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

by Toni L. P. Kelner

  “Laurie Anne—”

  “I know, you’ve been running this booth by yourself for umpteen years. Why on earth would you need me now?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, which was rare for her. “I don’t mean to sound like I haven’t appreciated you and Richard helping out.”

  “That’s all right. I know you prefer working alone.”

  “Usually, but there’s times when it’d be nice to have somebody else around. Your granddaddy used to come out once in a while, and he went to some of the auctions with me. Since he’s been gone, I’ve been on my own.”

  I’m an only child, so I can’t really understand what it means to lose a brother or sister, but I could tell that Aunt Maggie missed Paw as much as I did. I was thinking about giving her a hug when she stepped away, like she’d known what I was going to do.

  She said, “But you aren’t here to mess with the flea market—you’re here to find out what happened to Carney. So you go ahead and talk to Thatcher.”

  I walked to where Thatcher was working and said, “Can I give you a hand with those boxes?”

  He smiled, and I could tell that he was going to be nice-looking if he ever filled out. “That would be a big help. Mr. Cawthorne said he was going to have to charge me for today if I don’t get cleared out of here by noon.”

  Thatcher was taking the boxes home so he could spend the week sorting and pricing, and he was so excited about it that I couldn’t get a word in edgewise until we’d carted a couple of loads out to his mother’s station wagon.

  Finally, as I held the dolly for him to load boxes, I said, “It sure is terrible, what happened to Carney. Had you known him long?”

  “A couple, three years. I bought my first knives from Carney.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Do you know much about knives?”

  “No, but my husband does have a sword.”

  “Is it a real one, or just for show?”

  “I’m not sure.” Richard had used it in a production of Hamlet, so I’d always assumed it was just a prop, but I didn’t want to tell him that. “I know it’s seen at least one battle.” Okay, I was the one who’d taken it into battle, but I had swung at somebody with it and I’d even connected.

  “I’d like to get into swords someday, but the good ones are expensive. If you send me a picture of it, I’ll try to track down how much it’s worth.”

  “Thanks, that would be nice to know.” To edge us back on subject, I said, “I take it Carney didn’t deal in swords.”

  “No, he preferred knives. Knew a lot about them, too. Of course, he had to, or he wouldn’t have been able to—” He stopped short.

  “To do what?” I prompted.

  “To sell them,” he finished, but it wasn’t very convincing.

  I thought I knew what he’d been about to say, and why he hadn’t. Paw taught me it wasn’t nice to speak ill of the dead, but I thought he’d understand, given the circumstances. “I’d heard something about Carney restoring a lot of his knives.”

  “I guess that’s what you’d call it. I knew he did some of that, but it wasn’t until I was doing the inventory that I realized how many of his knives are restored.”

  To give him a chance to get over his embarrassment, I waited until we’d taken another load out before asking the next question. “You’re not nervous about taking over his business, are you? I mean, considering what happened to him.”

  “I never thought about it,” he said. “Deputy Tucker said it was just a coincidence that Carney was here when the place was broke into, that it didn’t have anything to do with him.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  “I guess,” he said. “I’ve been so busy getting the money together to buy the business and then doing the inventory that I haven’t thought much about what happened to Carney. Makes me sound kind of cold, doesn’t it? But I really didn’t know him that well, just enough to talk about knives.”

  “Y’all never went out together or anything like that? Not even to a knife show?”

  “Nope. Carney never went to the shows. Sometimes he’d pay my way to get things for him, but he never came along.”

  “Really? It seems like he’d have enjoyed it.” Aunt Maggie was always talking to other dealers, comparing notes. Richard liked talking Shakespeare and departmental politics just like I liked talking computers. What better time could a knife aficionado have than to mingle with others?

  “He wasn’t one to make friends easily.”

  “So I’ve heard.” I waited a minute to see if he’d say anything else, then added, “In fact, I hear he went out of his way to make enemies.”

  “You might say that,” Thatcher said, clearly uncomfortable again. “I never had any problems with him.”

