The local cops weren’t far behind. They interviewed the folks in the audience, and I watched as, one by one, they were told they could go and the cops turned to one another and mumbled, “That one didn’t see anything, either.”As for the judges, the contestants, Ruth Ann, Tumbleweed, Nick, and I (the one who didn’t belong, but luckily, no one had noticed that yet), we were herded backstage and told to stay put and wait.“This has got to stop happening.” Tumbleweed plopped into a chair and dropped his head into his hands. “People dying left and right. The Showdown’s gonna get a bad name!”He was right, and he didn’t need me to tell him so. I left Ruth Ann holding her husband’s hand and closed in on Nick.“You were out there with the security guys. What are they saying? What do you think?” I asked him.He toed the line between what was considered onstage and what was technically off, stepping closer little by little to where a team from the Clark County coroner/medical examiner’s office studied the bowl of chili at the end of the judges’ table.
