“Hey, Greg. Need help with those boxes?” Katie asked.
The deliveryman hefted three of them, his arms extended to their full length, holding them steady by tucking the top one under his chin. “No, thanks,” he said and tipped them up and onto the empty cash desk.
“Still enjoying the route?” Katie asked.
“I sure am. Jerry Murphy always called it a plum assignment. Said the people were really friendly. He was right, too.”
“I was wondering, have you heard anything from Jerry since he retired?”
He shook his head. “Didn’t expect to. But I was hoping he might part with his wheels.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Jerry restores old cars. He’s been working on a ’57 Chevy for the past year. I was hoping he’d sell it to me. I mean, he was going to retire to open a shop and restore cars full-time. What’s he need with a finished car?”
“Yeah,” Katie muttered.
“Gotta go. The route calls,” Greg said and headed out the door.
Katie bit her lip and started back for her office. It bothered her that Jerry had just dropped out of sight. It was crazy to think that he could’ve been the body at Wood U. After all, she thought once more, what would he be doing there on a Saturday night?
“He’s a flirt,” Gilda had said. Had he flirted with Abby Wheeler and Dennis was jealous? Jealous enough to kill the guy?
That didn’t make sense. And there was no proof the dead man was Jerry Murphy or even that it was Dennis Wheeler. And why would Jerry want to kill Dennis anyway?
And there were others who held grudges against Dennis Wheeler. Blake Taylor had set the fire at Wood U as an act of revenge. Nick had only recently returned to McKinlay Mill, and there was no denying he hadn’t gotten over being the brunt of Dennis’s so-called jokes. But the idea of such a nice man—a man who Seth admired enough to participate in his wedding—killing Dennis Wheeler was impossible.
And yet…nothing felt right about that death. The fact that the deceased’s face had been blown apart so that identification would be difficult. Not impossible, but such a delay would give the perpetrator enough time to come up with an alibi, or to make a contingency escape plan. That would explain the intruder hiding at Artisans Alley.
But something was missing from that equation, and what that was, Katie had no idea. Davenport didn’t seem to have a clue either. Maybe it would take Detective Hamilton a year or more to figure it out, because right now the task seemed insurmountable. Maybe they’d never know the whole truth. Maybe there’d never be closure—for Abby, for Davenport—for anyone on Victoria Square. That thought depressed Katie. But then, if she was honest with herself, it really wasn’t her problem.
But it seemed like it should be.
Katie hadn’t been back at her desk for even five minutes before a knock on the doorjamb caused her to look up from her computer screen. Liz Meier, the stained glass artist, stood in the doorway, and Katie could see a couple of blonde-haired beauties standing behind her.
“Katie, there’re some people here to clean one of the shops out front,” Liz said, sounding uncertain.
“Oh, yes. They must be Detective Davenport’s daughters.” Liz stepped aside and the tallest of the young women fingered a wave. “Ms. Bonner? My name is Sophie Davenport. Mr. Cunningham said it would be all right if my sisters and I cleaned the space for our dad’s party.”
Katie stood. “Yes. And please, call me Katie.”
Sophie giggled. “Thanks. These are my sisters, Sasha and Sadie.” The other two young women waved. They looked like identical twins, from their blonde tresses and dimpled smiles down to their matching tops, jeans, and sneakered feet. How did grumpy old Detective Davenport ever produce such beautiful children?
“I’m afraid it’s pretty dusty,” Katie admitted. “It hasn’t been rented out in quite some time. Do you need some cleaning products?”
“We brought everything we thought we’d need, but we can probably use a bucket or two of water, and a place to dump it.”
“Sure.” Katie grabbed her keys from the cup hook that hung on the wall near her desk. “I’ll open it up for you.”
The girls backed up, giving Katie room to sidle past them. Katie led them through Artisans Alley and into the lobby. As Sophie had said, outside the locked storefront were several cartons filled with paper towels, buckets, soap, and other cleaning materials, along with a couple of brooms, mops, and dustpans.
