I kept a sharp eye on her. If she looked like she was going to take a nip, I planned to snatch the thing out of her hands.
She turned the flask over, running her fingers over the etching on its silver surface. She unscrewed the top. I started edging through the crowd, keeping my eye on Gillian. She lifted the flask to her nose and inhaled. Then she made a face I’m sure she didn’t expect anyone else to see and screwed the top back on. She darted into the VIP tent and reappeared a moment later without the flask. She must have set it down inside for safekeeping.
Just in time. I spied Ryan on the edge of the crowd, completely absorbed in a conversation with Morris Hart. He must not have seen his daughter chatting with Ladd. It was all good. I turned my attention to the field. The caber toss was about to start.
The caber was a long, thin log, easily fifteen to twenty feet in length. Jamie Deakens, a young blond giant with a round face softened by peach fuzz, was the first to toss it. Two of the officials carried the caber to him, and then walked it to a vertical position in front of him, with the narrow end on the ground.
Jamie grasped the caber with cupped hands, about a yard above the ground. He worked his way down the caber, resting its weight on his shoulder, until he could grasp the butt of it and lift it off the ground. He staggered forward, the caber swaying slightly in its vertical position, until he gained control over it. He continued to run until he gave a huge grunt and heaved the caber into the air. It turned over, the thick end hit the ground, and the caber fell with the narrow end pointing away from the athlete. The crowd applauded.
Corgi cheered beside me. “Fantastic throw! He turned the caber on his first try. I’d say it fell at about one o’clock—pretty darn good.”
I stared at him. “It’s well past two. What are you talking about? The caber didn’t go very far at all.”
“The point isn’t for it to go far. The point is for it to flip over—we say he ‘turned’ the caber. Not everyone can turn it. Then it’s supposed to land in a straight line from where he stood when he tossed it. Twelve o’clock, if you picture the face of a clock. Jamie’s was angled a bit off to the right, at one o’clock. Pretty close, if you ask me. He gets two more tries, but I’ll bet he can’t beat that.”
Aileen walked up to stand beside me. “A bunch of overgrown guys are throwing logs around. Sheesh.” She crossed her arms and watched Tom O’Flaherty throw. The caber didn’t flip over. It approached the vertical, only to fall back down to the ground. The crowd sighed in disappointment.
Corgi poked her. “I’ll bet you couldn’t do that.”
Aileen snorted. “If I thought it was important, I’d learn how. Flipping a log over endwise is not important to me.” She struck a dramatic pose, her hand over her heart. “‛No human thing is of serious importance.’” She bowed with a flourish. “Plato, in case you were wondering.”
Corgi and I were still laughing when Ladd approached the caber to take his first turn. He saw Aileen in the crowd and flashed her a thumbs-up. She turned her back on him.
Ladd hefted the caber into his hands and staggered backward, trying to balance it before starting his run. His muscular arms shook and sweat ran down his face. The crowd gasped and parted as he staggered sideways, before finally getting it under control. I tapped Aileen’s shoulder. “Not a good plan to turn your back on a caber in motion.” She turned back around to watch.
Ladd ran a few steps and flung the caber into the air with a huge grunt. It had just enough momentum to flip over and land with a thump on the ground. The crowd cheered. Ladd had successfully turned the caber on his first try.
He hobbled over to the sidelines and bent over with his hands on his knees, panting for breath. He looked to be at least ten years older than any of his competitors. I watched the red slowly fade from his face and wondered if he should maybe think about retiring.
He lifted his head and scanned the crowd. Aileen crouched down behind Corgi. “See you later.” She slipped through the crowd and ducked into the VIP tent, brushing past Ryan King on his way out. Ryan checked and stared at her, the way people always did at the sight of her. He dusted off his arm as if she’d sullied it with her contact, and then he returned to watching the heavy athletic events.
I turned to Corgi in confusion. “I’ve never seen Aileen hiding from anything before. What’s the story between her and Ladd?”
He was as mystified as I was. “I’ve never heard her talk about him. Obviously, there’s some history there. If she wants to talk about it, fine, but I’m not going to pry.”
Smart guy.
It was Patrick’s turn at the caber. I watched his technique to see if he was a match for Ladd. He was an immense man sporting a black goatee and an armful of Celtic tattoos. He grasped the caber with confidence and hefted it to balance against his shoulder. He ran a few steps and threw his hands up in the air, launching the caber. It flipped over and hit the ground with a resounding thud.
After the first round, three out of four of the athletes had turned the caber.
McCarthy stopped by for a quick word as Jamie stepped up to start the second round. “Given up on the bow-tie trade, have we?”
I gave a guilty start and checked the time on my phone. “I guess I should get back to the booth.” The crowd roared, signaling their approval of Jamie’s latest toss. “Or at least I should check in with Letty to see how things are going.” I texted her, to receive the reply: “All’s quiet on the Scottish front. Take your time with the hunks.”
I smiled and tucked my phone into my pocket. “Sounds like everyone is gathered around to watch the show. They’ve probably all got their eyes on you and your camera, figuring wherever you go is the place to be.”
His eyes crinkled up when he smiled at me. “And they’d be right, of course. Which begs the question—what’s up with Aileen that she’s skipping out on these events?”
“You’ll have to ask her, if you dare.”
He shrank back in mock horror. “Not I! I just thought I could quietly get the lowdown from you without having to face the beast. I’m sure you’ll ferret it out of her, being the nosy seamstress that you are.”
With those encouraging words, he turned back to the field in time to snap a series of photos of Tom’s second toss, which just barely flipped over for a successful turn.
Ladd was up next. As he swaggered up to the line, I saw Aileen slip out of the VIP tent and stalk away. Was it possible she had remained hidden until Ladd was fully occupied with his sporting events, when she felt like she could leave? What had Ladd ever done to her to cause her to react to him this way?
Ladd’s second toss went smoother than his first. He gained control over the caber straight away and tossed it high in the air. It turned smoothly and fell in a straight line from where he was standing.
“Twelve o’clock,” Corgi exulted. “That was a perfect toss!”
I looked over at his competitors to see how they took his success. Jamie looked excited and Tom had a worried expression on his face, but Patrick wasn’t even watching. As the announcer called his name to throw next, he emerged from the VIP tent with a scowl on his face.
Patrick practically snatched the caber from the two men who propped it up for him. He hefted it and ran a long ways down the field before launching it into the air, accompanied by a deep, powerful grunt. It flipped and fell a titch to the side, at about eleven o’clock, as far as I could tell.
Ladd called out from the sidelines, “Bonnie Patrick, you throw like a girl!” He simpered and stroked his hair, all the while laughing at the glowering brow of his adversary.
I feared we were about to witness another