  Obviously he knew somebody who had. “What about the other point men? That’s what he called you guys, isn’t it?”

  “I thought that was right smart—Carney was good with puns.”

  I think Thatcher was glad for an opportunity to say something nice about Carney. “Did Carney not get along with the other point men?” I persisted.

  “Some of them said he didn’t pay them what he ought to, and they might have had a point.” He stopped and grinned. “Hey, I just made a pun.”

  “So you did. Seems like working with knives would be a natural for jokes. Cut to the chase, cutting edge, pointed remarks.”

  “I’ll have to remember those,” Thatcher said admiringly. “You’re fast with words, just like Carney was. He could make a play off somebody’s name as soon as he heard it, or out of what they did, or anything. Some of them were funny, too. Like calling Bender Cawthorne a border guard, because he was a boarder and a guard. And there’s what he called your aunt.”

  “I didn’t know he had a nickname for Aunt Maggie.”

  “He never said it to her face,” he said, looking nervously in her direction.

  I probably shouldn’t have asked, but I couldn’t resist. “What did he call her?”

  “Old Maid-in-Japan, because of what she sells and because of her not being married.”

  It’s a good thing he hadn’t used it to her face, or he might have died sooner. “I’d heard some of his puns were nasty.”

  “Some of them were,” Thatcher admitted. “You know how Evan Cawthorne was poor when he was growing up? Every time Carney saw him, he’d ask him if he knew a good place to get a poor boy sandwich. Just last week, he asked Evan if he was feeling poorly, because he’d heard his business was taxing.”

  “Making fun of Evan having been poor and that tax audit at the same time.”

  “I guess. Now, Evan Cawthorne can take care of himself, but Carney shouldn’t have picked on Wyatt,” Thatcher said. “Wyatt’s a point man, too. He’s my age, but he started losing his hair early. Carney started making jokes about Wyatt having his receipts all balled up. All bald up. And he’d ask if Wyatt knew a good place to get a haircut, or if he had a comb Carney could borrow. One day Wyatt showed up in a toupee, and we all waited for Carney to say something, but he didn’t say a word until Wyatt was about to leave. Wyatt said he was going out dancing, and Carney told him to have a good time cutting a rug. Then he looked right at the top of Wyatt’s head.”

  “Ouch! I can understand why nobody’s sorry that Carney’s gone.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Thatcher objected. “Some of us point men were sorry. We went in together to get flowers for his funeral.”

  “Even Wyatt?”

  “He didn’t put in much, but he was short on cash. Wyatt and the other point men spent last weekend at a knife and gun show in Raleigh, and he spent purt near everything he had. They said it was a heck of a show. I wanted to go, but Saturday was my mother’s birthday.”

  Great! All of the other point men had just been eliminated from the running in one fell swoop. For a second I thought about a bunch of them working together, saying that they’d gone to Raleigh while staying in town to kill Carney, but that didn’t seem likely. I consol
ed myself with the thought that at least I hadn’t wasted any time tracking them down.

  There was still Thatcher, of course, but darn it, he seemed too nice. Of course, his fascination with knives probably said something Freudian about his personality, but it sure didn’t show. So I gave up on questions while we finished taking boxes out to his car. To thank me for my help, he gave me a nifty Swiss Army knife with two blades, a nail file, a bottle opener, a screwdriver, a toothpick, and a pair of tweezers. I was sure Freud would have something to say about Thatcher giving a woman a knife, but all I said was, “Thank you.”

  Chapter 26

  Thatcher said he was going to tell Bender that Carney’s space was ready, and a little while after he left, Bender and Rusty showed up. Bender was carrying a broom and a plastic milk crate filled with cleaning supplies.

  Rusty wagged his tail, and Bender said, “Howdy, Miz Burnette, Miz Fleming. How are y’all doing?”

  “Pretty good, Bender,” Aunt Maggie said. “How about yourself?”

  “I woke up with a little headache this morning, but I’m feeling better.”

