Free September Fair by Jess Lourey Page B

the chaperone since then.”
    I made a mental note to research the pageant of 1977. Janice had just about said she’d won, which was not nearly the same as being first runner-up. “And as chaperone, you were present the whole time Ashley was in the booth?”
    “Of course.”
    “And you didn’t see anything unusual?”
    “I already answered that question for the police. Surely you were there, too?”
    “Yes,” I said, distracted by an agitated scuffle between a cow and her milker. “Right up front, taking pictures. I snapped something peculiar about the back of Ashley’s head, but I keep forgetting to enlarge the photo so I can figure out what it was. Say, I don’t suppose you know where I could find the sculptor, do you? Glenda Haines?”
    “I don’t suppose I do.” She glanced over her shoulder. I followed her gaze. Her companion and the police officer had finished their conversation and were staring impatiently at us. “If you’ll excuse me.”
    I watched her and the guy leave, considered asking the police officer now stationed at the base of the stairs where I could find the sculptor, and thought better of it. I needed to stay under the radar. Instead, I exited the barn and walked the fair, following a route I had mapped out the first day, one that took me past everything but the Haunted House. I walked, and I listened, and I smelled the air thick with the odors of cinnamon, fresh-spun cotton candy, and roasted pork chops. I spent all of the morning and the early part of the afternoon exploring the grounds. Walking jugglers captivated me for a short while, as did a puppet show staged by a local theater troupe. When the crying kids and irritable parents took all the pleasure from the show, I moved on. I scoured the far reaches of the fair, strolled through the Midway, and generally hit everything but the creepy games area.
    It took me until nearly three o’clock in the afternoon before I’d been to all the corners of the fair. Now was as good a time as any to research the special State Fair edition of my “Battle Lake Bites” column. Ron’s wife had gratefully handed the food column off to me when I had started at the Recall last spring. I’d changed its name but otherwise kept the mission: find food representative of Battle Lake specifically, and Minnesota in general. What better place to do that than the State Fair? And the research would help to distract me from the thought of seeing Johnny’s band tonight, the only spot of true excitement I’d experienced since Ashley’s death.
    Kennie’s news when she’d arrived, that Johnny’s band was scheduled to play at the Leinie Lodge Bandshell tonight, had turned out to be true. The bandshell was a roomy stage by the Space Tower. I’d checked out a great rockabilly band there last night, eager to scope out Johnny’s locale. The setting drew big crowds, and I was sure this would be an exciting night for Johnny.
    I’d seen his band play once or twice around Battle Lake, before I knew who he was. The Thumbs’ music was an original mix of folk and rock with a bluesy edge. Johnny had started the group with three high school buddies. When they graduated and went their separate ways to college, they’d jam in the summer and play at parties, but they didn’t get any more organized than that until three of the members settled in and around Battle Lake to start their grown-up lives. Johnny had been the wild card, intending to return to Madison to begin his graduate program in horticulture this fall, but a convergence of events had kept him in Battle Lake. Since he was taking a year off, he was focusing his extra time on the band. Apparently, it was paying off.
    I mosied over to the bandshell for one last peek before heading to the food stalls. The stage was empty, but people were sitting around on the grounds, picnicking and generally taking a rest from the fair. A lot of families had blankets, but most couples were sitting on the ground. I was about to