Chapter 17
When Saturday arrived, Gregory was glad he would be with Sascha and the others at the fairgrounds. He never thought he would be at a psychic booth with his fiancée while she told people’s fortunes—for real.
Sascha wore her usual colorful clothes, while he wore a T-shirt and jeans, the T-shirt featuring a crystal ball—courtesy of Sascha.
Red, Henry, Nick, and Omar were nearby, watching Sascha and Lucy’s booths. Then Red came over to the booth. “Hey, I’m going to take a walk out to the parking lot and check out the cars and then look over the fairground to make sure there is no one suspicious looking around.”
“Sounds good.” Gregory really didn’t believe he needed that many bodyguards around, but he was glad they were there for Sascha in particular.
The guy hadn’t recently targeted Gregory or contacted him or Sascha—she had a new phone number—no emails, no run-ins on the road.
He was beginning to think whoever it was had given up his mad attempts to hurt him or Sascha.
Though he supposed the guy could be just lying low, or maybe even having the extra bodyguards had scared him off.
Neither of his PIs had gotten back to him about the family member involved in the resistance efforts in France, nor had they learned anything about the family who had claimed he was their son when he was born.
At least three clowns had come through the area, entertaining kids by making animal balloons for small groups, while Sascha, Katrina, and Lucy worked at their booths.
Gregory and Prescott were talking about their bachelor party trip but were careful not to mention where they were going or even think about the location, in case the ladies could envision any of it.
His bodyguards weren’t shy about showing anyone who appeared dangerous that they could be even more dangerous. They were carrying Texas License to Carry cards, but they were also big guys, looking like they could put someone in the hospital without drawing a weapon.
They were talking to each other, then separated to watch the area better.
The clowns had moved off, and Prescott and Gregory were about ready to buy lunch for everyone.
But this time, because the bodyguards were with them, Gregory would also make sure they had something to eat.
They would take turns, though one would go with Gregory and Prescott to get the food, while Omar went with them and Henry and Nick stayed behind.
Gregory texted Red: See anything out your way?
Red texted back: Normal fair goings-on, a few crazily dressed people, but no one who looks dangerous.
Gregory texted: That’s good. We’re all getting ready to grab lunch. You can do the same when you have the time.
Red texted: Thanks, I will.
Then Gregory and Prescott ordered what they wanted: garlic parmesan bread cone filled with creamy Tex-Mex chicken spaghetti, green chiles, queso, and shredded cheese, all topped with pico de gallo, sour cream, and avocado.
The ladies all wanted crab and mozzarella arancini. Omar got a giant turkey leg.
Then they all returned to the booths with the food. Omar ate with Gregory and Sascha. When Omar finished his turkey leg, he relieved Henry, who took off to visit the food vendors; then Red arrived to relieve Nick. And then the switching of cousins began until everyone had eaten.
Before they left the fairgrounds, they all wanted to grab some desserts.
Sascha was in the middle of a reading when she suddenly gasped. Katrina was giving a reading next to her for another woman, and she glanced at her.
Gregory peeked into the curtain to see what was wrong. As soon as he did, someone fired off fireworks, though he didn’t see who it was because of the number of people there. It slammed into the base of Sascha’s booth, barely missing the people in line to speak with Katrina or Sascha.
Everyone screamed and ran for safety.
The missile was spinning, sending sparks everywhere and making everyone scatter.
It caught the booth fabric on fire, but the fabric had flame retardant on it, so it quickly sizzled rather than erupt into flames.
The tent over the booth had also been treated with fire retardant, as required for all booths with fabric coverings.
Gregory grabbed the fire extinguisher Sascha kept under the table and ran around to put out the fire that blackened part of the fabric before it could grow into anything more sinister.
She immediately called the fairgrounds coordinator.
“Hey, it’s Sascha. Someone shot off a fireworks missile, and it hit my booth.
We put out the small amount of flames that started, which, because of the flame retardant on the fabric, only blackened a couple of areas, but we need it investigated right now. ”
“I’m on it.”
She knew the fairgrounds coordinator was calling his fairground security police to take care of it. Henry, Nick, and Omar stayed put, making sure it wasn’t a distraction so someone would go after Gregory.
