“There's nothing we can do right now, and you'll need your wits about you later. Come on," Jane insisted.

She took Sharlene's arm and led her through the fairgrounds. Along the way, she spotted Shelley, who joined them and whispered, "What happened?”

Jane put a finger to her lips and muttered, "Later.”

The mobile home the museum had rented for the staff's use was parked in a shady spot behind the Pea Pod Ride, an ancient, creaking mechanism with baskets fashioned to look like pea pods. The mobile home was large, luxurious, and must have been specially selected for the power of its air-conditioning system; for as the three women entered, they were engulfed in what seemed to them, after being outside, likefrigid air. Sharlene picked through the grocery bags neatly lined up on the sofa for the one with her name on it in red.

“Do you think it's okay if I use the shower?" she asked.

“I'd say it was mandatory," Jane replied with an encouraging grin.

Sharlene smiled weakly and disappeared into the minuscule bathroom.

“What on earth is going on?" Shelley asked the moment the door had closed.

“Sharlene said someone was shot to death out on that field.”

Shelly put her hand over her mouth. "No!”

“She said it was her boss."

“Regina Price Palmer?"

“Yes, Palmer was the name. Who is she?”

“She's the museum director," Shelley replied. "Oh, of course. Her name was in the brochure. That's why it sounded familiar."

“Is she right?" Shelley asked. "Sharlene's obviously in bad shape herself. Could the heat have made her a little loopy?”

Jane shrugged. "I don't know. But something certainly happened. Someone was on the ground with a crowd standing around looking alarmed.”

Just as the faint sound of sirens became audible, there was a sharp knock on the door, and in stepped a young man in farmer's overalls rolled up to his knees, with a straw hat perched on his head of brown hair worn in a long ponytail. "Excuse me, do either of you know where Sharlene Lloyd is?"