's showering and changing," Shelley said.
“She's okay, then? Good." He put out his hand to Jane, who was closest to him. "Jumper Cable," he said.
Jane took his hand. "I'm sorry — I have no idea where you'd find a jumper cable."
“No, that's me."
“You're a jumper cable?" Jane asked with alarm, gingerly freeing her hand. Had the heat made everyone crazy? Or perhaps she was crazy and imagining this conversation. Soon she'd be thinking she was Napoleon.
“I'm sorry. Tom Cable. People call me Jumper.”
Relieved, Shelley and Jane introduced themselves. Jumper said, "I just wanted to make sure Sharlene was okay. Tell her I came by, would you?”
And with that, he was gone. A second later, Sharlene emerged from the bathroom. She had on a denim skirt, a sleeveless white blouse, and sandals; a towel was wrapped around her head. She held her "pioneer woman" clothes in her arms. She was obviously feeling better, at least physically. "I'm sorry. It was rude of me to rush in first like that. I probably used all the hot water, too."
“I hope you have," Shelley said. "I want a cold shower. Oh, a boy calling himself Jumper Cable came to see if you were okay.”
Sharlene blushed. "He's not a boy. Tom Cable is the museum's attorney. Thanks for telling me."
“Attorney?" Jane asked. "He looked barely old enough to vote!"
“He does look young," Sharlene said a bit defensively, "but he's thirty-three years old. Last May twelfth.”
Shelley picked out her own grocery sack and took her turn in the bathroom. She came out a few minutes later, looking as fresh as new paint. Her short, dark hair was already half dry and as tidy as always. Sharlene went to hang up all their pioneer clothes while Jane got cleaned up. There was no hot water left, as Sharlene had predicted, but the cool shower was refreshing and putting on clean, lightweight cotton clothes was even more so. Jane was still combing out her wet, dark blond mop of hair when Mel arrived.
“I thought I'd never find you!" he exclaimed.
“Sharlene, this is my friend Detective Mel VanDyne," Jane said. "Sharlene Lloyd is Ms. Palmer's secretary.”
Sharlene asked, "Is she dead? Really?"
“I'm afraid so, Ms. Lloyd. Do you feel like answering a few questions?”
Sharlene became teary-eyed again. "I think — will you excuse me for a minute?”
She disappeared into the depths of the mobile home, and Mel said to Jane and Shelley, "Then I'll start with you two."
“Are you in charge of the case?" Jane asked.
“No, just helping with interviews. There was a mob of people out there, you know, and it's important to interview as many as possible as quickly as possible."
“I don't know how much help we can be, Mel," Jane said. "We weren't in 'witness' mode."
“People seldom are," he replied.
“But we were really out in left field, if you'll forgive the expression," Shelley put in. "We were busy pretending like mad. The woman who rehearsed us really emphasized that we weren't to try to act the parts, but really get into it and be the people. She said that was the whole point of a reenactment. And we took her at her word. It was spooky, in fact. I was really scared of the battle, even though I knew it was all fake."
“But unfortunately, it wasn't," Jane added grimly. "Shelley's right. We weren't quite ourselves. Maybe it was just the heat, but I felt — well, almost hypnotized into my part.”
Mel wasn't very sympathetic. "Then you're going to have to snap out of it, because I need information. Do the best you can, okay?”
But it wasn't a successful interview. The experience had been pure chaos and neither of them could satisfactorily choreograph exactly what they'd done in what order, let alone account for anyone else's movements.
“There was a group of women — three of them, I think — just behind us to begin with," Jane summed up. "One of them was Sharlene Lloyd. I remembered her because her red hair and red face made her look so much hotter than the rest of us. And one of the women with her had a hat with cloth flowers like big cabbage roses. I saw her later, when we were trying to escape. She was ahead of us then, though. And she was already lying on the ground. Was that Ms. Palmer?”
Mel nodded. "Did she look injured when you saw her?"
“She looked dead," Shelley said bluntly. "But then, she was supposed to pretend to be dead, I guess."
“You couldn't see her expression," Jane said. "She was facedown and her hat had skewed around and concealed her features.”
Sharlene rejoined them. Her nose and eyes were pink and she had a crumpled tissue in her hand, but she was calm. "I've been listening to your questions," she said softly. "I'm afraid I don't know much, either. I was walking with Ms. Palmer and Babs McDonald. And I know it sounds crazy, but I, too, sort of felt like it was really happening. When the shooting started, I just froze. I was worried about Babs — Mrs. McDonald. She's the older lady, you know. Miss Daisy's friend. And I was worried about her being out in the heat or falling and breaking her hip or something. So I just stood there, and when the soldiers got close, Babs gave me a shove and said to rim for safety. I turned around and ran back the way we'd come."