Katie turned to head back to the tag room.
“You won’t find her there,” Rose called, and Katie stopped, turning to face the older woman.
“Where is she?”
“Out in the parking lot in front of the entrance.”
Katie blinked in disbelief, but instead of commenting, she turned and hurried out the vendor entrance, her annoyance building with every step.
She burst through the doors to the parking lot to find Ida, dressed in long pants and a long-sleeved shirt, holding a sign and marching up and down in front of the building. The sign said: BOYCOTT ARTISANS ALLEY—UNFAIR LABOR PRACTICES.
Unfair labor practices! For asking the woman to dress appropriately? And there she was—clad in warmer clothes, risking heat stroke. Didn’t she know anything about dressing for the weather conditions?
“Ida, what do you think you’re doing?” Katie demanded.
Ida kept up her pace. Five steps toward the north, pivot, five steps toward the south. “Protesting.”
“What for?”
“I want my job back!”
“We’ve been over why you were asked to leave. You took my heater and refused to dress appropriately for the temperature in the tag room.”
“I’m dressed appropriately now.”
“But could I trust you to do so tomorrow?”
Ida didn’t answer. Instead, she kept on marching.
Katie resisted the urge to throw her hands up in disgust, but turned and went back inside the building. Rose was standing just behind the door. “Aren’t you going to try and stop her?”
“I’ve learned from bitter experience that talking to Ida is like talking to a rock. She can’t be persuaded to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”
“But it’s already awfully hot out there, especially standing on the tarmac. She doesn’t have a hat on. When the sun gets higher, she could get heat stroke.”
Somehow Katie managed to hold on to her temper, but she couldn’t think of anything to say to improve her standing with Rose, with Ida, or with anyone else. “Then maybe you should lend her one. There’s cold water in the fridge, too. If you’d care to give her some, I’m fine with it.”
“But—”
Katie held up a hand to stave off any more discussion. “I’m going back to my office. If you want to offer Ida any other assistance, I’m fine with that, too. But as far as I’m concerned, the discussion about her is over.”
Rose nodded, her pale blue eyes looking watery. After their discussion the previous day, Katie hadn’t thought Rose had much more tolerance for Ida than she had herself.
No sooner had Katie returned to her office than Detective Davenport showed up at her door.
“What happened with your former, now disgruntled, vendor? Collective bargaining fall through?” he said and laughed, although his expression held no mirth.
“We had a disagreement about taking and using other people’s property without permission, among other things. I’d much rather talk about why you’re here.”
Davenport shrugged. “Just doing my job.”
“You’ve been hanging around McKinlay Mill quite a bit since the fire. Taking a more in-depth interest than usual, Detective?”
“I told you—this is my last case, Mrs. Bonner.”
“Why now?” Katie asked. While she’d suspected in the past that Davenport’s seeming lack of interest in his cases was due to being burned out or a short-timer’s attitude, she also knew that he had three daughters. Daughters in college—or about to go to college. That took money. “You still haven’t told me what you plan to do next.”
Davenport actually managed a wry smile. “A little of this, and a little of that. But I’ve only got four days to wrap this up, and the Taylor kid has gone to ground. His parents say they haven’t seen him since Sunday afternoon.”
Katie’s gut tightened. Could Blake have been the one to break into the Webster mansion and leave the food wrappers? He would have had to move on now that work had commenced on the house.
“I suppose you want to pick my brains because Andy Rust—Blake’s boss—is my boyfriend.”
“It couldn’t hurt,” he admitted.
She sighed. “Andy believes the boy is one hundred percent innocent.”
“And how about you?”
Katie hesitated. “I hope Andy’s right. He’s got a lot of faith in the kids he hires. I’d hate for his trust to be misplaced.”
“So he said.”
“Have you looked into the allegations that Dennis Wheeler bullied his students?”
“I’ve spoken with the school principal. It’s a possibility one of the kids took his revenge, but it’s not the only angle I’m looking at.”
And Katie would bet he wasn’t going to share that angle with her either.
He eyed her, his mouth twisting into a frown. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you want to tell me about the fire or what’s happening on the Square?” he prodded.
“Only…” She sighed, resigned, and then told him about her walk through the Webster mansion with Nick and Don.
“Why didn’t someone report this?” he demanded angrily.
“I suggested they do just that, but I haven’t spoken with them since yesterday so I have no idea if they did. And who would make the connection anyway?”
“Crap. Whatever evidence was there is probably sitting in that Dumpster. I’ll head on over there right now.”
“If I hear of anything else, I’ll give you a call,” she promised.
“I’d appreciate it.” Davenport gave her a parting nod and hightailed it out of her office.
Feeling as though she’d just betrayed Andy, Katie sat down at her desk and wondered what to do next. She didn’t have time to ponder the question long because a knock at the door drew her attention.
“Got a minute?” Vance asked.
“For you? Always.”
Vance entered Katie’s tiny office and parked himself against her file cabinet. He crossed his arms over his golf shirt. That defensive posture didn’t bode for a happy conversation. “About Ida…”
Katie closed her eyes and hung her head, wondering how much it would hurt if she pounded it against the top of her desk. Probably no more than the throbbing headache Ida had already given her with her disruptive nonsense.