Katie inserted the key in the lock and opened the door to the shop. The air smelled stale. She didn’t envy the girls’ task, but they didn’t seem deterred.
“Wow, what a great space,” Sophie said, admiring the size of the shop, which despite all Fred’s efforts these past few months, had not been rented. “We’d like to put up some decorations. Would it be okay if we put up streamers and a banner?” Sophie asked.
“Sure,” Katie said. “Don’t worry about using tape or tacks. These walls will need to be patched before the next tenant takes over.”
“Thanks.” Sophie leveled a serious stare at her sisters. “Ladies, hop to it. Sasha, you start sweeping. Sadie, follow Ms. Bonner to fill the bucket with hot water.”
Both girls giggled, and saluted their older sister. “Aye-aye, Captain,” they said in unison.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Katie told Sophie as Sadie gathered up the bucket. She led her back to the washroom, where Sadie filled the bucket partway, gave her thanks, and headed back to join her sisters.
What nice girls. Davenport and his wife had obviously been stellar parents to have raised such lovely daughters, who not only seemed to get along, but loved their dad unconditionally.
Katie sighed, wishing she could remember her father. If it weren’t for old pictures, she’d have no recollection of his face at all.
The phone rang, and Katie grabbed it. “Artisans Alley, Katie speaking. How may I help you?”
“It’s Ray Davenport.”
“What a coincidence. I just met your daughters. They came to clean the room for your retirement party. They’re lovely girls.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty proud of them. Their mom was, too.”
Was there a catch in his voice?
He cleared his throat. “But that’s not why I called. I wanted to let you know the Taylor kid confessed to setting the fire at Wood U.”
“I knew he’d been arrested,” she said sadly.
“The kid agreed to plead guilty to that charge, but not to the murder. He swears he didn’t know there was anyone in the building at the time he set the blaze.”
“But we all know Dennis Wheeler’s car was parked out back.”
“Yeah, we do. The kid swears he’s never handled a gun. Yada, yada, yada. But get this, his father owns a Magnum.”
The kind of gun that killed the person at Wood U.
“Can they test to see if it’s the same gun? I mean, did they recover a slug at the scene?”
“A slug?” Davenport repeated. “You’ve been watching too many TV shows, Mrs. Bonner.”
“That’s Katie,” she reminded him.
“Yes. Katie. It’s going to take some time to get used to calling you that.” No more than for her to get used to calling him Ray. “Anyway, what I’m getting these days is just secondhand info. I’m not sure what evidence may have been collected since I worked the case.” He didn’t sound at all hopeful.
“What happens next?”
“They keep investigating.”
They, not him. That had to gall him.
“Dennis Wheeler is still the chief suspect,” Davenport said, “and finding him is their top priority right now.”
“Do you think they’re going to find him?”
“Yeah—one way or another.”
That could take weeks. Time to spring her other theory on him. “What if you wanted to find out other stuff? Do you still have access to DMV records and the like?”
“Why?” he asked suspiciously.
“The Big Brown
delivery guy who served Victoria Square seems to have disappeared.”
“What do you mean?”
“The man suddenly retired. No one seems to have heard from him.” Nobody on Victoria Square, at least. “I want to find out about Jerry Murphy’s car. It seems he restores old cars and he has a 1957 Chevy.”
“So?”
“So…if you knew his address, we could call him and find out the story about his so-called retirement.”
“And why would I care?”
“Because you told me I could come to you with anything.”
“I did, didn’t I?” he said, and didn’t sound happy about it.
“Well, I think there’s a possibility the dead guy from Wood U is Jerry Murphy.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“I’m serious.”
“What’s your evidence?”
“Gut feeling.”
“Gut feeling doesn’t cut it in a court of law.”
“Who said anything about court…yet? Could you just go look up the information, as well as call his former employer to see how he tendered his resignation?”
