Chapter 7
I’m not a huge fan of stage magicians. I was when I was a kid, but aren’t all kids fans of magic in whatever form they can get it.
“Willow, you choose what will be Magic or Mud?”
“The mud pit if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not, you go enjoy but I would advise that you sit in the back row, you never know what is in that mud.”
“Laura, Woodstock is famous for its mud and its hippies, and we are proud of them both. You’ve got the Olympics and the snow, we've got the hippies and the mud. Our towns are like twins.
Willow went to monitor the mud pits for old folks. I settled in for some legerdemain, the magician they had was very good. I certainly didn’t notice any mistakes and as predicted the kids in the crowd loved it. The magician and his lovely assistant were in their twenties. So about fifty years too young to be our suspect.
Willow came back without a speck of mud on her and we looked over the schedule, next up on the main stage was a musical show and the Jousting Tournament was scheduled in the arena.
“Willow, you pick what you like, but I realized that I can’t ask a suspect if they know Pappy, because they probably didn’t call a fifteen year old boy Pappy right. What’s his real name?”
“I have no idea, Laura. He has been Pappy to me since I was three. Before that I probably just thought he was this long haired man who never failed to make me laugh.”
“Well as soon as the festival is over we should go to his salvage yard, find out his name and see if the names Oliver Maguire, Paloma Evans, Phoebe Oskarsson mean anything at all to him. Hopefully he will recognize a name and we’ll have our prime suspect. Then we can work on neutralizing the threat.”
“How can you do that? I mean it’s not like we can go to the police.”
“No, we can’t. But neither can the person who wrote the note. This is like the old cold war days, between the US and Russia. They had nukes pointed at us, we had nukes pointed at them. They shoot theirs, we shoot ours. Boom goes the whole world. Once whoever wrote that note, wrote it, they lost their leverage because they didn’t think about what they were doing. They handed Pappy proof that they were extorting him. They were committing a crime. When I point that out to them it’s mutually assured destruction, or at least jail. But Eve is a brilliant lawyer, so I think she could get Pappy released. He was only fifteen, that would mean youthful offender. I’ll tell that to the extortionist and it goes from mutually assured destruction to the extortionist is destroyed end of story. The thing is we need to identify and explain this to the idiot extorter before they go to the police. Then it’s in the courts hands and it’s a big thing. We just went through it with Faith.”
“Actually hearing you lay it all out for me makes me feel a lot better, I never even thought about what happens to the extortionist. I just assumed they were doing it for some kind of reward.”
“I don’t think that there is a reward or if there is it couldn’t be much. If it were a large reward, why bother trying to extort a salvage yard owner. They must know that he doesn’t have much money. Also if they haven’t seen Pappy in fifty years they don’t know he’s happy here in Woodstock. If they leave a note like that Pappy could just take off, so they lose the reward. No I think they saw an opportunity but they didn’t think through the legal ramifications for themselves. But like I say, the pressure is still on us to find this jerk before they do something stupid.”
“I still feel a lot better, just knowing what the next steps are, I know that sounds crazy.”
“No, that is not crazy at all, Willow. It is always better to have a plan, it is best to be flexible about that plan. We have a good plan right now. But we don’t have all the information yet. We might have to change the plan, that’s why with each bit of information we get we will refine our plan. But you are young and a lot more flexible then I am so don’t worry.”
Willow went to see the Jousting, So I stayed and watched the music. It was surprisingly good. It was a Blackmore’s Night tribute band called Black Knight. Ritchie Blackmore is such a talented guitarist the poor lead guitarist of this tribute band just couldn't keep up. But he did a passable job and the vocals and the familiar songs really keep me entranced. Usually listening to music my mind just races around from one subject to the next. But this band started out with Shadow of the Moon and their finale was Fires at Midnight.
I want to see them again, so if we could wrap up the extortionist tonight or early tomorrow at the latest. Then we could all enjoy this band together. I know that Amy would probably love them, I’m not sure what Anais will think. She may not like some of the traditional English and German folk songs electrified. Neo-medieval folk rock is what wikipedia calls it. The first time I heard of them it reminded me of Jethro Tull’s Songs from the Woods album.
Then Willow was back from the Joust, the king was there, but surrounded by people. And would be coming our way in about twenty minutes. Besides I realized without knowing Pappy’s real name, I’d have a hard time asking a critical question of the suspects. So the questioning would have to wait until after we had a chance to speak to him. I can’t believe I was so stupid to not ask him a basic question like that last night. I guess police procedures, like taking statements on a form you have to fill out with basic information: name, address, phone number. That can be really helpful.
