As she straightened, they both heard a scream. Chase threw the papers onto the table and she and Anna ran outside their booth to see what was going on.
The butter sculpture building was on the far side of the fortune-teller’s booth and a jewelry kiosk, four booths away from the Bar None. Several people were running toward it. Anna and Chase followed the gathering crowd.
A young man in a security uniform came up behind them and pushed his way through. “Excuse me,” he repeated. “Emergency, let me through.”
Within minutes, the onsite ambulance pulled up, lights flashing, the siren giving short burps, and paramedics rushed into the structure. In a few more minutes, two policemen came running and entered the exhibit space as well. That exhibition space was more than a tent, since it had to be refrigerated to keep the butter from melting. It was temporary but had wooden walls and a door. The door was closed and no one could see in, although Chase tried to peek every time it opened to admit someone else. More police arrived. A woman stood sobbing outside the entrance. Her face was red and splotchy.
Chase saw the young woman from the fortune-telling booth, the one Mike and his aunt had been talking to, at the opposite edge of the crowd. She chewed her knuckles with a worried look. She didn’t take her eyes from the closed door.
After a very long time, it seemed, paramedics emerged from the butter sculpture building pushing a gurney. The figure on it was covered with a sheet. Chase’s hand flew to her mouth. Anna grabbed her other hand and they held on tight. How awful that someone had passed away the day before the fair started.
The woman who had been outside the building now followed behind the gurney, silently weeping. She was dressed in a long, red, swishy skirt and cowgirl boots and had a stylishly shaped short hairdo. Chase surmised that someone had had a heart attack. Maybe a man, and this was his wife. Did butter sculptors eat a lot of butter? Were they an unhealthy bunch? The crowd parted to let them wheel the body to the ambulance, waiting a few feet away. The woman spoke with the paramedics, who shook their heads at her and closed the back bay doors.
The two policemen were the next to emerge. They led a tall, handsome man to their squad car. When he looked up to scan the crowd, he gave a shake of his head to the fortune-teller. Then he turned toward Chase. It was Mike Ramos!
THREE
Chase felt her knees weaken as she watched Mike being led away toward the police car.
“Ma’am.” A policewoman appeared beside her, holding Quincy. “Dr. Ramos said this was your cat. He sure is a handsome fellow.”
Taking the cat, Chase tried to speak, but couldn’t get any sounds out at first. “What . . . why . . .” She cleared her throat. “Is Dr. Ramos being arrested? What for?”
“He’s being brought in for questioning.” The woman left abruptly before Chase could ask her anything more. What was going on? It was like he was being . . . What was a good word? Detained?
Anna reached over to give the frightened cat in Chase’s arms a head rub. “Did you look inside there when we were searching for Quincy?” She nodded toward the building Mike Ramos had come from.
“No. I didn’t see how he could get inside. The door was closed.” Quincy nuzzled against Chase’s arm and left a smear. He had something oily on his whiskers. Butter?
“That doesn’t always stop Quincy,” Anna said. “But what’s happening to Mike Ramos?”
Chase shook her head. It was all too bewildering.
Another car pulled up onto the midway as the ambulance drove away with the body, leaving the weeping woman behind. Out of the newly arrived car stepped Detective Niles Olson.
“Uh-oh, look who’s here,” Anna said. “That dead man must have been murdered.”
“Figures he would show up,” Chase said. She had a strange relationship with the tall, good-looking homicide detective and a checkered history. Now she really wondered if Mike was being detained.
The man’s impossibly dark blue eyes scanned the crowd, lingering on Chase for an extra second before he entered the building.
“What should we do?” Chase asked.
“There’s nothing we can do. Dr. Ramos can take care of himself. If he needs help, he’ll ask. I’m sure they’ll let him go soon. He must have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Chase stole looks over her shoulder at the female police officer leaning into the squad car to talk to Mike as she and Anna returned to their own booth with Quincy purring in Chase’s arms.
“You bad fat cat,” she murmured, burying her face in his soft orangey fur. It smelled faintly of butter. He looked like he’d gained at least a pound eating the dessert bars and the handouts during his travels. “If you really think we can’t do anything for Mike Ramos, I’ll take Quincy back to the shop now and see how Inger’s doing.”
“And bake some more Hula Bars,” Anna said.
“Yes, and that. You’ll be okay here doing all the work alone?”
“With the size of our space, it might be easier for me to finish setting up by myself. I’ll be fine.”
In spite of Anna’s certainty about Mike being able to take care of himself, Chase wanted to ask Julie if her defense attorney friend Jay Wright was available just in case. She called her on her way home, but the call rang over to voice mail. Chase hardly ever phoned Julie in the middle of her workday, and it was reasonable that her personal cell was turned off. She decided not to leave a message and that she would try to call again later.
When Chase got back to the Bar None, it was lunchtime. After closing Quincy into the office, she briefly told Inger everything that had happened. Inger had met the veterinarian and expressed concern for him, but Chase repeated what Anna had said. There was nothing they could do for him. Unless, Chase thought, she could get Jay Wright to free Mike from the clutches of the police.
She asked Inger how business had been in the morning.
“Slow. Really slow.” Inger looked pale again today.
“Can you see a doctor this afternoon if we close up?”
“I don’t really have a doctor, but I can go to the clinic.”
“I think you should. You’ve been feeling bad for too long.” Chase waited for Inger to tell her she was pregnant. If Inger knew she was pregnant, that was.
“It’s crazy. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I mostly only feel bad in the morning.”
Maybe she really had no clue. “You need to see a doctor,” Chase urged. “Right away.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll do it.”
Chase smiled at her. “Make sure you do. It might be important.”
Inger looked puzzled. Yes, she had no clue. “How’s Quincy after his adventure?”
“He’ll live.” She didn’t want to detain Inger further with the details of his escapades at the fair. She’d tell her later. But Chase did take a moment to wonder how Quincy had gotten inside the building where the man died, and from where Mike Ramos emerged, escorted by the police. She hoped he would be questioned and released quickly.
“How did he sneak into the basket in the first place?” Inger asked.
“How does he sneak anywhere? The cat has skills.”
After Inger left, saying she would go straight to the clinic, Chase baked five dozen more Hula Bars. They packaged six bars to a box, so that would make up for the ten boxes Quincy had gotten into.
She tried Julie again with the same result. This time she left a message to call her back as soon as she could. She also tried to call Mike to see if he had been let go, but he didn’t answer either. It was maddening! She had no idea what was going on.
Tanner had sent her an e-mail saying he already had a mock-up of a website ready. She went to the computer in the office to look at it. She hadn’t given the young man the office number because she didn’t want Anna answering the phone when he called, so he only had Chase’s cell phone number.