A warm hand touched her shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, I know exactly how you feel.”
She looked up at him and could see he was trying not to laugh. It didn’t make her feel better. “Tell me how Ezra used to deal with her.”
“He let her do anything she damn well pleased, and maybe you should, too.”
“I’m not Ezra, and I can’t run Artisans Alley the way he did.”
“I realize that, but she’s a demented old lady. She’s got no life, she’s got no friends, and she’s got nowhere else to spend her time. Like it or not, we’re all she’s got.”
“I don’t like it.” She sighed. “I’m not a complete monster. I do feel sorry for the woman, but she obviously has a lot of problems—something we’re not in a position to deal with or correct.”
“That’s true,” Vance agreed with a nod.
Again Katie sighed. “What is it you want me to do? Take her back?”
“Eventually.”
Katie raised an eyebrow. “And in the meantime?”
“I’ve got an EZ-UP tent in the back of my truck. She can sit under that so she doesn’t get heat stroke, and if we park it near the vendor entry, it’ll keep her from blocking the front entrance.”
Katie thought it over. It was a reasonable compromise—for now. “How long do we put up with this?”
Vance shrugged. “She’s stubborn. She may never give up.”
“Then maybe we’ll just have to find her another job. Somewhere she can go on a daily basis. Something she can do that will give her a sense of purpose—something more than just taping tags on sheets of paper.”
“Great idea. Are you willing to do it?”
“I have more important things to do with my time, but if I want her off my hands, it looks like I’ll have to do something.” She frowned. “I do feel sorry for her, but she’s really not my problem,” Katie reiterated.
“As long as she’s picketing outside of Artisans Alley, she’s definitely your problem,” Vance said.
Why did he have to be right all of the time? Perhaps that was why she counted on him—for advice and for his friendship.
Katie nodded. “Okay. Put your little tent up. When you’re ready, I’ll help you take a table and chair out to her.”
He waved a hand aside. “I figured you’d say yes. I already set it up and took out the chair and table. She’s sitting there like the Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland.”
“Lovely. I suppose next she’ll be advising people to come after me—off with my head!”
Vance stroked his beard thoughtfully. “She’s already doing that.”
Katie rolled her eyes. “Swell.”
Katie found it hard to concentrate that afternoon. Her mind kept flitting to various subjects: Dennis, Blake, the upcoming potluck dinner, the demolition going on at the Webster mansion, and the menu for her dinner with Andy later that night. She made the latter her top priority, and wrote out a grocery list for later.
Too restless to work, she got up and made a circuit around Artisans Alley. Her vendors were right. You could go from blazing hot to searing cold walking the length of the long aisles of booths. The ducting for the air-conditioning had been concealed in some areas and was exposed in others. It had been a sloppy, inadequate job. She wondered who had done the initial work but hadn’t been able to find any of the paperwork in her files. Then again, she had tossed out a lot of the decades-old papers when she’d first taken over, before she knew what to save and what to keep. It didn’t matter in this case, she’d contacted a trusted firm with more than seventy years of experience. If she had the work done, she would go with them.
If she had the money to do the work, she would get it done in a heartbeat.
You could have the money, the voice inside her harped. She ignored it. Or tried to. Living in denial. Yes, that’s what she was doing—and quite well, too, she decided.
As she made her final round of the second floor, she neared the large storage closet where her late husband had lived illegally during their months of estrangement prior to his death. Ezra had called it Chad’s Pad. He’d called her on a number of occasions and asked her to come and claim Chad’s belongings, but she never had. And when she’d taken over Artisans Alley, she’d left everything as it was. If they pulled down the walls, they could make room for more vendor space, she decided. Since she currently had four empty booths, that could wait awhile—and for cooler weather in the fall. But since she expected to fill that vendor space before the holidays, she thought it might be a good idea to list that on her calendar for a day in September. She tried the door handle and, as expected, found the room locked. Good.
Katie trundled down the steep back stairs and made for her office, finding the mail had been delivered and someone had stacked it neatly on her desk. On top of the pile was a handwritten note with one word written on it: “Ida.”
Katie glanced at the clock. It was nearly four. She’d been a good sport about letting the woman demonstrate, but it was time for Ida to end her protest for the day. The problem was, Ida wasn’t going to listen to Katie. She needed an ally to convince the woman to go home. Was Vance still around?
Without even looking at the mail, Katie headed for the front of the store, where Rose was taking a break, reading one of her romance novels. “Rose?”
Rose held up a finger as her gaze dodged back and forth across the page. Then she grabbed her bookmark and slammed the book shut. “That rotten scoundrel,” she said and shook her head. “Of course all will be forgiven in a couple of chapters.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Katie said. She had no problem with her cashier reading when there was nobody to wait on. Rose did, after all, put in more time at Artisans Alley than any other vendor. Well, except for Ida, but that was another—unhappy—story. “Is Vance around?”
Rose shook her head. “He had to leave for the day. He said he’d see you either tomorrow or Thursday. He’s not scheduled to work again until then. Is there a problem?”
