Toni L.P. Kelner - Laura Fleming 05 - Tight as a Tick

by Toni L. P. Kelner

  A class system at the flea market? I didn’t know if I should be appalled or amused. Right then, I saw Bender rolling up the main door to Building One.

  “We better get back to the booth,” Aunt Maggie said. “I’ve got some special pieces put back for a regular customer, and he usually comes by first thing.”

  I don’t know if any of them were Aunt Maggie’s regulars or not, but quite a few folks went in as soon as the door was open, so there were too many people around for Aunt Maggie and me to talk about Carney as we made our way back to her booth.

  Richard was talking to a middle-aged woman in a Charlotte Hornets windbreaker who was holding a large mixing bowl. He said, “Yes, ma’am, fifteen dollars is the correct price.”

  She looked doubtful. “Could you let me have it for ten?”

  “No, ma’am, I couldn’t do that.”

  “How about twelve-fifty?”

  He looked thoughtful, but finally nodded, and the woman handed him a twenty-dollar bill.

  Aunt Maggie and I came inside the booth, and I wrapped the bowl up while Richard made change.

  Once the woman moved on, Richard said, “How did I do?”

  “Not bad,” Aunt Maggie said. “You probably could have got thirteen out of her, but since I only paid two, I’m not complaining.”

  Richard looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

  A man came up and greeted Aunt Maggie by name, and she spent some time showing him pieces she’d stashed under the table. I wanted to tell Richard about the people I’d met, but more customers came around, and we stayed busy for quite a while.

  Working the booth was more interesting than I’d expected it to be. I’d never worked retail, not even in college, so it was my first real experience with the great unwashed. Unfortunately, that was a literal description of some of our customers. Others were dressed extremely well, in clothes that even Mrs. Lamar would have approved of. The one thing they had in common was that they all seemed to be looking for something—I could see it in their eyes.

  Despite Aunt Maggie’s concern about ghouls coming to gawk at the site of Carney’s murder, most people didn’t give his booth a second glance once they saw Thatcher wasn’t open for business. Apparently a recent murder wasn’t as interesting to them as the old dishes or Coca-Cola collectibles or whatever it was they wanted to find.

  I loved seeing their triumph when they found it, like when a woman bought two matching teacups. As I wrapped them for her, she explained that she’d been looking for replacements for cups her daughter broke ten years before. Then there was the man who bought an emerald green Graniteware pudding pot, saying that he only collected that color. Other people weren’t so specific in what they’d look at. It was like they were hoping something wonderful was waiting for them.

  “It’s like a treasure hunt without a map,” Richard said. “I can see why people find the challenge so hard to resist.”

  “You better resist. We don’t have enough room in our apartment for you to start collecting anything. Our books are collection enough.”

  “Are y’all going to talk or work?” Aunt Maggie said, ending the conversation.

  A while later, I was putting out books to replace a batch I’d sold when I suddenly felt like I was being watched. I looked down into two of the deepest brown eyes I’d ever seen, even darker than Richard’s. But Richard had nothing to worry about, because these eyes belonged to Bender’s dog, Rusty. He was gorgeous, three feet tall at the shoulders, with thick, red fur and an intelligent expression, but not exactly competition for Richard.

  “Hello there,” I said to the dog.

  “Hey, Rusty,” Aunt Maggie said, reaching over the table to pat him. “Let him sniff your hand, Laurie Anne.”

  I offered him my hand, and Richard did the same.

  “Rusty, this is Laurie Anne and Richard. They’re working with me,” Aunt Maggie said as if she expected him to understand her. “Are you feeling all right after your surgery?”

  “Much better,” a voice said. For a second I thought Rusty had spoken, but the answer had come from Bender, who was right behind his dog. “Dr. Josie says he’s going to be fine, and the operation won’t change his personality one bit.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, Bender,” Aunt Maggie said.

  “You and me both. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to old Rusty here.” He rubbed the dog’s head lovingly, and I could tell from the way Rusty leaned back against his hand that the affection was returned.

