"Oh, Miss Julia!" Hazel Marie ran out of a dressing room, almost colliding with me. She was in a state. "Sonny's manager just called and Sonny's not going to sing. And he may not even come. And everybody's expecting him to. It's just awful."

"Now, Hazel Marie, they didn't buy tickets to hear him. All they were promised was a beauty pageant, and that's what they'll get."

She threw her hands up, wailing, "Oh, but. . ." Then she whirled away to help Miss Wiggins with another crisis.

I wandered around, dodging excited girls, and found a quiet spot in a hall that led to the classrooms. And that's where I also found Mr. Pickens. He was leaning against a wall, looking as if he'd rather be somewhere else.

I smiled at him. "You don't enjoy bedlam, Mr. Pickens?" He grinned at me, and I went on, "Hazel Marie can't understand why that Sonny person won't sing. Sam's been of help to him, and you're working for him. Looks like he could show some appreciation."

"He's got a broken heart, Miss Julia."

"No more broken than some people's, and we keep on keeping on."

Miss Wiggins stuck her head around the door. "The girls're getting dressed. Can you help?" Then, as Mr. Pickens made as if to respond, she laughed and said, "Not you. Miss Julia."

That was my call to duty, so I went to my post by the clothes rack. I pushed aside a few hands, eager to grab their own outfits with no concern for the others. Each girl snatched hers from me and ran for the dressing room. When only one garment was left for the first competition, I hung my head over it, overcome with disappointment.

"Miss Julia?" And there was Ashley standing behind me.

"Oh, Ashley, thank goodness. Hurry and get dressed, so Hazel Marie can fix your face."

She hung her head and whispered, "I really don't want to do this."

"Yes, you do. Just grit your teeth until time to sing, and you won't have to worry about anything else."

"My grandmother made me come. She said you're counting on me."

"Yes, and you don't know how much." I thrust the garment into her hands.

"I wanted to do it for you, but I'm so scared. Then when Uncle Aaron came, he-"

"Your uncle? He's here?" I looked around quickly, fearing he was about to run out and take control of the microphone to give a press conference.

"Yes, ma'am, and he wants me to do it."

I patted my chest, finding it hard to breath. "You'll do fine. Just remember everything I told you, and it'll work out. Run on now, and get ready."

I rearranged the clothes on the rack, lining them up for the next category change. That would be Personal Expression, and the girls had chosen everything from jeans to jumpsuits, from shorts to sundresses. And all the time, my mind was in a worse jumble than the clothes rack. I had no idea in the world what Preacher Kincaid had in mind to do, nor did I have in mind what I could do to stop him.

I walked out to the side of the stage and peeked around the curtain. The place was almost full, with more people coming in, searching for seats. The Piney Woods Boys-though they were hardly boys-were playing a rousing tune, adding to the hubbub. I saw Sam sitting right below me at the judges' table, along with Tonya and Thurlow. They had their heads together, discussing their scoring method, I assumed. Although Thurlow could've been telling them some long-winded and tasteless tale.

I searched the auditorium for Eunice Knowles, hoping to identify Preacher Kincaid by his proximity to her. I didn't see her, but I saw Helen and Mildred and the Reverend Abernathy and the Conovers and ever so many more. Sam looked up and waved to me, so I quickly pulled back out of sight.

There was only one thing to do. I dashed out to the back hall, where I saw Mr. Pickens just going through the outside door.

Chapter 43.

"Mr. Pickens! Wait."

He turned around, half out the door. "Ma'am?"

"Are you leaving?"

"Just going around to the front."

"Well, listen. I just heard something you ought to know. Aaron Kincaid's here."

"Here? Where?"

"Somewhere in the auditorium. One of the contestants is his niece, and I don't know what to do."

He frowned. "Why do you need to do anything?"

"Because, Mr. Pickens." I took his arm and walked with him out on the stoop, letting the door close behind us. "Because Preacher Kincaid expects his niece to win-expects me to make her win, and the poor thing doesn't stand a chance. And when he finds that out, he's going public about the twenty-six weddings he performed under the auspices of the Holy Ghost, which as you well know is not anywhere near enough to satisfy the legal requirements. We've got to do something."

"Not we. You." He poked his finger at me. Then he grinned. "What do you have in mind?"