  Aunt Maggie looked at me and shook her head, and I knew she was thinking that Bender’s headache had been nothing more than a hangover. “What’s Evan got you doing now?”

  “I’m just making sure that Carney’s booth is ready for J.B. and Tammy to move in.”

  “Need any help?” I asked, thinking I might talk to him like I had Thatcher.

  Bender shook his head. “It won’t take me but a few minutes to clean up.” I was surprised to see that once he got moving, he was an efficient worker. I had to wonder what he could do if he stayed sober.

  “That’s that,” he said when he’d finished sweeping and wiping the tables down. “I just have to throw these boxes away. I don’t guess Thatcher needed any more wrapping paper.”

  “Did you say those boxes have paper in them?” Aunt Maggie asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then let me have them. I’m running short on newspaper.”

  Just then Evan came in the back door. “Is the booth cleared out yet?” he asked.

  “Just finishing up,” Bender said, handing the boxes to Aunt Maggie.

  “What’s that? Did Thatcher leave something behind?”

  “Just scrap paper,” Aunt Maggie said.

  Evan nodded, and then inspected the empty booth as Bender watched him anxiously. I wouldn’t have thought it warranted such a thorough inspection. Evan checked for dust, rubbed the tops of the tables to make sure the laminate was secure, even bent down to look under the tables.

  “Gum chewers,” he explained when he saw me and Aunt Maggie watching him.

  Aunt Maggie snorted and went back to what she’d been doing.

  “It looks fine, Bender,” he said. Rusty wagged his tail, and I think Bender would have, too, if he’d had one. “Go tell J.B. and Tammy they can move in any time.”

  “All right, Evan,” Bender said, and he and Rusty left.

  I said, “Mr. Cawthorne, have the police come up with any leads about the murder or the break-in?”

  “Not that I’ve heard. I was hoping that they’d solve the case quickly to avoid negative publicity, but I guess there’s no chance of that now.”

  I didn’t say anything, but as usual, my face gave my feelings away.

  “I don’t mean to be uncaring,” Evan said, “but this is a difficult time for me. I’ve just bought into a very big project. A group of businessmen is putting together a package for building luxury vacation condominiums.”

  “In Byerly?” I said.

  “No, in Boone. We’re hoping to cater to successful professionals from Charlotte and the Research Triangle who want to enjoy the natural beauty of the mountains without leaving modern convenience behind.”

  He sounded like he was quoting from a brochure. I said, “That could be a winner.”

  “Oh, it will be. The market research has been incredibly encouraging, and I was lucky to be asked to join in. If Carney’s death were to be linked with the project, I could be pushed out.”

  “You should be safe,” I told him. “Boone is far enough from Byerly that I bet nobody there even knows about it.”

  “So far, you’re right, but I am concerned. This project is very important to me.” He looked around the booth one more time, then said, “I hope you two ladies have a profitable day,” and went out the door he’d come in.

  “What do you think, Aunt Maggie?” I said. “Are you going to buy yourself a luxury condo in Boone?”

  “Why on earth would I want to go to Boone?” she asked.

  I knew it wasn’t because there was anything wrong with Boone. Aunt Maggie just isn’t much of a traveler.

  She said, “I heard Evan was in hock up to his eyeballs because of some deal, but I didn’t know it was condos. He better be careful—he could lose his shirt.”

  “Really? Aunt Nora said he was well off.”

  “He does all right, especially compared to me, but a lot of his money is tied up in his business and in property like this place. Evan being Evan, he doesn’t want to let any of it go. So he got mortgages and loans to raise the money.”

  “Did he tell you that?” Businessmen aren’t usually forthcoming when it comes to their finances.

  “No, but he talked to Arthur, and Arthur told Vasti. Which means that the whole county knows by now.”

  Vasti is a darned effective means of communication. She has more information than most web sites, and is a lot easier to log onto than the Internet.

  “The only piece of property he was wiling to sell was this lot out here,” Aunt Maggie said, “and he was fit to be tied when he found out he couldn’t.”

