The Fatal Funnel Cake (10 page)

But she heard it quite plainly when Joye said, “And now here's the winner of this year's contest! Let's all give a big state fair welcome to Phyllis Newsom!”

Bailey pointed at her. Phyllis grasped the doorknob, turned it, and stepped out onto the set. The lights around it seemed so much brighter than they had earlier, and they made her pause for a split second before she was able to force her muscles to keep moving.

There was no getting out of it now. She was on.

Chapter 13

P
hyllis was surprised by the applause. Of course, the audience was clapping only because Joye Jameson had told them to and because the applause signs were flashing at the sides of the stage, out of view of the cameras, but still, this was the first time in her life that such a crowd of people—and strangers, at that—had greeted her with such enthusiasm.

Her eyes adjusted to the lights as she crossed the stage toward Joye, who held out a hand to her. Phyllis clasped it, but instead of shaking hands with her, Joye hugged her and said with a dazzling smile, “Thank you for being here.”

“It's my pleasure,” Phyllis said, although pleasure wasn't exactly the way she would have described any of the emotions going through her at this moment. Being here did have a certain exhilaration to it, though. She remembered what Bailey had told her about smiling and waving to the audience, so she did that quickly before returning her attention to Joye.

“So you're here to tell us all about your blue ribbon–winning funnel cakes,” Joye said. “First of all, what made you decide to enter the contest? Did you know you'd be going up against some world-class competition in those professional funnel cake concessionaires?”

“Well, not really,” Phyllis said. “I didn't think about the competition, and I certainly didn't expect that I would win. I just thought it sounded like it would be something fun to try.”

“Well, that's a great attitude, I must say! This wasn't the first cooking contest you've been in, though, was it, Phyllis?”

“No, not at all. My good friend Carolyn Wilbarger and I have entered dozens of them over the years, since we've been retired from teaching, and we've won or placed high in quite a few of them, especially Carolyn.”

Phyllis had spotted Carolyn, Sam, Eve, and Peggy sitting in front of the bleachers in folding chairs, and she saw the way Carolyn smiled at the mention of her name. Now people around the world had heard of Carolyn and her cooking skills.

“We're here to talk about you and your funnel cakes,” Joye said, and even though her tone and smile were as bright as ever, Phyllis sensed that she was being scolded slightly for straying off script, so to speak. “Tell us what it is about them that makes them so special.”

Before Phyllis could say anything, a man in the audience stood up and yelled, “They're not special! She's a thief! That blue ribbon should belong to me!”

People sitting around the man gasped and turned to look at him. Phyllis couldn't see him all that well because of the lights in her face, but she recognized Ramón Silva's voice.

Silva began forcing his way through the crowd as he descended toward the floor. He kept shouting about how his funnel cakes should have won the contest.

Other people were yelling now, too. Not everybody knew exactly what was going on, and in this violent day and age, any sort of unexpected public disturbance could provoke a panic. No one knew when some sort of lunatic might pull out a gun and start shooting or try to set off a bomb.

That wasn't Ramón Silva's intention, of course. He was just upset because he'd been defeated by what he considered an amateur, Phyllis knew. But he had the crowd worked up and there was no telling what was going to happen.

Reed Hayes ran out from behind the set, calling, “Security! Security!”

Chet Murdock and the other guard were already in motion. They reached the front of the bleachers at the same time Ramón Silva did. Silva shouted, “My blue ribbon! Mine!” and swung a punch at Chet, who ducked under it and tackled him. Chet probably outweighed the short, slender concessionaire by at least fifty pounds. Silva went down under the impact and crashed onto the first couple of rows of seats with the security guard on top of him.

“That's it for you, buddy!” Chet yelled. “This time you're goin' to jail!”

Silva wasn't fighting anymore. Instead he just lay there and groaned, possibly injured because of the way he had fallen with Chet on top of him. Chet stood up, and he and the other guard hauled Silva to his feet. The members of the audience had all drawn back to give them plenty of room.

Joye left Phyllis standing there beside the counter where the ingredients for the prizewinning funnel cakes were set out and hurried over to Reed Hayes. “Did we get to commercial in time to miss all that?” she asked the producer.

“Let me check with Charlie.” Hayes spoke into his headset, then nodded to Joye. “Yeah, he cut the feed as soon as the guy stood up and started to yell. The viewers probably knew something was going on, but the whole ugly scene didn't go out over the air.”

“Good,” Joye said. “Who let that damned crazy bastard in here, anyway?”

To Phyllis, the ugly words sounded strange coming from Joye Jameson's mouth. She didn't think she had ever heard Joye say anything stronger than
heck
or
darn
on TV. She couldn't blame her for being upset, though. Silva's outburst had almost ruined the entire show.

“I swear, somebody's going to lose their job over this,” Joye went on, sounding furious now. “I can't be expected to put on a show when I'm surrounded by maniacs and incompetents! I don't get paid enough for that!”

“You don't think you get paid enough, period,” Hayes muttered.

“What was that?” Joye grabbed the lapel of his coat. “What did you say to me, Hayes?”

Phyllis tried not to stare. The unflappable facade of the beautiful TV host was definitely showing some cracks right now.

Bailey came up beside Joye and Hayes and said quietly, “The cameras may be off, but you still have an audience full of people out there, Joye.”

That appeared to get through to Joye instantly. She let go of Reed Hayes's coat and took a deep breath. Her expression became serene again, even though she wasn't smiling just yet.

“You're right, of course,” she told Bailey. She turned to face the audience. The people who had come to watch the broadcast were all still on their feet, buzzing with confusion and apprehension, even though Chet Murdock and the other guard had taken Ramón Silva away. Phyllis didn't see them anywhere.