"I'm desperate, Mr. Pickens, so here's what I'm thinking. If you'll get the votes from the judges, you can slip behind the curtains on your way up to Binkie at the microphone. I'll be waiting, ready to switch votes with you."

He shook his head. "You don't want to do that. You'll have a riot on your hands."

"Well then, I'm at the end of my rope. I haven't had time to get to Tonya, but I've tried to persuade Sam and Thurlow to favor Ashley. And wouldn't you know, they've both taken the high road, which is easy enough to believe of Sam, but Thurlow is another matter. It makes me mad as thunder for him to suddenly get all upright and self-righteous when he's never been before."

Mr. Pickens looked so deep in thought that I wasn't sure he heard me. "Kincaid's in the auditorium?"

"That's what Ashley said."

"What does he look like?"

"I couldn't tell you. I only saw him the one time, and I wasn't paying attention to his looks. Big man, though, in a white suit." I frowned, trying to bring him to mind. "Black hair, but not much of it."

"I doubt he'll be in a white suit tonight, seeing he's out of the marrying business." Mr. Pickens turned to walk away. "I'll let Sonny know he's here. It's his best chance to catch him."

"No, Mr. Pickens! Don't do that. If that country star comes in with the crew that follows him around everywhere, and they start going up and down the aisles looking for Preacher Kincaid, it'll disrupt the whole pageant. And you know how Hazel Marie gets. She'll be beside herself."

"Right," he agreed. "What was I thinking?"

"Why don't you stand at the back of the audience and try to spot him. He'll be with his mother, Eunice Knowles, if that helps."

"It would if I knew Eunice Knowles."

"Don't be contrary, Mr. Pickens. Just keep an eye out, and find him. And get him out of there before Binkie announces the winner, because it's not going to be Ashley. And leave Sonny Sutton out of it, at least for tonight."

"Can't do that. He's paying me to tell him what I find out." He held up a hand as I started to argue. "Wait, now, let me finish. Sonny's coming, anyway, but nobody's supposed to know, especially the press. He says he's bored sitting around in a motel room."

"My word, he's only been in that motel room half a day. How could he be bored? But if he has to come, you tell him to leave those tagalongs of his somewhere else. It'll be a mob scene if they all come trooping in right in the middle of somebody's talent presentation."

"How about if we stand in the back till it's over, then wait outside for Kincaid? Sonny knows what he looks like, so he'll spot him when he comes out."

"Just be sure you wait till it's over, whatever you do. And, Mr. Pickens, please don't let that preacher say anything. He's going to be so upset about Ashley, and even more upset when Sonny catches him, he might start naming names and pointing fingers right there with half the town listening in."

He grinned and waved, which I took for agreement, as he went down the steps and on around the building. Hurrying back inside, I realized that the pageant had begun. Sheriff Frady's voice reverberated through the back of the stage, as he welcomed the audience and thanked Hazel Marie and "all those who pitched in to help her."

The contestants were lined up, waiting for their first entrance. All except Ashley, who was still being worked on in the dressing room. A burst of applause greeted the appearance of Deputy Ray Fields and Deputy Max von Rippen, as the canine unit walked out on the stage for a demonstration of their partnership.

I peeked into the dressing room, where Hazel Marie was doing something to Ashley's eyes, while Miss Wiggins pinned up her hair. "You look beautiful, Ashley," I said, hoping the girl could hold herself together for a while longer.

"There," Miss Wiggins said, with a last thrust of a bobby pin. "Stand up, so we can get your sash on. Now, go get in line. We've put you last, so you have plenty of time."

Ashley gave me a frightened glance, as she walked out with bent head to take her place. Then Lieutenant Peavey's astounding tenor took over in a rendition of something I didn't know.

Hazel Marie, Miss Wiggins, and I went out to stand by the girls as they waited their turn to be introduced. They were all jittery, excited, and nervous by turns. Ashley looked stiff and frozen, like she was going to her doom. I put my hand on her arm to reassure her. It was a shame that so many people were putting the girl through such a trial, and if I'd let myself dwell on it, I could've regretted having any part in it.

After the applause for Lieutenant Peavey and his exit from the stage, Binkie took over. "And now, what we've all been waiting for-the contestants for the crown of Miss Abbot County Sheriff's Department! Let's have a big hand for each one."

She didn't have to urge them, for the audience was ready.