  “Bender, this is my great-niece, Laurie Anne Fleming, and her husband, Richard. They’re helping me out this weekend. Laurie Anne, Richard, this is Bender Cawthorne.”

  “I believe we met this morning,” Richard said.

  “So we did. Terrible business this morning, wasn’t it?”

  He shook his head sadly. Even if I hadn’t known that Bender was a drinker, I think I’d have been able to tell from looking at him. He wasn’t at all healthy-looking, and his hands shook noticeably.

  “I thought Evan said he wasn’t going to collect rent today,” Aunt Maggie said. “Did he change his mind?”

  “No, I’m not here for that. It’s just that Evan decided that with all that’s been happening, he wanted to check everything. After this morning and what happened to Carney, I can’t blame him for that. Anyway, he looked at my paperwork, and he was mighty upset when he saw I haven’t been using that receipt book he bought. Evan says he’s got to have those receipts for tax records—he’s a real stickler about taxes. He got audited once, and hasn’t been the same since. So he’s coming to give you post-dated receipts for the past few months. He’s over with Obed right now.”

  “Just what I need, more paperwork,” Aunt Maggie grumbled.

  “He also wanted me to check to see if anything is missing from your booth. The police want it for their report.”

  “I don’t care what the police want,” Aunt Maggie said, “but you can tell Evan that I don’t think anything was taken, just busted up.”

  “That’s good,” Bender said. He must have realized how that sounded, because he added, “I don’t mean that it’s good that your stuff got busted. I’m just glad it was no worse than it was.”

  Aunt Maggie patted his arm, much like she had his dog’s head. “I know what you mean, Bender.”

  “I appreciate your being so understanding, Miz Burnette,” he said. “Some of the other dealers haven’t been, not that I blame them. Some of them want Evan to hire somebody else to watch the place.”

  “Nobody with any sense blames you for the break-in or for Carney’s murder.”

  “Miz Dermott and Miz Foy sure think it’s my fault. I guess they’re scared, and I can’t blame them for that.”

  It didn’t sound like Bender blamed anybody for much of anything, other than himself.

  He looked over at Carney’s booth. “I feel awful bad about Carney, Miz Burnette. If I hadn’t slept late, maybe I’d have heard something that morning.”

  “And maybe you’d have gotten yourself killed, too,” Aunt Maggie said briskly. “It’s a waste of time to wonder what might have happened.”

  “I guess you’re right,” he said mournfully.

  “It’s just bad luck that Rusty wasn’t here,” Aunt Maggie said, rubbing the dog’s head.

  Bender said, “He feels bad about it, too. He’s been off his feed all week.”

  I thought it more likely that Rusty was affected by his recent surgery than by guilt over not doing his job, but Aunt Maggie didn’t seem to think it was too outlandish.

  She stooped down in front of the dog and said, “Rusty, you’ve got to stop blaming yourself. You hear?”

  I decided I was more tired than I’d realized. I could have sworn that the dog nodded.

  “Here’s Evan,” Bender said as his brother bustled over.

  “Good afternoon, Miz Burnette.”

  “Afternoon, Evan,” Aunt Maggie said. “I won’t say that it’s a good one, not after this morning.” Then she introduced Richa
rd and me.

  “Pleased to meet y’all.” Evan said. “I’m sorry your research came in the midst of such unpleasant incidents.”

  I could see where he might call a break-in unpleasant, but it was awfully mild for a murder. I said, “I have to admit that the family’s a little worried about Aunt Maggie being out here alone.” I didn’t have to see it to know that Aunt Maggie was giving me a look, but I figured I could apologize to her later. “Have the police made any progress?”

  “Weren’t you here this morning when Deputy Tucker made her announcement? She believes it was a gang that came across Mr. Alexander unexpectedly.”

  “Belva Tucker doesn’t know her head from a hole in the wall,” Aunt Maggie said.

  “It looked to me like she investigated quite thoroughly,” Evan stated. “Do you have information she doesn’t have?”

  “No, I told her everything I know. She just doesn’t have enough sense to believe it.”