Amy arrived with news just as Black Knight band came back out for a final encore of “We’re Going to Be Drinking.” They played it three times and the audience sang along louder each repetition. But Amy had news they had discovered another suspect named Jack Weber; he is the Tavern Storyteller. So I added his name to the list in my head. We now had four names to ask Pappy about along with getting his name.
“Amy, where’s Anais?”
“There was minstrel music playing. She wanted to be sure that we hadn’t missed any old people. She’ll meet us here for the closing ceremony. This was so much fun, Laura. What are we doing after it closes?”
“We have to find Pappy and see if he recognizes any of the suspects names we collected.”
Anais arrived reporting that none of the minstrels had met our age requirements. Then the king, queen and the rest of the royal court came onto the main stage. For the Royal farewell. The rest of the performers came out and stood in front of the court. Took their bows to the crowd amid much clapping and cheering. When all of the performers from the lowliest mud person to the Captain of the Knights had taken their bows, the King and Queen bid us all a goodnight. Then the stage was cleared and security started directing people out.
Willow tried calling Pappy to see if he was still at the salvage yard, but it went to an answering machine stating the hours of the salvage yard. It was after hours presumably it was closed. Willow left a message asking Pappy to call so we could meet. Then we all walked back to the collective. Amy and Anais were going to freshen up while Willow and I were going to walk over to Pappy's. It was about a two mile walk from the collective down Old Wagon Road.
It was a beautiful early evening in July, the humidity from yesterday was completely gone, it was in the low eighties and with a slight breeze just perfect for walking. Willow was the perfect walking companion, we walked side by side down a deserted road in comfortable silence like we had known each other for years. Thirty five or forty minutes after we started we arrived at the salvage yard. Abandoned cars as far as the eye could see.
A dog came bounding our way, movies and TV always portray junk yard dogs as vicious monsters with spiked collars and bared teeth, usually drooling saliva. Enough to scare off any would be trespasser. A golden retriever named Fred was charging us, but his tail was wagging so hard you could tell he relished the company. Willow dropped to one knee and Fred almost bowled her over.
First she scratched his head with one hand while she stroked his coat with the other. Then Fred just flopped on his side so she could rub his belly. Then all of a sudden he leapt to his feet and started back toward the building. Clearly Fred has better hearing than me, as he heard the door open, before Pappy emerged from the building.
“What are you two doing here?”
“Why do you even have a phone, or an answering machine for Pappy. You are supposed to listen to them, check the messages. Especially when something is going on.”
“Why, what’s going on, Willow?”
“Pappy, you are being extorted, remember.”
“Yes, but I decided not to worry about it. I know you’ll look after Fred.” Fred barked when he heard his name. “Hell, he likes you as well as me and you are younger and more fun to be around so the thing I was really worried about, I’m not anymore so everything is good. Don’t worry, Willow, everything is going to be fine.”
That’s when I decided to butt in. Clearly Pappy had resigned himself to prison, and was trying to make the best of it for Willow’s sake. But she had recently lost her father to a tragedy, I wasn’t going to let her lose her grandfather figure if I could do anything about it.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“Pappy, we have a decent plan, I believe. But we need your help, too. We have four suspects so far, that may be all of them. So I’ll tell you their names and you tell me if they sound familiar. If we can get to them before they go to the police, I’m almost certain we can stop them. The first one is the King of the Renaissance Festival, a man named Oliver Maguire. Does that name sound familiar from your time in the yippies? He’s also an actor if that helps.”
“No Laura, I’m sorry. I don’t think I ever heard that name before, not in Chicago or Berkeley.”
“That’s alright Pappy, for all I know it could be a stage name he is an actor. How about Phoebe Oskarsson, she is a calligraphy teacher, do you know her?”
“No Laura, I never heard of her before.”
“It’s okay Pappy we have a couple more, how about Paloma Evans, she is British, has a beautiful London accent. Does the name or a British girl mean anything at all to you? She might be five or six years older than you.?”
“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m putting you through all this trouble on your vacation. But I’m sure I’d remember a name like Paloma.”
“There's nothing to say you are sorry about. We did just what we came here to do. We came here for the Renaissance Festival and that’s where we went, we just kept our eyes and ears open is all. All of these names could be stage names. For all we know, everyone of these people may be wanted in some state somewhere for something. I have one more name to run by you. Jack Weber, he’s a storyteller. I haven’t met him yet, but Amy and Anais said he is right around the correct age.”
