Shadows at the Fair by Lea Wait

talk for a few minutes?”
    Lydia nodded as she reached behind herself and shut the door softly. “I couldn’t sleep either. Isn’t it horrible? And after the murder last week at Westchester. It’s almost like fate; all these antiques dealers dying.”
    Fate? That someone gave the dealer in Westchester a poisoned pill, and that Harry’s head was caved in? Maggie shivered. Not what she’d call fate.
    “I can’t even close my eyes, just thinking about it. Abe was so upset I gave him some chamomile tea. He’s just fallen asleep. Deaths upset him, ever since our son passed away.” Lydia looked closely at Maggie. “This must be hard for you, too, dear. Your husband’s passing so recently and all.”
    “It’s not easy.” Maggie didn’t allow herself to think about that; there just wasn’t time. She’d be like Scarlett O’Hara: think about it tomorrow. “I didn’t know you’d had a son.”
    “We don’t talk much about poor Danny, but never a day goes by that we don’t think of him.”
    Maggie was sorry for Lydia, but they needed to get back to the subject of the evening. She went right to the point.
    “Do you think Susan could have done it?”
    “Susan’s always been a little…different. I guess she and Harry had one of those ‘open’ marriages.”
    “She may just be flirting.”
    Lydia looked at her. “Maggie, I may be older than you are, but I’m not daft. Susan’s never figured out that the field on the other side of the fence may be greener, but that’s because it’s full of crabgrass. But she and Harry were getting a divorce. Maybe Harry woke up and smelled the coffee.”
    “She said she and Harry were still going to be in business together. He was going to buy her out.”
    “Oh? Everyone knows Susan’s been hanging around Vince like a bee to an apple tree in bloom. I thought she might be trying to hang on to him. She wouldn’t be the first to try. But no one’s tied Vince down yet.”
    “Earlier, when I was looking for Susan’s van? You said you’d seen Harry talking to Vince.”
    “They were talking real serious like. I saw them when I was looking for Abe earlier. Wanted to make sure he’d had some supper before he settled in.”
    “Did you hear what they were talking about?”
    “No. They were too far away. And they were talking low. I couldn’t hear even when I walked by pretty close.”
    Maggie contained a smile. Lydia had probably done her best to tune in, too.
    “They weren’t just chatting. I could tell. Harry kept shaking his head and trying to hand Vince a piece of paper. Vince wouldn’t take it. He backed up a few feet, you know, like someone who’s trying to get away. But I was just walking past. I didn’t get a real chance to see.”
    She’d done all right for someone who was just walking by. “About what time was that, Lydia?”
    “I’d guess about nine-fifteen. The show had just closed. The police were still shooing people out of the buildings.”
    Before Harry and Susan had talked.
    “Maggie, what do you think is going to happen? Will the police ask all of us questions?” Lydia was obviously hoping to be on their list.
    “I don’t know, but I’d guess so. Harry’s dead. Murdered. Someone here must have done it.”
    “You know, I always thought the antiques business would be a calm, sort of aristocratic, way to make a living.” Lydia leaned back against a spot on her trailer that was almost red with rust.
    Maggie hoped the side wouldn’t cave in.
    “When Abe and I lived back in Iowa, we thought it would be a good way to spend our golden years. See the world, meet some nice people, and not have to worry about mowing the lawn and what the neighbors thought.”
    Maggie had never imagined Abe and Lydia living anywhere but in that trailer. “How long have you been in antiques?”
    “Full-time since about 1990. Not too long.”
    Lydia looked around, as though someone might be listening. “Abe and I, we had a good life in Iowa. We’re both