“How is that relevant?”
“It sure would look suspicious if he didn’t do it in person, wouldn’t it?” The silence on the other end of the line wasn’t promising. Time to pull out the big guns and beg. “Please—as a favor to me?”
He sighed. “Passing myself off as someone working this murder case could get me in trouble. Big trouble.”
“Who says you’re working on the Wood U murder? And aren’t you still officially a member of the Sheriff’s Office until Friday?”
“Technically,” he admitted.
“Then you’d be just looking into why the guy suddenly quit his job.”
“Why am I supposed to tell them I’m calling?”
“Because…a family member is worried? Because his car was illegally parked? I don’t know. You’re the one who’s made cold calls on people for the last thirty-odd years. Use your imagination.” Hadn’t he told her the same thing when he’d wanted her to speak to Abby Wheeler?
She heard him sigh again—heavily. “If I find the time.”
“Thank you for telling me about Blake.”
“Yeah—yeah,” Davenport grumbled.
“But you know, if I’m wrong about Jerry…there are a lot of Dennis Wheeler’s former students still in the area. Students who did not like the man—and with reason.”
“Wait a minute. Are you switching sides again? You just told me you thought the victim was Jerry Murphy. Now you think it’s Wheeler? Lady, make up your mind.”
“I’m trying to keep an open one—at least until the medical examiner actually makes a formal identification.”
“That isn’t going to happen until they can get a DNA match and can rule Wheeler out. Until then…it’s open season.”
“With Jerry Murphy as a suspect?”
“Only to you. Which one of his former students do you think did the deed?”
“I’m not saying I have a suspect. But I’ve heard from at least two of his former students who were picked on by the man.”
“Are you counting your boyfriend among them?”
“Andy’s no killer.”
“So you say. Who’s the other?”
“I’m not going to say. You’re ready to blow off my ideas once again and I’m not going to give you more bait.”
“I’ve been listening,” he said, but she wondered if he’d been rolling his eyes, too.
“Listen, I gotta go. I’ll think about what you said and I’ll talk to you later.” Davenport cut the connection.
Katie hung up the phone. Well, at least he hadn’t just told her to mind her own business. She had to admit he was actively listening to her and not entirely dismissing her ideas out of hand.
She sighed. It was too bad about Blake. Andy wasn’t going to get over this anytime soon. Maybe she should make him dinner once again. If he could get away for even fifteen minutes, it might help him feel better.
She quickly dialed Andy’s cell phone, since she knew the shop was closed and he wasn’t likely to answer that phone.
“Hey, Katie, what’s up?” Andy asked. Katie could hear the whirr of the dough mixer in the background.
“I just thought about you and wanted to hear the sound of your voice. Is that okay?”
“That’s always fine with me,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.
She wasn’t about to mention Blake to spoil that good mood. “I’ll probably drop in later to see you.”
He laughed. “You do every night anyway.”
“I know, but…I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. But I gotta get this dough ready for tonight. Okay?”
“I’m sorry. With all the interruptions I get, I sometimes forget other people are on tight schedules.”
“Thanks for understanding. I’ll see you later.”
“Bye.” She hung up.
Katie heard voices in the vendors’ lounge.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Was that Vance? He sounded worried.
Katie heard the murmur of a soft voice answer him. She got up from her chair and entered the vendors’ lounge. She found Vance standing over Gwen Hardy, who sat hunched over at the table, her head resting in her hands. “Is anything wrong?” she asked, concerned.
“I found Gwen lying on the fainting couch in her booth,” Vance said. “Looks like she passed out.”
“Wasn’t it lucky I had the appropriate furniture just waiting for that to happen,” Gwen said, her voice sounding weak.
“Do you want me to call nine-one-one?” Katie asked, concerned.
Gwen shook her head, looked like she regretted it, and winced. “I was walking security and it was so hot I thought I was going to keel over. My booth was nearby so I went to sit down before I fell down.”