"Melanie Easley, Miss First Watch!" Binkie yelled, dragging out the syllables, and out went the first one to great acclaim. "YoShandra Washington, Miss Detective Squad! Ta-a-sha McKenzie, Miss Second Watch! Hea-a-ther Pea-a-vey, Miss SWAT Team!" Binkie had to wait for the whistles and yells to die down, for Heather was clearly the audience favorite. That might have been because her daddy was there. "Bethany LaVane, Miss Vice Squad! Oops, careful there!"

Hazel Marie whispered, "Oh, no! Bethany tripped. It's okay, she's all right."

I thought Ashley would faint dead away at Bethany's stumble, but Binkie carried right on, "And Ashley Knowles, Miss Third Watch! That's it, ladies and gentlemen. Just look at this lineup, and let them know how much we appreciate them."

Things went from fast to faster after that, with the girls running offstage, tearing off one outfit and pulling on another. I didn't have time to worry about anything, being so taken up with zippers and buttons and ties and the occasional safety pin. Before I knew it, they were going through the Expression of Personality competition, wearing their own choices of playwear. Each contestant went out alone to tell Binkie, for the edification of all, about her platform. Having heard all the grandiose ideas before, I was happy enough to help Miss Wiggins bring a semblance of order to the dressing room.

Hazel Marie came flying in. "I just feel so bad for Ashley. She was terrified, and even though Binkie practically put words in her mouth, it was pitiful to watch. And Heather got the giggles so bad that she never did tell about her platform. Tasha, though, sounded so professional. She didn't miss a beat."

My heart sank for Ashley. I hadn't expected her to excel, but I had hoped for better than she'd been able to do. I didn't have time to mourn the lost opportunity, though, for the girls were coming back in for another change.

Next up was the Physical Fitness competition, and out the girls went in nothing but smiles and the skimpiest of bathing suits, none of which would ever see water nor hold up in it if they did. This display of so many young women in so little clothing created havoc in the audience, accompanied by whistles, stamping of feet, and several uncalled-for catcalls.

In spite of all my signals to her, Ashley couldn't bring herself to smile even once as she walked out on the stage, down the runway and back again. She went through the motions with a grim expression, slumped shoulders, and nowhere near the smooth, scissoring walk that Miss Wiggins had shown them.

Finally, when the talent competition started, I had a chance to watch from the sidelines.

Binkie announced Miss LaVane, who played the piano with an excess of body movements, leaning over the keyboard, then throwing her head back as the music swelled. The audience appreciated her efforts, in spite of a few missed notes, and she came off, smiling. Then Miss Washington high-stepped her way onto the stage, looking trim and smart in her majorette uniform. She amazed me with her twirling batons, spinning them back and front, throwing them up and catching them on a spin, all to the rousing tune of a Sousa march. The only mishap was when she threw a baton way up into the rafters and it stayed there, hung up on some ropes. Miss Washington hardly missed a beat, just went right on with one baton. She did move to the side, though, just in case.

"It's still up there!" she whispered to Hazel Marie, as she came offstage.

Heather was next, and her selection, according to Binkie, was a Faith Hill song. Heather was every bit as good as her father, except for having to hum a couple of lines she forgot.

After her, Melanie Easley was announced, and Little Lloyd eased up beside me to watch her. It worried me that he was so taken with an older woman, and it worried me even more that the older woman was encouraging him. Miss Easley did what she called an original lyrical dance to the tune of Celine Dion's "Power of the Dream," and she did look dreamlike in a filmy lavender costume and ballet slippers. I didn't know much about dance moves, but it seemed to me that she worked her hands more than her feet. She did a lot of running on tiptoe, but hardly on the very tips of them. Still, the music set a mood, and the audience was absorbed in watching her-until Miss Washington's baton fell to the stage with a clang. Miss Easley came off the stage in tears, raging at Shandra for spoiling her moment.

Tasha McKenzie took her place on a dark stage, lit by only one spotlight. She wore a long-sleeved, high-necked black dress that made her look spectral. That was the idea, I supposed, since her original poem, declaimed with great emotion and dramatic hand-wringing, was about the loss of life on Interstate 85, due to Jim Beam, Pall Malls, and a lack of commitment to Christian values.

Then it was time for Ashley. Miss Wiggins had done a good job on her, dressing her in a long, full calico skirt and a peasant blouse, with her hair brushed out, full and flowing. She gripped her guitar hard enough to untune it, which was something else for me to worry about. As the stagehands lowered the scrim and set up spotlights, I eased up beside her. "Don't pay a bit of mind to all those people out front, Ashley. Just pretend you're back in my pantry, singing for Lillian and me."

