Chapter Five: Marla’s Kitchen
Evan crossed the street that afternoon without a phone or a camera.
Marla opened her door on the chain and stared at him as though she expected him to be carrying a weapon.
“I don’t want a fight,” Evan said.
“Then go home.”
“Nolan gave you the axe.”
Marla’s hand tightened on the door.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Iris filmed him.”
The color drained from Marla’s face.
She glanced behind her toward the kitchen, where a kettle whistled on the stove.
“You shouldn’t have let that girl film anything,” she whispered.
“Why did you destroy my mailbox?”
Marla swallowed.
“Because he said your wife would be at the pharmacy, and you would come running out when you heard the noise.”
“Who went into my basement?”
“I don’t know.”
Evan believed her because she looked genuinely startled.
“He told me you had something that belonged to my husband,” Marla said.
“Your husband died last year.”
“I know when he died.”
Her voice cracked with sudden anger.
“He worked on that festival, and Nolan says people still think he stole their money.”
Evan remembered Marla’s husband, Dennis, hauling folding tables through the rain and refusing payment for his labor.
“I never thought Dennis stole anything,” Evan said.
Marla pulled the chain free and opened the door.
On the kitchen table lay a stack of unopened sympathy cards and a photograph of Dennis standing beside a painted blue trolley.
Someone had circled a face in the background with black marker.
The face belonged to Nolan Price.
Chapter Six: A Different Kind of Witness
Marla told Evan that Nolan had visited her the previous evening with a story about Dennis’s reputation.
He claimed a missing festival banner proved Dennis had accepted cash from vendors without recording the payments.
He also claimed Evan had hidden the banner in his basement to embarrass the Voss family.
“I asked why he hadn’t gone to the police,” Marla said.
“He told me the whole thing would become public if I made a report.”
Evan looked at Dennis’s photograph again.
“Did Dennis ever tell you what happened at the festival?”
Marla nodded slowly.
“He said Nolan was selling the same spaces twice, and he said somebody was going to get hurt if the crowd arrived.”
“Why didn’t he say anything afterward?”
“He did.”
Marla crossed to a cupboard and brought out a cracked red thermos.
“He stood up at a committee meeting and accused Nolan in front of everyone.”
Evan remembered that meeting only vaguely.
It had ended when a fire alarm emptied the community center.
Marla twisted the lid from the thermos and poured out a handful of small brass tags.
Dennis had collected them from the folding tables he rented for the fair.
Each tag carried a booth number, a date, and a vendor’s initials.
“Dennis said these were the only things he trusted,” Marla explained.
Evan arranged the tags on the table.
Several carried identical booth numbers but different initials.
They proved the overlapping assignments had existed before the event began.
They did not prove who collected the money.
Marla watched him sort the tags.
“I thought smashing your mailbox would stop him from talking about Dennis,” she said.
“Now I think he wanted me arrested before I could talk.”