“Would you like a glass of cold water?” Katie asked.
Gwen looked up and nodded, her hazel eyes looking dark against her pale skin.
Katie hurried to the fridge. Luckily the jug was still full, and she grabbed a clean coffee mug from the rack and filled it. She handed the water to Gwen, who gratefully drank it.
“I’m so sorry this happened, Gwen. But you’ve at least convinced me that whether we can afford it or not, that new HVAC system has got to be installed—ASAP. I can’t have customers and vendors dropping like flies on me. It’s time to do something drastic.”
“I hate to say it, but I’ve been waiting weeks for you to come to that decision,” Vance said.
“I’ll call the heating and cooling company and have them come out as soon as they can to fix that air-conditioning once and for all.”
“But how will you pay for it?” Gwen asked, sounding worried.
Katie sighed. “I’ll find the money. Somehow. Will you be all right, Gwen?” she asked, truly concerned.
Gwen nodded. “Katie, please don’t go into hock just because of me.”
She patted the woman’s shoulder. “It’s not just for you—it’s for all of us.”
Katie stormed off for her office and grabbed the phone, but didn’t call the heating company. Instead she dialed another number. “Nick? Hi, it’s Katie. I think I’m ready to part with some of my treasures. When can we talk?”
Eighteen
The scheduler at Beltram Heating and Cooling said they could be out as early as Monday to start work on replacing Artisans Alley’s HVAC systems. Katie had hoped for sooner, but with this heat wave, she was glad they could begin the job even that soon. Next up, she printed out an inventory of what was stockpiled in her storage unit, as well as color photos of the bigger pieces. She had an appointment with Nick in half an hour at the unit and hoped they could come to an equitable price on the whole lot.
She slid the papers into a kraft envelope, grabbed her keys and purse, and headed out of her office. Vance was searching the vendors’ lounge fridge, quietly swearing under his breath.
“Now what’s missi
ng?” Katie asked.
“My brand-new bottle of iced tea. Unsweetened, with lemon,” he groused. He slammed the door. Katie’s warning sign was also missing.
“Sorry about that, but I was just about to have you paged anyway. I need to run an errand. Can you watch over the Alley for a couple of hours? I promise I’ll be back well before closing.”
“Sure. Although I may send one of the walkers out to get me another iced tea.”
“I’ll bring you a gallon jug when I get back.”
“Sounds like a worthy trade-off,” Vance said, his eyes crinkling behind his gold-tone wire glasses. “In the meantime, I guess I can drink—yuck—water.”
“If nothing else, it does quench your thirst.”
Katie took off, heading for the front entrance, but before she could leave the building, she ran into Edie Silver. “Hey, stranger, I’ve been waiting to hear your potluck report for days.”
Edie blushed, almost the color of her tomato-colored polyester top and slacks. “Sorry, my daughter-in-law planned my grandson’s graduation party for last weekend. I helped with the food and got so busy with them I didn’t even have a chance to come in and tidy my booth, and then I had a bunch of appointments this week. I had to wait almost two hours at the doctor’s office yesterday.” She paused to take a breath. “I couldn’t even make it in to pick up my check until today, but that doesn’t mean I’ve been slacking off. Thank goodness for the telephone, because I was able to call everyone on my list and I’ve got everything lined up for Saturday. The tent, the chafing dishes, and plenty of ice and coolers.”
“Great. Thanks, Edie. You and Rose deserve all the credit for this potluck. I’m sure the vendors and the merchants are going to have a wonderful time because of your hard work.”
Edie smiled, her wrinkled cheeks coloring once again. She shook her head, embarrassed. “I see a lot has been happening on the Square and at the Alley since I’ve been gone.”
“Way too much,” Katie admitted.
Edie shook her head. “Poor Mr. Wheeler. His poor wife. And I heard there was a burglar here at the Alley.”
One Hot Murder Page 18
