Fatal Festival Days

by Jamie M. Blair

  “Thanks, Soapy, that’s so thoughtful.” I stood and took the bag and set it next to the popcorn. “Come on in and sit down. Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “No, no. I just wanted to bring something by. I don’t want to disturb you.”

  “You’re not disturbing us,” Ben said, gesturing for Soapy to sit on the loveseat. “I’ll get you a drink.”

  “Okay then,” he said and sat down. “But I won’t stay but a few minutes. So what’s going on? How did those pills end up in your purse?”

  I told him the story. “So we have to hope the judge believes me.”

  “Hmm … ” Soapy tapped his lips. “Or we get Lana to confess.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “That’s the crux of it, isn’t it?” Carl said.

  “It is, but we’ve known Starnes and Lana long enough to find their weaknesses. We’ll think of something.”

  “Not the moonshine,” I said. “It seems everyone already knows about that.”

  “It’s not enough of a charge to stick. Not enough to confess to murder to get past. That’s like trading in a Mercedes for a broke-down Ford. But there must be something we can use as leverage,” Soapy said.

  Ben handed Soapy a glass of tea. “I can’t let the whole town get involved in police business,” he said.

  “I’m the mayor.”

  Ben shrugged. “Works for me.” He sat back down beside me. “We can use all the help we can get.”

  Mia opened the bag of food Soapy brought and took out some tortilla chips and salsa. “Homemade,” Soapy said. “There are some sandwiches in the bottom.”

  “This salsa is my favorite,” she said, digging in. I’d never seen Mia so eager to eat, she was either starving or nervous.

  The doorbell rang again. “We’re popular tonight,” Monica said.

  “I’ll get it,” Quinn said, gesturing for Ben to stay seated.

  “It’s probably Theresa coming for me,” Soapy said.

  “Where is that daughter-in-law of mine?” Irene’s shrill voice called from the hallway.

  “We’re in here, Mom,” Ben shouted.

  Irene rushed in with Quinn and Stewart on her heels. “How on earth did you end up arrested for murder? Do you have any idea how many phone calls I’ve gotten this evening?”

  “Sorry?” Good gravy, I was the one thrown behind bars! I was so sorry she was inconvenienced by it.

  “I’m going to grab a drink,” Stewart said. “Got anything strong in this house? And I don’t mean wine. Hello, Carl. Angela. Soapy. Nice to see you. Quite the houseful.”

  “I’ll help you,” Monica said, following him into the kitchen.

  Mia hopped up and hugged her grandma.

  The doorbell rang for the third time. “It’s Grand Central around here,” I said. “Probably Andy and Cass. I’ll get it.”

  I padded in my socked feet to the door. Ben followed. “It’s getting claustrophobic in there,” he said.

  I opened the door and was shocked to find Jason Banks standing on the porch. He looked at me, and then Ben. “I have something to show you,” he said, and held out a stack of envelopes.

  “What are these?” Ben asked.

  “Blackmail letters to my dad.”

  “Blackmail letters?” I asked. “From who?”

  “David Dixon.”

  • Eighteen •

  Ben and I waited until everyone left to read the letters. Jason didn’t stay, and we told everyone that it was Will Adkins from next door stopping by just making sure everything was okay since he saw so many cars over at our place.

  We sat in bed reading by the light from the lamps on our nightstands. What we found out was that Clayton had been having an affair with Lana, and David found out about it. “He needed money,” I told Ben. “His house was foreclosed just last week.”

  “So he blackmails his best friend? I’m not defending what Clayton did, but blackmail is never okay.”

  “And they both ended up murdered,” I said.

  “So if Clayton doesn’t pay up then our primary suspect in Clayton’s murder is David. It would seem that David killed Clayton and then someone killed him.” Ben shook his head slightly, studying one of the letters. “I don’t like that theory. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “If Clayton didn’t pay, David wouldn’t kill him, he’d go to Lana next and blackmail her.”

  Ben sat up a bit more. “Maybe he was blackmailing her, too. Double the money. She killed him and stashed the ice pick under Clayton’s couch to frame Jason. Jason has the letters and the ice pick. Weapon and motive.”

  “What if it was Jason? Weapon and motive.”

  Ben frowned. “And he had the perfect opportunity to deflect the accusation to Lana and get himself off the hook. She was sitting where the weapon was found, and then he finds these letters.”

  “It’s got to be one of them, but that still leaves us in the dark about who killed Clayton if not me, which we know it wasn’t me.”

  “Would Lana kill Clayton if she was having an affair with him?”

  “I don’t think so. You should hear the way she talks about him. I thought it was because they were old friends, but maybe she really loved him.”

  Ben let his head fall back against the headboard. “Who would kill him then?”

  We both looked at each other, the answer dawning on us both at the same time. “The husband,” I said.

  “Of course.”

  “Starnes found out and killed Clayton,” I said.

  “And Lana took out David before he could tell Starnes.”

  “Do you think either one knows what the other has done?”

  Ben set the letters on his nightstand and turned off his light. “I don’t know, but there’s one way to find out. Ask. She’s being called back in for questioning tomorrow.”