It didn’t take long for the fairground security officers to rush to her booth and begin investigating where the fireworks had come from.
“I had only envisioned the rocket or whatever it was spinning around the booth and trying to create a fire,” Kat told Gregory and her family members, since no customers had stayed for any more readings.
“Did anyone see who shot off the firework?” one of the officers asked.
“No. Everyone was crowded around the booths and beyond that,” Gregory said.
But Kat said to one of the officers, “I didn’t see who shot it off, but a guy wearing a clown outfit—orange wig, big red nose, orange, yellow, and red striped one-piece suit, oversized black shoes—caught my attention.
Three of them had come by earlier to make animal balloons for kids. He probably was just one of them.”
“Your bodyguards didn’t see anything?” one of the officers asked.
Henry shook his head. “As Mr. Landry said, there were people all over. We were watching for anyone who might be wearing a gun. Though it seems this guy's method of operation is to try and kill Mr. Landry by hitting his vehicle with a bigger one.”
Omar agreed. “Do you have security videos?”
“Not everywhere. Mostly at the entrance where people are purchasing tickets, and at the food vendors who handle a lot of money. We have a few scattered about the fairgrounds, but we don’t have one specifically watching this area,” one officer said.
Police officers arrived at their booth a few minutes later and helped the security officers ask fairgoers if they had seen anything. But the people in line to see the fortune tellers had been focused on reaching the front of the line so they hadn’t seen anything.
Red hurried to join them. “What do you want me to do? Henry texted me about the situation. I was watching to see if anyone fled the fairgrounds at the ticket booth, just in case the person who had shot off the firework was trying to leave in a hurry.”
“Why don’t you and Nick post yourselves out back of the booths?” Gregory asked. “Omar and Henry can continue to watch the front.”
“On it,” Red said.
Nick quickly went around the back of the booth and stationed himself there until Red joined him.
Gregory glanced around at the thinning crowd and wondered if the ladies would get any more business after what had happened.
But then some newcomers hurried to get in line, and he figured they hadn’t heard what had happened, but had seen that the ladies didn’t have a long line and were eager to get their fortunes read or visit with a dearly departed.
He was glad that business was returning to normal for the ladies, though he and Prescott were on high alert, watching for any unsavory characters who might suddenly intrude on their space.
The thing was that this could have just been some stupid prank and had nothing to do with the attempted murderer. It just happened to be near the ladies’ booths, setting everyone on edge.
When they finally finished the day and left their booths to grab desserts before going home, they ordered fried cookie dough, fried double stuffed cookies, and key lime pie bombs. They ate them and met up with the security officers to see if they had learned anything.
“No one saw who set off the fireworks,” one of the officers said. “It could have even been a teen. We talked to some of them who were there in groups, none of them with adults, but none of them appeared to have had any fireworks with them.”
Another of the officers said, “We talked to the clowns to see if anyone had been dressed like the description that Ms. Worthington gave us. They said Matthew had stayed home sick with the flu. His costume was at the fairgrounds so he could change here. Somebody must have borrowed it.”
“Was it returned?” Sascha asked.
“Yeah, but it did smell like burning sulfur, or rotten eggs, and smoky.”
“So someone had used his clown costume to shoot off the missile,” Gregory asked for confirmation.
“Yeah. It appears so. No one saw Matthew come to the fairgrounds, so that’s what his friends assumed,” the officer said.
It was disappointing that they didn’t know more than that, but the fact that the person had hidden his identity to shoot off the missile and aimed it in Sascha’s booth’s direction didn’t sound like it was accidental or just a prank.
Later that night, they had a fireworks show at the fair, featuring pop music, dancers, and acrobatics.
Gregory wondered if someone had stolen one of the fireworks from the people in charge of them, then used it near Sascha and Lucy’s booth.
The ladies were ready to go home after closing their booths.
It would have been harder to keep everyone safe as it grew darker, and the pops of fireworks were going off, disguising gunshots fired if anyone tried to shoot Gregory.
They all headed out to their cars, with Omar, Gregory, and Sascha escorting Lucy to hers. And once she had driven off, they said goodnight to Kat and Prescott. Then they went to Gregory’s car, Omar driving, and Nick was in the front passenger seat. Henry and Red followed behind in another vehicle.