  “Miz Burnette, you don’t have a thing to worry about. Bender and I are implementing new security procedures tonight so there won’t be any more trouble.”

  “You can tell your family that you’re going to be safe as houses,” Bender added. “They can count on me to protect you.” Then, as if realizing that that wasn’t much of a comfort, he added, “And Rusty, too.”

  Rusty barked in agreement.

  “I appreciate that, Bender.” She patted the dog. “You, too, Rusty. I’m going to sleep much easier now.” With the last part, she glared at me. It was going to have to be an awful big apology.

  “If you ask me, you’re far more likely to get into trouble with the IRS than with vandals,” Evan said. “Bender tells me that he hasn’t been giving you dealers receipts like he’s supposed to, and I’m sure you’ll want that cleared up.”

  “To tell you the truth, Evan, that’s the last thing on my mind.”

  He looked shocked. “Miz Burnette, you’ve got to have records of everything or those people will rob you blind. I swear, I think some years I pay more in taxes than I earn.”

  Aunt Maggie didn’t look impressed. “I keep records.”

  He nodded approvingly. “I’m glad you’re businesslike. Unfortunately, our own records aren’t what they should be.”

  He frowned at Bender. “That’s going to change, starting right now. Could I see your records so I can copy the information?”

  “I suppose,” she said with a sigh, “but you’ll have to give me a few minutes to find them. I usually have everything in order, but with the break-in—”

  “Bender, why don’t you give Miz Burnette a hand?”

  “I sure will, Evan.” Bender and Aunt Maggie started going through boxes we’d just thrown stuff into while cleaning up.

  “Mr. Fleming, was it?” Evan said. “Have you decided what kind of merchandise you’re going to sell?”

  It figured that he’d assume Richard was in charge. As matriarchal as most Southern families are, he should have known better.

  I said, “We’ve been thinking about putting together a market of our own. Have you been in the business long?”

  “Actually, Tight as a Tick is only one of my business holdings. I received the land in payment for a debt, and since it was already being used for swap meets and such, I took the opportunity to make some improvements and create a better selling environment.”

  “Have you found it to be a lucrative business?” Great. I was starting to talk like him.

  He waved the idea away. “Though I’ve made a modest profit, I wouldn’t recommend it as a way to make real money. As a matter of fact, I’m planning to sell the Tight as a Tick lot, but there’s a dispute over zoning.”

  “I understand the property straddles the border between Byerly and Rocky Shoals.”

  “Unfortunately. Normally I consider land an excellent investment, but this time, I wish I’d taken a loss on the debt rather than accept this piece. It’s become a bit of an albatross.”

  “Is managing a flea market that troublesome?” Richard asked.

  “You have no idea. Maintenance on the building, security concerns, insurance—the list goes on and on.”

  “And of course, you’ve got the dealers to contend with,” I said.

  “Young lady, you’ve said a mouthful.” He diplomatically added, “Of course, your aunt is no problem whatsoever, but some of the others out here … This kind of work attracts an unusual variety of people, and they don’t always get along. Some of the squabbles I’ve had to settle were simply ludicrous.”

  “Like with Mary Maude Foy and Mavis Dermott this morning?” I asked.

  “Exactly.”

  “Aunt Maggie has told me about some of the problems. Like with that man who was killed.”

  Evan couldn’t resist looking over at Carney’s booth, where Thatcher was still working. “There had been complaints about Carney over the past few months. Apparently some of his knives weren’t what he claimed they were, and to a collector, authenticity is everything. At first, I was willing to chalk it up to honest mistakes, but it was starting to look like I would have to evict him to protect our reputation.”

  “You don’t suppose his murder had anything to do with that, do you?”

  “Surely not,” he said, sounding shocked. “The police seem quite certain that they’re pursuing the right line of investigation.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Though I suppose it is possible. Perhaps Carney sold a spurious knife to a gang member … I’ll mention that possibility to Deputy Tucker.”