“No, I haven’t heard of any of these people. I never should have walked up that way, I was just being nosy, wanting to see all the fancy round tents.”
“You are allowed to walk on a public road in your own hometown Pappy, so think back to your time in the yippies, were there any Charlies, Charlenes, Charlottes, Cindys, Chads, Corys?”
“There was a Charles, we all made fun of him because if you called him Charlie or Chas, he’d correct you and say no, it’s Charles. Which was a dumb thing to say to a yippie. They teased him mercilessly. I mean we didn’t take anything seriously, especially ourselves. Well maybe Rubin took himself seriously and maybe that’s why he sold out. It was a shame what happened to him though, getting run down in the street. He should have stayed in San Francisco, I never liked LA to many cars. Weird thing to say for a guy who lives in a parking lot for dead cars, isn’t it.”
“Not at all, I’ll bet a misanthrope would enjoy living in a graveyard. A salvage yard is much nicer, you are on the leading edge of recycling. You breathed new life into my car, with that back window. My friends would refuse to ride with me, if Willow hadn’t repaired it for me. One last thing Pappy, we need to know your real name, so I can ask the suspects if they know you. We might be able to tell by their reaction if they are lying. At least some of them are actors, so some might be better liars than we are at true detection. But we have to try.”
“My real name is Bob, Bob Cazzy, but back then I went by Bobby.”
“Nice to meet you, Bob. Well that’s all we had to ask. We are going to hit the town and see if we can talk one on one with the people we have identified. You think back to any storytellers, calligraphers or actors you might have known in the yippies.”
“Well that’s going to be a problem because aside from calligraphers, most of the yippies were big storytellers, tall tales and that would spill out into street theater. When you really think about it. Yippies were just mad for a Renaissance Festival, we hated rules and would never bow down to a king. But they wouldn’t mind doing it as an act. If they treat the king with deference off of the stage. Then those aren’t yippies. But Rubin turned from yippie to yuppie. If he could I suppose any of us could have.”
“Pappy, I can say one thing for absolute certainty, sir you are no yuppie and if I believed in a god, I’d thank him for that.”
“Thanks Laura, that is very nice of you to say.”
As we walked back to the collective, Willow asked me.
“What exactly is a yuppie?”
“It’s almost the exact opposite of a yippie. Yuppies believe strongly in capitalism, as much as any conservative republican but they are also social liberal. The eighties under Regan were the heyday of the yuppies. Hoffman and Rubin went on a debate tour Yippie versus Yuppie. In essence all that Rubin had rejected as a yippie he embraced as a yuppie. But I don’t see how you can be socially progressive while also being conservative. Conservatives want low taxes to allow capitalism to flourish. Social progressives want health care for all, affordable housing, they don’t want kids to go to bed hungry. The two goals just don’t line up. In my opinion you can’t be both, you can’t have low taxes and universal health care, taxes pay for the health care. The rich don’t care how expensive healthcare is, they can afford it, if they need it. What they don’t need is to be paying for anyone else's health care. The theory that the money spent on taxes would instead be invested in the market, what it did in reality was make the rich, mega rich and the rest of us poorer, year by year. Regan called it trickle down economics, well we both know what trickles down, that’s what toilet paper is used for.”
Anais and Amy were ready for dinner, Willow offered that we eat with the writers collective but we had a mission, to find and question each of our four suspects. So we’d go to a restaurant and then take a tour through the numerous bars in town in search of suspects. To make it quick we ate at the town’s pizzeria instead of the vegan restaurant I would have liked to try. Amy bought me a couple of slices of pizza and I drank water so I continue my cashless summer. I was going to have to think of a way to pay her back.
We made plans while eating, and I reasoned that we would start at the bar closest to the festival grounds. I thought after performing all day the cast and crew might just gravitate there. So Willow directed us to the Muddy Stage.
We were rewarded with a prime suspect, our king Oliver Maguire. He sat at a large round table, he looked older out of make up and he had his arm possessively around the shoulder of his queen who looked even younger out of make up. They looked ridiculous together, but strangely happy. The rest of the people at his table looked familiar; they were probably part of the cast and crew. They were eating so we got a table nearby and waited for them to finish. Before I approached, I didn’t want to get instantly rejected. Paloma had given me the in. I just had to use it.
After their plates were carried away but before they would have a chance to leave. I approached the king.
