Sara Mason Mysteries Collection

Chapter 5

The Asian Festival took place on the first Saturday in March. It would be the first in a string of celebrations throughout the year as Delta residents paid tribute to themselves and their heritage. Sara never had a chance to attend festivities in her younger years, but that was about to change.

The Asian FestivalHeavy equipment dropped the last concrete roadblock into place where Isleton"s Main Street intersected H Street. The sign on the equipment said Eldon"s Crane and Rigging. Sara smiled and tried to get a look at the operator. She wondered if he might be the same Eldon she knew in school. She could be mingling among former acquaintances and not recognizing them. She wouldn"t hide but didn"t wish to be seen earlier than planned. She wanted to save what surprise she could for the class reunion. Daphine had said gossiping was the same as it had always been. Out of control. So, word that she had returned might get around anyway.

Eldon"s Crane and RiggingSeeing old classmates meant a lot. She wanted them to know she had transcended her downtrodden youthful image. She had also grown an inch taller since graduation. Actually, she had nothing to prove. She came back to carry out a life-long dream of owning a Victorian along the Sacramento River. Still, she had a great surprise in store.

Isleton"s streets and lanes were narrow and crowded. Tall trees shaded every yard. The closeness enhanced the town"s ambiance. Sara found Daphine"s house number and parked under the spreading arms of a couple of old maples.

Daphine came outside to greet her and, not wearing a sweater, wrapped her arms around herself in the chill. “Like a lot of homes in this town,” she said. “This rental"s been refurbished.” She seemed self-conscious about her house. Overall, she seemed happy, but hidden in her more revealing moments of conversation was the fact that she struggled to support her lifestyle. Daphine had moved to Isleton after her divorce and rented the house next door to where the movie actor, Pat Morita, grew up. The Morita home melded in on the block with no signs or markers to show that a famous actor once lived there.

“Spring fever"s hit me,” Sara said.

Daphine"s house was full of art canvasses, supplies, and easels too numerous to count. It looked like she had some exceptional pieces of furniture underneath it all. The house was clean, just cluttered. A tiny, crowded corner of the living room, near the window, looked to be where she did her painting.

“Got lots of these in garage sales,” Daphine said, motioning to half a dozen easels standing in a corner. “Just when I think I shouldn"t buy another, I end up seeing a bargain.”

“Surely, you spend most of your time at your store,” Sara said, teasing and alluding to the crowded space. They felt instantly comfortable with each other, as before when they were teens. The larger bedroom was glutted with storage articles and didn"t invite entry.

“That"s my daughter"s room.”

Daphine nudged her toward the smaller of the two bedrooms, tastefully decorated in pastels of purples and greens. It was the only uncluttered room. In fact, it felt serene and smelled of expensive women"s fragrances. “After all these years, you still favor the same color scheme,” Sara said.

The tiny house was so full of artist paraphernalia, that Daphine had to move a stack of shrink-wrapped canvasses so they could sit. “There"ll be a lot of food up at the fair,” Daphine said. Her kitchen didn"t look used at all. Soon, she grabbed a video camera and a well-traveled leather tote, which served as both a purse and art supplies bag. During the few times, they had been together, since her return, a drawing tablet always stuck out of Daphine"s carryall. When Daphine would see something interesting, she would sketch quickly. It didn"t matter where they were. Ideas to paint later, she would say.

They heard the revelry as they walked toward Main Street at the foot of the levee. Sara pulled her jacket close and was thankful she wore comfortable low-heeled boots.

“You that excited?” Daphine asked. “Slow down.”

Sara"s heart raced. “First-time thrills!” She looked forward to experiencing events she had only heard of when younger.

“More thrilled than when I almost got you a double date for the junior prom?”

“At least now I have something to wear.”

They exchanged glances as they walked along, sharing memories and evaluating where they now found themselves in life.

Booths were set up in every available nook and crevasse along the street with the main attractions being in Old Town. Twelve-foot-long grills were filled with various meats cooking. Smoke billowed, and odors teased the senses.

“Let"s sample them all,” Daphine said, gesturing to some of the booths.

At least one stage was erected on either side of each block. Local talent took turns in the limelight. Bands from Dixon, Sacramento, and Lodi would play. Martial arts masters gave demonstrations and instructed young children. Traditional cultural dances would be performed.

“Mostly, visitors to the area snap up the local arts and crafts,” Daphine said. Every store in town did brisk business. Other groups, like the Humane Society, played to the happy attitudes of people in a relaxed frame of mind to find homes for animals.

Sara stooped down to calm a caged dog, a street mutt of a varied mix. It was less than friendly. Dogs with mean temperaments were always the last ones chosen, if ever. She turned to say something to Daphine and found she had wandered off.

A man"s large hairy hand eased over her shoulder and into the cage to pet the animal. “Oh!” she said, jumping in fright and falling back on her hands.

The man moved aside. “Didn"t mean to scare ya, Missy,” he said, smiling strangely. The gangly man"s waistband was held too high by suspenders, looking like his pant legs were cut for high water. He wore a knitted dark blue skullcap and seemed out of place among the crowd. He reminded her of old pictures of her long-dead mid-west uncles in worn-out farm clothes shrunken from too much washing. The dog continued to bark. “If people looked after their pets, animals like this one wouldn"t have to be put down,” he said in an accusatory tone.

He had a point, but the truth was, this dog had been born and deserved a home. The man moved away as Daphine approached.

Later, Sara and Daphine saw him again. He leaned against the corner of a building groping his genitals as a woman walked past. They looked away before he caught them watching.

“I"d say he has a problem,” Daphine said under her breath. “And it isn"t necessarily on his south end.” Daphine hadn"t changed much. She had always been straightforward. She could be serious and laughable at the same time. Yet, many of her remarks stretched thin her aura of elegance and sophistication.

They saw the gangly man again in another location down the street. Sara caught him watching them, but he turned away quickly. He didn"t participate in any activities, just stood alone watching people and taking long pulls off a cigarette.

After firecrackers exploded and the Chinese dragon parade wound its way out of the area, rolling and thunderous drumbeats sounded.

“Is that what I think it is?” Sara asked.

“C"mon,” was all Daphine said as they hurried back toward F Street. People converged on one of the staging areas where a huge banner had just been hung and announced Taiko Drummers.

Taiko Drummers“I always wanted to bang on those,” Sara said as the drummers warmed up. The Latin music Sara came to understand in the Caribbean taught her much about rhythms. Taiko drumming was high on her list of things yet to experience.

The lean yet muscular, costumed drummers, including two women, beat out a rhythm as they exploited their instruments and choreography. While Daphine filmed a bit and then sat on the curb and watched, Sara found it difficult to stand still.

After they had the crowd enthused, one of the drummers called out, “Who would like to beat on the drums?”

Sara"s arm shot up and she was chosen with others. Daphine positioned herself to film the event. Sara gave it her all and felt entranced.

Afterward, the lead drummer stood in front of her and bowed.

She wanted to scream “Yes! Thank you!” but doing so would be disrespectful. She handed the sticks back and bowed in gratitude.

Yes! Thank you!Once off the stage, a young girl stepped up to her and offered her a pair of sunglasses. “They"re yours,” she said. “They fell off your head.”

Sara bent down to give the girl a hug and watched her timidly run away. Then Sara saw the vulgar man standing in the distance watching.

“Over there,” Daphine said, gesturing discreetly with her eyes in the opposite direction. “Look. That"s Crazy Ike. Stay clear of him. He was investigated for all those murders. Hasn"t been cleared as far as I know.”