Bailey stepped to the edge of the stage and lifted her voice to say, “Everyone please take your seats! Sit down, please, so we can start the show again!”

Phyllis was a little surprised they were going to continue after Silva's disruption, but she realized she shouldn't have been. After all, the old saying was that the show must go on.

Phyllis hadn't budged from her position during the incident. Joye came back over to her. Even though Joye was smiling again, Phyllis could tell that she was furious. Joye kept her outrage under firm control, however. She lifted her chin a little and said, “Close-up on me, Hank.”

Normally it would be the director who issued orders like that, but Phyllis supposed Joye had the power to override Charlie Farrar if she really wanted to. In any case, the burly Hank pointed his camera right at Joye, who added, “Give me a countdown.”

Hank held up an open hand, closing each finger and the thumb in turn until he had a clenched fist. Joye's smile brightened even more, and as she looked directly into the camera, she greeted the viewers at home by saying, “I hope you'll excuse us for those technical difficulties, folks. You can't put on a show like this without having a few little glitches now and then, I suppose.”

Hank's camera pulled back slightly, probably in response to a command from Charlie Farrar out in the truck.

“Now, you were about to tell us all about those delicious funnel cakes of yours, Phyllis,” Joye said.

Phyllis drew in a deep breath. The audience was settling back down on the bleachers. They had come to see a show, and everyone involved still intended to deliver. Phyllis had no choice but to go ahead, too.

She began talking about getting ready for the funnel cake competition. She explained about some of the different recipes she tried, the ones with pumpkin, chocolate, and fruit. Then she explained why she had decided on the recipe she'd used in the contest. She didn't want to stray too far from the taste of the traditional funnel cake, and the maple pecan recipe seemed to fit.

Joye said, “As you may have noticed, we just happen to have all those ingredients right here on the show, Phyllis.”

Phyllis smiled and nodded, feeling more comfortable now. “I did notice that.”

Joye turned to the cameras and the audience and said, “When we come back, Phyllis and I will be making a batch of those wonderful maple pecan funnel cakes, and a few lucky people from the audience are going to get to come down here and sample them with us on national television. Won't that be fun?”

Applause and cheers came from the audience. The red light on Hank's camera went off.

Joye turned sharply toward Bailey and Reed Hayes, who hurried toward her from the side of the set. “We'll be going into a third segment—” Hayes began.

“I don't care,” Joye said, interrupting the producer. “The first one doesn't really count because of that trouble. I came here today to make funnel cakes, and by God, I'm going to make funnel cakes!”

“Well, it shouldn't be too big a problem, I suppose,” Hayes said. “We have that segment of you riding some of the midway rides coming up, and we can cut it, can't we, Charlie?” He waited to hear the director's response, then said, “Charlie says we can cut it and show it tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Joye snapped. “Just do whatever it takes.”

The commercial break sped by. Bailey told Phyllis, “Move on over behind the counter. You and Joye will be ready to start mixing the batter for the funnel cakes when we come out of commercial.”

Phyllis nodded. She was starting to pick up the rhythm of the broadcast, she thought. Everything about it still seemed odd and unnatural to her, but at least she had a better idea now of what was going on and what was expected of her. She glanced at her friends, who smiled at her and gave her encouraging nods.

It would be all right with her, Phyllis told herself, if she was never on television again.

Hayes said, “We're back in three . . . two . . . one . . .”

The red light on Hank's camera came on.

“We're back,” Joye said, “and my friend Phyllis Newsom and I are about to mix the batter for a batch of her prizewinning funnel cakes. Why don't you walk us through it, Phyllis?”

“All right, Joye,” Phyllis said, figuring she might as well fall into the show's pattern of familiarity. “We're going to mix the batter and then pour it into two inches of hot oil using a funnel. We use a metal ring to keep the batter contained so we don't end up with a funnel cake the size of the pan.”

Phyllis started cracking the eggs and emptying them into the mixing bowl, setting the empty shells in another empty bowl. She started the mixer and she and Joye added the ingredients, explaining to the audience what each ingredient was and how much was used.

While they were doing that, Bailey checked the temperature of the oil and adjusted the burner under the pan that was waiting to one side. Phyllis didn't rush what she was doing, but she also didn't waste time getting the batter mixed, knowing that the oil was already at the right temperature to fry the batter and the metal ring was in the middle of the skillet. She made sure that Joye handled some of the steps, too, having seen
The Joye of Cooking
enough to know that the host always participated in whatever was being prepared.

When the batter was ready, Phyllis said, “All right, we can go ahead and pour our first funnel cake now.” She paused. “Would you like to do the honors, Joye?”

Joye laughed and said, “No, thanks. You're the blue ribbon winner here, Phyllis, so you go right ahead.”

Phyllis had her finger over the opening in the bottom of the funnel, the way the professionals did it. She moved it away and let the batter begin to pour into the hot oil, moving it around and back and forth to form the classic shape inside the ring. Joye kept up a running commentary while she was doing that, but Phyllis focused all her attention on the task at hand and tuned out what Joye was saying. After everything that had happened, she didn't want to ruin the first funnel cake in front of millions of viewers.

When she was finished, she set the empty funnel aside, picking up the tongs instead. “You have to turn it like a pancake or a waffle, right?” Joye asked.

“That's right,” Phyllis said. “The process is somewhat similar. More like a donut since it's fried, but we have to remove the metal ring first.”

She removed the metal ring and set it aside, then grasped the funnel cake with the tongs and turned it over to finish cooking. When she judged it was ready, she removed it from the oil and set it aside to drain and cool.

“We can get another one cooking while we're putting the maple syrup and pecans on that one,” she said.

“This is very interesting. I love watching you work,” Joye said.