“Yes, it’s Ida. I’d like her out of here and Vance’s little tent down before we close tonight.”
“That could be a problem. I’m not sure I know how to take down an EZ-UP.”
“Me either. I’d hate for it to blow over and get ruined or for one of us to break it.”
“Are you sure Vance didn’t think about it before he left?”
“I don’t know. I found a note on my desk that just said ‘Ida.’ I assumed she was still out there.”
“You’d better go out and look.”
Katie frowned, and headed out the door. Sure enough, the EZ-UP was gone, and so was Ida. But where she’d sat was covered in trash. Empty coffee cups, candy, and fast-food wrappers. It looked like Ida had also taken her petty ire out on a few of the begonias that were planted in front of the shrubbery.
Frustrated, and with growing anger, Katie picked up the mess and threw it away. She watered the flowers, but had little hope they’d revive. And what was she going to do if Ida showed up in the morning? Threaten to have her evicted by the Sheriff’s Office? She might be able to level charges of trespassing and malicious mischief, but that might only incite Ida to attempt more petty revenge. Perhaps Vance was right. She needed to find Ida something else to do with her time.
But what?
Eleven
Although the local grocery store was fine for most of what you’d want to fill your larder on any given day, their seafood department was hardly impressive. Katie didn’t want to buy frozen scallops for the dinner she planned for Andy, so after closing Artisans Alley for the day, she drove to the neighboring town of Greece and hit their biggest and best store. Since she was already there, she decided to do her shopping for the week, and spent far more than she usually would. Maybe it was better to stick to her home grocery store after all.
When she’d been married to Chad, Katie had been too busy working and going to grad school to care about cooking, but she found she enjoyed making dinner for Andy, who seemed to appreciate the effort she put into the meals they shared. On the other hand, maybe he was as sick of eating pizza and calzones as she was and just didn’t want to offend her.
Upon her return home, the cats greeted her with tales of starvation and she fed them before she began preparing her own meal. Mason was particularly fond of seafood, and would bother her to no end if she didn’t make sure he was already satisfied before she took out the scallops to get them ready for the oven.
Food prep always relaxed her—and after what she’d put up with that day from Ida, she felt she deserved a nice quiet evening. Of course, the strawberry wine cooler she downed helped not only to keep her cool, but also to reach her quiet zone even faster as she puttered around the kitchen for more than an hour. She had everything ready at the appointed time, and though Andy was ten minutes late in arriving, that was okay. After all, she had nowhere to go, and it wasn’t like she didn’t know where he was.
She took another wine cooler out of the fridge and cracked the screw cap. She took a sip and then pressed the sweating glass container against her flushed cheek. It felt wonderful. If only she had a life-sized bottle to sidle up against, she would be cool—and keep cool—in no time flat.
She heard footsteps on her stairs and went to the door to open it. “Greetings, and welcome to my most humble abode,” she said, and leaned forward to give Andy a kiss. His face was just as flushed as her own, with sweat beading his forehead.
“Sorry I’m late. We had a rush—”
Katie pressed a finger against his lips to silence him. “No shop talk tonight, okay?”
He laughed. “You got it.” He stepped into the kitchen and sniffed the air. “Something smells good.
Is that garlic in the air?”
“Yes. Sit down and I’ll get you a nice cold beer.”
“I could use one after the day I’ve had.”
She shook her finger at him. “No shop talk. Remember?”
He nodded, took a seat at the small table, and accepted the bottle from her. He opened it, taking a long drag. “That hit the spot. Too bad I can’t have more than one.”
“Mustn’t be a bad influence on the boys,” she said, referring to his band of high school misfits in the shop below.
He shook his head, his lips pursing, and for a moment Katie thought he might cry. She took the seat opposite him. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Blake. One of the boys told me he keeps a small gas can in the trunk of his car.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Yeah…and convenient—if you want to start a fire.”
In that hot kitchen, Katie suddenly felt cold. She wasn’t sure how to respond.
“It turns out Blake has had a fascination with fire since he was a kid.”
“He’s still a kid,” Katie insisted, but Andy shook his head.
“He’s eighteen, and I’m scared shitless he might go to jail as an arsonist.”
“He’s been caught before?” Katie asked. Andy nodded. “How many fires are we talking about?” she asked, dreading the answer.
“Five that are documented.”
Katie’s heart sank. “Oh, Andy. I’m so sorry. I know how hard you’ve tried to reach these boys, and you’ve had a wonderful success rate—”
Again he shook his head, and then took another long swallow of beer. “I knew he was a troubled kid, but nobody told me about the fires.”
“Has he been arrested?” Katie asked.
“I don’t know. He didn’t show up for work tonight. Nobody’s seen him since Sunday night, and his parents are worried sick. Things don’t look good. If this had been his first offense, he might be sent for therapy, but he was caught starting those other fires. And he lied to Detective Davenport about his whereabouts on the night of the Wood U fire.”
“Where was he?”
“I’m not sure. I heard that secondhand from one of the other boys.”
One Hot Murder Page 11