  “And you think she’ll tell you, just like that? You’re the police. She isn’t going to tell you anything.”

  “So how do we find out then?”

  “Ben, leave it to me.”

  “No way. No. We’re dealing with murderers, Cameron. Two of them.”

  “Then you can be my backup, okay? But let me talk to her before your interview, woman to woman. She has nothing to lose. I’m still the one who had the pills. I’m the one who got arrested. Anything she tells me one on one is just hearsay. I can’t prove it even if she admits it. But, if I’m wired and you hear it, too, that’s different.”

  “This is dangerous. I don’t like it.”

  “I know you don’t, but we’re doing it. I’m not going to jail for the rest of my life. The question is when and where. Once we know that, we get me out of this mess.”

  I turned off my light, snuggled down next to him, and put my head on his shoulder. I knew he would never be comfortable with my solution, but I also knew I was right. It was the only way.

  Walking the dogs in the early morning while the snow fell in soft, wispy flakes was one of my favorite things. Gus snapped at them, eating them like a gourmet dessert falling from the sky. Snowflakes melting on Colby’s nose made him sneeze, and Jack liked to try to tunnel in the snow banks built up by the plow. Liam wanted no part of going for walks in the snow and preferred to take as short of trips as possible two feet outside the back door with Isobel, who also wasn’t up for walks in cold weather.

  Again, like it had every time I’d passed the canal in recent days, my mind wandered to Metamora Mike. I honestly didn’t know how the town would fill the duck-sized hole that he would leave if he didn’t turn up again.

  There were very few people out, but those I did see walking from their house to their car or taking out the trash would glance my direction and away again, pretending they didn’t see me. Did they think I was guilty of murdering Clayton? Or did they just not kn
ow what to say? Either way, it was discomforting. How could my neighbors even consider that I’d do such a thing?

  Of course, the real killer had to have been someone Clayton knew to get close enough to poison him, so why not believe it was me?

  I had to clear my name. There had to be a way to confront Lana Buntley privately, while wired with a microphone. I would get her to confess if it was the last thing I did. And it very well could be. My life was over if I was sent to jail for the rest of it.

  Mom and Monica were at Dog Diggity setting up new display stands that Mom had bought and surprised Monica with. She’d always been Mom’s favorite and always would be, especially seeing as how only one of us was accused of murder. They were probably all giddy planning their weddings as they screwed the displays together.

  I took a deep breath of the cold, fresh air and willed my head to clear. I couldn’t worry about Mom right now. Or Monica, or Carl, or anyone but myself. Except maybe Andy.

  I took my phone out and dialed his number. “Hey,” I said when Andy answered. “You don’t think I killed Clayton, do you?”

  “It’s me you’re talking to, Cam. How could I think that?”

  “Just making sure. Anyway, Monica said you told her not to worry about the footage the cameraman shot of my arrest. I don’t know what you did, but thank you a million times. Did you get fired before you even started?”

  He laughed. “No. I’m not that careless. He had no idea what happened to it. Somehow the whole thing got wiped out.”

  “Well, whatever you did, you’re the best. I owe you one or ten or a thousand.”

  “It’s what friends do. You did it for me. You didn’t stop looking for the real killer when I was in jail for Butch’s murder. Consider this repayment.”

  I’d never even thought of that. First Carl says he’s paying me back by posting bail, and now Andy says his … whatever he’d done to that film was repaying me. “I didn’t do it so you’d repay me, you know.”

  “I know, but I’m glad I could.”

  When I got off the phone I felt better. Andy and I were friends again. He had a good job that he wasn’t going to lose for helping me, and he was staying in town. Something was going right with the world at least.

  The dogs and I walked past the gazebo in the center of town. Spook the cat sat on one of the benches inside. He watched us pass with an air of being above all of us. Cats were such strange animals. One minute they were cuddly and affectionate and the next aloof and distant. You never knew what you were going to get. And Spook was definitely mysterious, even for a cat. The way the dogs never seemed to see him make me wonder if he really was a ghost.

  On our way back, we strolled past the grist mill. Frank was shoveling the walk while Old Dan sat in a rocking chair on the side porch whittling. “Good morning. What are you making?” I asked him.

  “A duck call.”

  Something about Old Dan trying to call back Mike made my heart clench. “We have to find him,” I said.

  “We will.”

  “You sound pretty sure of that. Has he done this before?”

  “No.”

  “Then how do you know we’ll find him?”

  “Bees told me,” he said, and winked.

  Roy, Johnna, Anna, and Logan were waiting in the kitchen with Monica when I got home. “Shouldn’t you two be in school?” I asked Logan and Anna.

  “You were arrested for murder last night,” Anna said. “We’re helping you figure this out.”

  “This is more important than a perfect attendance record for twelve years,” Logan said. “Thirteen if you factor in kindergarten, but who’s counting?”

  “No! Logan, you blew your attendance record for me?”

  “You’d do it for me,” he said.

  “I would. You’re right. Thank you for being here.” I wanted to give my brainiac boy a hug but knew the gesture wasn’t something he’d appreciate. He wasn’t one for affection, but honesty and getting the job done would be the way to show him. “Let’s get to work then,” I said.