She nodded, or trembled, I wasn't sure which, then walked out on the dark stage. She took a seat on a make-believe rock with a mountainous backdrop behind her. By this time, the audience was beginning to murmur and rustle, impatient for the next performance. But all that ceased as the lights came up, and the hazy tableau opened before them. As Ashley strummed the first notes on her guitar, not another sound could be heard. And when she lifted her voice in a plaintive rendition of "O, Shenandoah," well, everybody knew they were hearing something rare and beautiful.

When the last notes died away, the applause nearly lifted the roof. Shouts of "More" and "Encore" rang out, as Ashley dashed to the sidelines. Binkie joked with the crowd, telling them they'd have to pay extra for a second helping. Hazel Marie hugged Ashley, and Miss Wiggins could hardly contain herself. Ashley had more than justified her place in the contest. I managed to get close enough to show my approval, while she cried with what I assumed was relief.

So then the judges went to work, while the girls came out of their costumes and donned their evening attire. Ashley was still trembling, but she was finally able to smile now that the worst was over.

As we waited for the judges to determine their choices, Binkie introduced Latisha.

That little girl skipped out to the middle of the stage, completely unafraid and ready to perform. Lillian stood by me, wringing her hands. "No tellin' what she do, Miss Julia."

"The audience loves her already," I said. "Just listen."

To great applause, Latisha spread her little red dress, curtsied, and nodded to the band. Then, as the music started, she commenced to sing "This Little Light of Mine," complete with hand motions, but minus a microphone. Her piercing voice had no trouble projecting to the farthest reaches of the auditorium, as she sang one verse after another. Then when I thought she couldn't think of another place for her light to shine, she broke into an all-out tap dance. Lillian gasped and hid her face, but the audience was clapping in time and Latisha was giving them a show.

At last, Binkie appeared on stage, holding a paper with the judges' decision. She gave the band a signal to wrap it up, which was probably the only way to bring Latisha to a close.

As the music stopped, Latisha announced, "You ready for another one?"

The audience clapped and yelled, but Lillian had had enough. She marched out onstage and swept her up and off, with Latisha shouting, "But I'm jus' gettin' started!"

"Well, you finished now," Lillian said, setting her down out of sight of the delighted audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Binkie called out, "Here they are again!" At the prompt, the contestants, lovely every one in their rented evening gowns, went out onstage. "Now, for the big moment," Binkie went on. "And the judges' decision. The second runner-up is . . . Ashley Knowles, Miss Third Watch!"

I had to lean against the wall, so surprised that I could hardly catch my breath. She placed! But, Lord, would that be enough to keep Aaron Kincaid quiet? And as I realized how close Ashley had come to the crown, I could've shaken her. If she'd put more effort into her appearance and her poise in the spotlight, if she'd been able to show her personality more, why, she could've won it all.

But she hadn't, and that was that. All my efforts on her behalf and, I admit, on mine, too, had been for naught. So close, but not close enough. Was I looking at another sign, warning me away from Sam? Or did her third-place showing simply mean that she hadn't stood up straight?

I decided right then and there that the Lord would have to do better than send these signs that lent themselves to various interpretations. I needed something plain and clear, and until I got it, well, I wasn't going to stand around and wait for the clash between Sonny Sutton and Preacher Kincaid to make headlines and put us on Entertainment Tonight.

I didn't wait to hear the rest, but Binkie's voice followed me. She announced the first runner-up: YoShandra Washington, Miss Detective Squad, and finally, to great anticipation by the audience, the new Miss Abbott County Sheriff's Department: Tasha McKenzie, Miss Second Watch.

Sam was certainly going to hear from me about that. I'll admit that Miss McKenzie had made a competent showing. Well, to be honest, she'd done better than that. She had excellent bearing, thanks to her modeling classes, and had expressed herself with confidence and poise, but as she began her victory walk down the runway, crown awry on her head and arms full of roses, I knew Sheriff Frady had a loose cannon on his hands.

But that wasn't my problem. My problem was Aaron Kincaid and Sonny Sutton meeting up in a public forum, and, as the lights came up, I decided that the time had come to terminate this neither-nor state of affairs.

Chapter 44.