“Mister Maguire, I’m sorry to disturb you. But I’m a merchant in Lake Placid, I have a large grounds right on Mirror Lake. I was wondering if I might take ten minutes of your time for a business proposal. I was told that you are in charge of the festival. I loved everything that I saw today and I think the people of Lake Placid would as well. My name is Laura Eriksson. I own the bookstore there.”
“Certainly Ms Eriksson, I’d be happy to speak to you,” he turned to the others at the table. “Be off with you, and don’t get too drunk tonight, we have a ten am performance tomorrow.” Then he turned to the queen, “I’ll just be a few minutes queenie, I’ll meet you back at the trailer.” She didn’t look pleased to be dismissed but she did get up and exit the front door. He was clearly smitten. So a little flattery wouldn’t go amiss.
“She’s really lovely. Where did you find her?”
“Yes she is, she’s from Florida.”
“You know, I think I saw you early yesterday morning before I knew you were the king, out on Old Wagon road, by that old junkyard were you getting your steps in?”
“No, it must have been someone else, queenie and I never get out of bed before ten or eleven except on traveling or performance days.”
“Paloma told me you were an actor and I must say you do look familiar, have you been in anything around the Chicago area?”
“I thought you said you were from Lake Placid, oh I am, I moved there almost ten years ago.” I gave him my business card. “Any chance you played in Chicago?”
“No, I’ve never had the pleasure, unfortunately. My entire career has mostly been between Broadway and Boston. But I love to travel in the summer and the Renaissance Festival has been just wonderful.”
“I lived in Manhattan for years, and a really good friend worked at Radio City Music Hall. Bob Cazzy, have you ever met him?”
“No, I can't say that I did. But you wanted to discuss a booking didn’t you?”
He was an actor so I couldn’t be sure, but he didn’t bat an eye when I mentioned Pappy’s name, and he didn’t really have a reason to lie to me about walking on Old Wagon Road. The rest of the time he tried to schmooze me, I think the festival must really need the money he pushed so hard to get a booking. But I put him off and told him I had to check with our mayor, sort out the permits and such. I explained we lived within the bounds of the Adirondack Park, and permits were difficult to get. He didn’t have a card but wrote his cell on the back of one of my cards.
He walked away looking disappointed. I felt bad for deceiving him while getting his hopes up for a booking. It wasn’t his fault that he fell within our age profile. But it wasn’t my fault either that someone in his festival had targeted Pappy. It would be kind of cool to host a festival on the grounds but I don’t want to go through all the paperwork with the town and state and who knows how many other agencies would be involved. Yes I think I would much rather visit a Renaissance Festival than to host one. Speaking of hosting, I wonder how Bianca’s first weekend workshop was going. Smoothly I hope.
I really felt like calling Lucy to see how she was doing but I don’t want her to think that I do not trust her. Because I do trust her, it doesn’t mean I don’t worry about her though. I went back to our table and after the ladies finished their drinks we moved on to the next bar. The Vintage Vibe, well three of us had that vintage vibe. Willow was much too young to be considered vintage in any way. I had clothes older than Willow, Anais went up and brought the drinks. She came back and handed Willow a soft drink and me a tonic water.
“How come you aren’t having beer?”
“I had a dream and someone in the dream told me I was drinking too much. Said I was starting to turn into a noir detective.”
“You don’t let anyone tell you what to do, so why are you listening to some nonexistent person tell you what to do.”
“It was a nonexistent person, in my dream. I am the author of my own dreams. So it was me telling myself that I have been drinking too much and I need to slow down a little.”
“Is that why we haven’t gone out all week, because of your dream? I thought you didn’t believe in all that wu wu stuff.”
“I believe in dreams I definitely do, and if that was a less than subtle way to make myself cut back a bit. Well I hope that I’m smart enough to take my own advice.”
Then Amy piped up. “Remember that time in high school when you had a dream you were going to win a spot on the class trip, then the very next day you actually won. Your dreams have always been weirdly accurate. That was the trip where Mr Hansen threw up all over the stairs into and out of the bus. It smelled like puke for the whole weekend. Why didn’t you go on that trip Anais?”
“My mother thought going to New York City would be too dangerous.”
“We went to see the Odd Couple and the Hayden planetarium and the natural history museum. Probably the most dangerous thing we did was the amount of junk food that we ate. We’d share a hot dog on one corner and a pretzel on the next. I think we even shared a bag of chestnuts. It was fun.”