  I pulled out the letters. They passed them around, reading while I made a second pot of coffee and Monica ran down to Betty’s for a fresh batch of cookies.

  Roy whistled. “I didn’t see this coming.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Johnna said. “I’ve always known that Lana was a loose goose.”

  Logan was taking notes as he read. Anna bit her nails flipping through one of the letters, like the drama was too much to take.

  “Is this appropriate for young eyes?” Roy asked, nodding toward Logan and Anna.

  “We’re eighteen,” Logan said. “Legal adults.”

  “I suppose if you’re old enough to see an adult film and serve your country, you can read about adultery in a bribery letter.” Roy sat back, shaking his head. “What’s this world coming to?”

  “Oh stuff it, you old crow,” Johnna said. “They had adultery in the Bible.”

  “So, what do you think?” I asked. “I mean, what do you think this has to do with Clayton and David’s deaths?”

  “Only everything,” Anna said.

  “It’s highly probable that the contents of these letters was the motive for both murders,” Logan said. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll have a statistical analysis.”

  Roy scratched his head. “We don’t need no statistics. Since the beginning of time men have been killin’ other men over the womenfolk. It’s the way of things.”

  “Are you saying Starnes killed Clayton for sleeping with his wife?” I asked.

  “Of course he did. It’s clear as day.”

  “How do we prove it though?”

  “We don’t. We have to get him to admit it.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “Only way I can think of is to put Lana in danger somehow.”

  Johnna banged her hand on the table. “We aren’t going to put Lana in danger!”

  “I don’t mean physical harm, woman. I mean make him think she’s going to jail.”

  “Good gravy, that’s it!” I shouted. “I don’t need to confront Lana. I need to confront Starnes while Lana’s being questioned today and make him think she’s getting arrested.”

  “Yes!” Roy pointed at me. “That’s what I meant.”

  “Okay, let’s figure out how I get him somewhere that I can confront him. Originally, Ben was going to wire me so I could talk to Lana and he’d be listening, but I think we should scrap that.” Well, Ben hadn’t actually agreed to it in the first place. “I’m going to need you guys to hear what Starnes says since Ben will be busy interrogating Lana at the police station.”

  “I’ll record the audio,” Logan said. “I only need to be close enough to hear his words. One room away would do fine.”

  The phone rang. I saw Ben’s number on the caller ID. “It’s Ben. Stop talking about this.” I waited for them to zip their lips before I answered.

  “Cam,” he said, “I told Reins about the letters. I’m on my way home to pick them up, so if you want to read through them again, do it now.”

  “You what? Why did you do that?”

  “It’s evidence. I can’t withhold it.”

  “Why do you have to be a cop?”

  “There’s something else. Reins is bringing Jason back in. It’s too coincidental that he had—”

  “The weapon and a motive?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I don’t think he did it, Ben.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “I’ll see you when you get here.” I hung up and scurried around the table collecting the letters. “He’s taking these to Reins. They’re evidence, so he has to hand them over.”

  “Take ’em,” Roy said, pushing one across the table to me. “We’ve seen enough.”

  “Jason’s been taken back into custody with these letters
as evidence of his motive.”

  “Doesn’t help that the ice pick was under his couch, either,” Roy said.

  “Caramel apple cookies,” Monica called, strolling through the door. “Warm from the oven!”

  “I could eat a dozen of those,” I said.

  “That’s why I bought two dozen.” She sat them in the middle of the table and we dug in. I filled her in on the letters and Jason.

  While we talked, the dogs nudged around our legs, and dove under the table and back out snuffling around for crumbs. Colby lifted his head and looked at me with a white feather stuck on his nose. “Where’d you get that?”

  “Probably a bed pillow,” Johnna said. “Might even be from my bag. Charlie tore one of mine up the other day.”

  “That’s probably where it came from then,” Roy said. “I’m sure it is. Where else would it be from?”

  Johnna scowled at him.

  He took his flask out and threw back a swig.

  The two of them behaved so odd sometimes. They had a love-hate relationship, that was for sure. They loved to hate each other.

  “Dogs,” Logan said. “That’s it. Clayton had a dog, right?”

  “A Chow Chow named Ginger,” I said. “Why?”

  “That’s how we get Starnes alone while Ben’s talking to Lana at the station. Jason’s in jail. We tell Starnes he needs to pick up Ginger and take care of her. He’ll do it for his departed best friend, if only for appearances.”

  I shook my head. “Clayton’s brother and his wife are staying at his house. It won’t make sense if they’re taking care of Ginger.”

  “Starnes doesn’t need to know that. We get those two out of the house somehow and tell Starnes that they went back home.”

  I looked around the table at the others. “It might work,” I said.

  “Might,” Roy agreed.

  “I think I know how to get them out of the house, too. I need to call John Bridgemaker.”

  Not that I was keeping tabs, but since Carl and Andy had brought it up, I figured John might do me a favor for getting him out of jail when he was a suspect in Butch’s murder, too. Not that I was planning on prefacing it that way. But I hoped it was in the back of John’s mind when I asked him to lure Richard and Robin Banks to lunch to discuss the sale of Clayton’s property.