Page 21 of More Than Nothing
His question startled her but she recovered quickly. Her arms, resting on the rail next to his own, remained slack but he didn’tmiss the careful glance she shot over his shoulder. Roman tilted his head toward the children.
“It would be Jasper for me, I think.” She pointed to a small boy dressed as a scarecrow. A row of cardboard carrots hung from each half of his reins. “He’s adorable. Looks like he made his own costume, too. He lives with his grandparents—they’re nice people.”
Roman nodded thoughtfully, taking in the line of colorful competitors. One child was dressed as an astronaut and another couple were superheroes in capes and tights. In addition, there was a host of obligatory fairies, princesses, knights, and cowboys, all equipped with glitter, streamers, swords, or hats.
“Excuse me a moment.” He ducked between the fence rails and strode across the grass.
Meeting Mrs. Magellan, the mayor’s wife, all smiles and primary colors, in the center of the circle, he took a large red rosette from her hands. She thanked him for coming with a squeeze of his elbow and a slightly alarming flick of her hair. Roman backed away to award the first prize to a delighted scarecrow. He rubbed his hand up and down the neck of Jasper’s pony and took a moment to ask the small boy a few questions.
Jasper had one of his own, pretty standard among kids of his age. “How many people have you shot?”
“No one today,” Roman replied seriously, and gave the boy a wink.
As he handed out the rest of the prizes, he was aware of Elenie, in the periphery of his vision, clapping among the gathered spectators. When he excused himself from the group and walked back to the fence, she didn’t even try to shut down the grin that broke over her face. It wasn’t huge and it was a little shy, but Roman almost missed his step when he saw it. It hit him like a bolt from an electric fence square in the chest, and maybe a little lower too.
The pull he felt toward her was unexpected, inconvenient, definitely unwise. The impulse to keep that light on her face was concerning. “Ice cream or cotton candy? Or both? My treat,” he asked.
Elenie hesitated. Another glance, over her own shoulder this time.
“Please.” He took a step away, hoping she’d follow if he gave her more space, and waited.
It took almost half a minute.
“I’ve always wanted to try cotton candy.”
“It’s so sweet it makes your teeth hurt. But a town fair’s not a town fair without it.” A warm sliver of satisfaction slid between his ribs when she let go of the fence to walk by his side.
They wandered slowly through the milling crowd. Roman took in the surroundings and marveled at the contrast between a homicide shift and this casual afternoon on duty at the Pine Springs fair. The setting made Detroit seem like a distant chapter in his life. It was surreal.
But, even with the mingled scent of hot dogs and horseshit in his nose, he still had a job to do. And he needed to get Elenie Dax talking.
Digging deep into unfamiliar reservoirs of chatter, Roman told Elenie of other town fairs he remembered from the past, including when Milo had once eaten nine corn dogs and thrown up on his shoes. “And not even that long ago either.”
She smiled and listened. He thought for a moment that she wasn’t going respond.
“Last year, Lilian Dankworth mistook dried garlic for coconut flakes,” Elenie said eventually, “and baked a cherry cake that stank out the food tent.”
A smartly dressed older man passed them, wearing a navy bucket hat and licking at a scoop of mint ice cream. He raised hiscone in greeting, a warm smile on his lips. “Good afternoon, my dear. How lovely to see you outside of the diner.”
“It’s closed this afternoon for the fair.” Elenie flicked Roman a glance. “Otto, have you met the new police chief?”
He stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Roman Martinez.”
“A pleasure to meet you.” The old man’s eyes were shrewd, his face friendly and his grip firm. “Perhaps I could buy you a coffee the next time our paths cross in Elenie’s place of work?” He leaned in. “I can tell you where she’s buried the bodies...”
Roman chuckled. “I’d very much like that. You’d save a lot of legwork.”
Elenie gave the old man a gentle shove with her elbow and he walked on, tipping his hat to them as he went. Roman thought how different her face looked when it was less guarded. Younger, happier. It tightened again when they skirted the beer stand and she turned her head away from a small group of preppy-looking guys standing under the awning. Her shoulders hunched a little. She put more distance between them. He ran his eyes over the men, fixing their faces in his mind.
Roman bought two huge sticks of cotton candy bigger than his head from a chirpy teenager with a cart, and passed one to Elenie with a flourish. Her smoky eyes flared as she popped a large pinch into her mouth. “That is—so sweet! And kind of disgusting. But also, amazing!”
He couldn’t help the grin. “An accurate assessment, eloquently put.”
A short, rounded woman with a tight crop of graying curls and bustling elbows turned from a stand selling local preserves to give them a hard look over her shoulder. Elenie and Roman were clearly the topic of conversation between her and Josephine Alberty, the Pine Springs librarian.
“That’s Elfrida Alberty and her daughter,” murmured Elenie beside him. She took another pinch of her cotton candy.
He could see the resemblance now she’d pointed it out. Roman tilted his head and considered the options.