  I really hadn’t intended to give Belva more ammunition, but before I could ask Evan anything else, Aunt Maggie announced, “Found them!” Richard and I dealt with customers while she conferred with Evan. Then the Cawthorne brothers went on to the next booth, with Rusty following along.

  Chapter 16

  “Did you see how Aunt Maggie was talking to Rusty?” I whispered to Richard after Evan and Bender had gone. “I never realized she had such a soft spot for dogs.”

  “ ‘The greatest pleasure of a dog is that you may make a fool of yourself with him and not only will he not scold you, but he will make a fool of himself, too.’ Samuel Butler.”

  “Since when do you know Samuel Butler?”

  “Since I found this in Aunt Maggie’s stock.” He pulled a paperback dictionary of quotations from his apron.

  “You mean you just read it? How can you remember a brand-new quote like that?”

  “It’s a gift.”

  “More like a curse.”

  “You’re just jealous.”

  By one-thirty, those sausage biscuits were a distant memory, and I wanted to talk with Richard about Carney so bad I was about to bust. So I said, “Aunt Maggie, if you don’t mind, I thought Richard and I could go get something to eat and compare notes. Will you be all right on your own?”

  “Laurie Anne, how many years have I been running this booth on my own?”

  “Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “What you can do is bring me back something to eat, and then spell me so I can eat in peace. I can’t remember the last weekend I got to eat my lunch while it was still hot.”

  I found out what she wanted, and Richard and I headed for the snack bar. The place was doing a booming business, but Richard snagged a table while I got our burgers and fries.

  As we ate, I told Richard about my conversations with China and Obed, then described the encounter with Tammy, J.B., and Annabelle Lamar. Needless to say, I kept my voice low.

  When I was done, Richard said, “They have an interesting batch of motives. Or rather, they all had the same motive: revenge. Vengeance—”

  “Yes?” I said sweetly. “Do go on.”

  “Don’t get mad, get even. I dont know who said it, but it wasn’t Shakespeare.”

  “Getting back to motives, revenge does sound the most likely, unless Carney had something else up his sleeve.”

  “Sounds like he had a lot up his sleeves. A thoroughly unpleasant character.”
<
br />   “I don’t think anybody is at all sorry that he’s gone,” I said. “Not that that’s going to stop us from trying to find his murderer.” Richard and I had had this discussion before, when I was looking for the murderer of my ex-boyfriend. It doesn’t matter if the victim was a worthless human being or a saint, murder is still murder.

  “Did any of them strike you as the murdering type?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “J.B. comes the closest to looking the part, but—”

  “But we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover,” he said cheerfully.

  Maybe I should have let him stick with Shakespeare. “Anyway, none of them seemed like murderers to me. In fact, I liked everybody, except for Mrs. Lamar. What a witch!”

  “Can we make a case against her?”

  “I don’t think she’s been to the flea market before, so that makes her pretty unlikely.”

  “Laura, look at our suspects. A dwarf, a biker and his old lady, and a seamstress. They all sound unlikely.”

  “Don’t they though?”

  “If we follow the old rule of suspecting the least likely person, the killer would be China Upton. Maybe Carney made a pass at her, and she was fighting him off.”

  “Why would she have used one of his knives? She’d have been more likely to use her sewing scissors, or a seam ripper. Besides, it looks like the murder was premeditated.”

  “Then the next least likely would be the dwarf. Assuming that he could overcome the physical difficulties, that is.”

  “I don’t even want to think about that,” I said. “The worst part is that I haven’t met everybody yet. Aunt Maggie said she’d take me to meet the rest before closing time.”

  Richard finished his last french fry, then said, “Laura, there’s something I want to ask you.” His tone told me that it wasn’t a topic I was going to enjoy. “When we were alone with Evan, you took the lead in the conversation, even though he spoke to me first. Why is that?”

  “Because it annoyed me that he assumed you were in charge of our hypothetical flea market business.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  “I think so. Why?”

  “I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t forgetting that I’ve been involved in nearly as many investigations as you have. I admit that I was in England when you found Philip Dennis’s killer, but even then, I talked to you on the phone and I thought I’d helped a little.”