  “He said it was something about zoning,” I said, remembering yesterday’s conversation.

  “The Byerly part is zoned residential and the Rocky Shoals part is zoned business. Then there’s property taxes to deal with. Both Byerly and Rocky Shoals want their cut, and want to make sure they get the right amount. Evan can keep this place running forever, because it predates the zoning regulations, but since nobody can do anything else with the land, nobody will buy it until they get the town line settled.”

  “That must be frustrating,” I said. Evan Cawthorne was clearly a man with plans.

  “You know why he wants to do that deal in Boone, don’t you? It’s because nobody up there knows how poor his family was.”

  I remembered what Aunt Nora had said about the other kids teasing Evan. He probably saw those kids every day, all grown up now, but still knowing what he used to be. No wonder he wanted to get away. Hadn’t I wanted to move up North to make a fresh start?

  If Carney had been standing in the way of that fresh start, I could see where Evan might have wanted him dead, but it sounded like Carney’s death was a hinderance, not a help.

  I sighed. I was learning an awful lot about these people, especially Carney, but none of it explained why he’d been killed. I looked over at his booth, now swept clean. As nasty as Carney had been, it seemed odd that he’d left no more mark than he had.

  Chapter 27

  Richard came back a few minutes later, but we had customers milling around, so it was a while before I had a chance to ask him what he’d found out.

  “You were right not to let me investigate on my own,” Richard said. “I didn’t get a thing out of those people.”

  “We always end up with a lot of useless information,” I said consolingly.

  “You don’t understand. I didn’t get any information, useless or otherwise. Nobody would talk to me.”

  “Didn’t you introduce yourself as Aunt Maggie’s nephew?”

  “Of course. And I told them how interested I was in learning about their businesses. Maybe I’m no Kenneth Branagh, but after all my years in academia, I can convincingly pretend to be interested in almost anything. These people weren’t convinced. Tattoo Bob said he was too busy to talk, even though there was nobody around him, and Obed was short with me.” He winc
ed. “Sorry. Obed told me he didn’t think I was cut out for his kind of work. China wasn’t exactly rude, but she was definitely nervous, and I couldn’t even catch Ronald’s eye. Admittedly he was making a ring, but he had time to talk to everybody else who came by. The furniture people said they don’t have time to give free advice.”

  “What in the world?” I wondered. “Everybody was perfectly friendly to me.”

  “I thought I’d have better luck outside, but J.B. glared at me and Tammy looked hurt. Even the little girl acted like she was mad. I was so desperate that I went over to Mavis and Mary Maude’s booth and gave them any number of openings to complain, but they wouldn’t say a word.” He shook his head. “I know Yankees aren’t the most popular people in Byerly, but I’ve never had a reception like that.”

  “I can’t imagine it has anything to do with your being from Massachusetts,” I said. “Heck, Obed traveled all over the country. He couldn’t have done that if he was rude to Northerners.”

  “Then what? I didn’t flash my Harvard ring or quote Shakespeare. I didn’t make rude comments about their merchandise. I know I brushed my teeth and used deodorant this morning.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t you at all,” I said. “Maybe it’s me. I talked to them all yesterday—maybe they figured out what we’re doing. I tried to be careful, but I’m not used to being undercover. Or maybe somebody heard Vasti talking last night. She was pretty loud.”

  “I can understand the murderer not wanting to talk to me, but why would everybody else avoid me unless they’re involved, too?”

  “Like in Murder on the Orient Express? I don’t think so. Besides which, wouldn’t a smart murderer try to be extra friendly to throw us off the track?”

  “The murderer may not be all that smart.”

  “He must have been pretty smart to plan the murder, not to mention the break-in and getting into Carney’s apartment.”

  “What about Carney’s apartment?”

  I quickly caught him up on my conversations with Thatcher, Bender, and Evan.

  “Great,” he said. “I go off to find facts, and get nothing. You sit here and they come to you. Maybe I should let you do this alone—it might go faster.”