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

by Toni L. P. Kelner

  “Not on your life!” I said, and gave him a big hug.

  “I’m glad somebody still likes me,” he said with a smile. “Which reminds me, when I was at China’s booth, I ran into a friend of mine.”

  “In Byerly? Who?”

  “Do you remember my mentioning Vivian?”

  “That’s not that redheaded freshman who had such a big crush on you last semester, is it?”

  “Hardly,” he said dryly. “Vivian is the army nurse I met at the V.F.W. post.”

  “That’s right, the Jane Austen fan. How is she doing?”

  “She looked as hale and hearty as ever, which is remarkably hale and hearty.”

  “You’re forgetting that I never met her.”

  “Picture a woman six feet tall, solidly built, and dressed in fatigues.”

  “I can’t imagine a woman like that being a fan of Jane Austen. Would she be comfortable in a silk dress with an empire waist and lace at the throat?”

  “Maybe not, but there’s definitely a side to Vivian I hadn’t seen before. She bought an entire box of China’s sachets.”

  “The ones with lace and ribbon, or the ones with hearts and silk flowers?”

  “Neither, actually. The ones she picked out weren’t that elaborate, just plain gingham and calico. Even so, she looked a little embarrassed by my catching her. I wanted to ask her opinion of some of the Austen movies and TV shows that have shown up recently, but she was in a hurry.”

  “It’s a shame China doesn’t have any sachets made of camouflage material,” I said with a giggle.

  “With army insignia sewn on,” Richard added.

  “What’s so funny?” Aunt Maggie asked as she came up behind us.

  “Just wondering if China would be interested in adding some new styles of sachets,” I said.

  “I swear, I wonder if I shouldn’t make some of them things,” she said. “They sell like hotcakes.”

  “Really?” I wouldn’t have thought the average flea market shopper was interested in sweet-smelling lingerie. Customers at Victoria’s Secret, yes, but not at Tight as a Tick.

  Aunt Maggie said, “She sells them by the crate, and not just to women either.”

  “Men buying gifts, I guess. Unless you think they’re—” I stopped, not sure how to put it politely.

  “You mean do I think they’ve got lace on their under-drawers?” Aunt Maggie said, which was her euphemism for gay men. “Not hardly. I’ve seen big, strong men over there.”

  I could have pointed out that big, strong men are quite popular in Boston’s gay community, but instead I said, “That’s kind of odd. Sachets aren’t what I’d consider a high traffic item. What are people doing? Putting one in every drawer in their house?”

  “Do you think it means anything?” she asked.

  “Problably not,” I admitted.

  It was getting past lunchtime, so Richard went to the snack bar to pick up food for the three of us. I’d hoped that eating would increase blood flow to my brain so I’d come up with something else to look into, but instead I got sleepy. Richard and Aunt Maggie looked snoozy, too. It was considerably hotter than it had been the day before, and there wasn’t much business.

  Between the heat and business being slow, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when Aunt Maggie got testy. It was about an hour and a half before closing time when I heard a woman say, “Would you take a dime for this?” She was holding a white bud vase with pink flowers along the edge.

  Aunt Maggie took it from her and checked the price tag. “It’s marked a dollar.”

  “Would you take a dime for it?” the woman asked again.

  Aunt Maggie looked disgusted. “Lady,” she said, “it’s not worth anything if it’s not worth more than that.” She threw it into the metal trash barrel hard enough that we could hear it break.

  The woman stared at her for a couple of minutes, then walked away without saying a word.

  Once the woman had turned a corner, Aunt Maggie snickered and said, “I swear, it was worth a dollar just to see the look on her face.”

  Chapter 28

  Right after Bender gave the fifteen-minute warning, a thin man with just enough hair to comb over his bald spot rushed up to the booth. “Miz Burnette, are you buying?”

  “What have you got, Luther?”

  “I moved two old ladies this week, and they sold me boxes and boxes of glassware. Are you interested?”

  “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to look at it,” Aunt Maggie said casually, but I saw a gleam in her eye. “Pull your truck around back, and I’ll come out and see.”

  “Okay, but we’ve got to hurry. I’m due for Sunday dinner in less than an hour.”

  “I’ll meet you out there,” Aunt Maggie called after him as he nearly ran back the way he’d come.

  “Do you think he’s got anything good?” I asked.

  “I never know with Luther. He and his wife run a moving company, and they’ve got a deal with the Byerly Nursing Home to help people clean out their houses before moving into the home. There’s no way they can take all their stuff with them, so Luther buys anything they can’t keep.”

  “Sounds kind of mercenary,” I said.

  “If Luther didn’t buy it, they’d just throw it out. He only gets called in when there’s no family willing to help. Luther may not pay them much, but it’s more than they’d get without him. He turns around and sells it to me, which gives him a way to make a little money on the side without telling his wife.”

  Aunt Maggie pulled out her lock box to get a fistful of cash. “Richard, why don’t you come with me? If he’s got anything worth buying, we’ll load it into the car and take it home so I can price it before next week.”

  After making sure I didn’t mind, he said he would, and off they went. I was expecting them to be back shortly, but they were still gone when Bender locked the front door. I didn’t think Aunt Maggie would want me to leave the cash box unattended, so I straightened up like I’d seen her doing the day before.

  When Tammy, J.B., and Dulcy came by to stock their new booth, I thought I was going to have company, but I’d have been better off alone. J.B. looked mad, and Tammy looked like her feelings were hurt, just like Richard had said. They didn’t say a word to me when I said, “Hey there.”

  When Aunt Maggie and Richard finally came back, I could tell from the look on Aunt Maggie’s face and the tired way Richard was moving that Luther really had had something worth buying. “Well?”

  “Laurie Anne, I can’t remember the last time I got so much stuff. There’s an ironstone pitcher and at least six Jubilee tumblers and Carnival glass and Occupied Japan figurines and … I don’t know what all is in there. Do you have any idea of how much I can get for that stuff?”

  I didn’t, but it didn’t matter, because she didn’t give me a chance to answer.

  “Just the pieces I recognize are worth more than I paid for the whole lot.”

  “That’s great.” I was getting excited, too. Richard was right—working at a flea market was like going on a treasure hunt.

  “I’m going to have to carry some of my books home to look things up.” She started filling an empty box with the books she needed. “By the way, Laurie Anne, we’ve got a problem. I bought so much that there’s not enough room in the car for all of us. Somebody is going to have to wait here while the other two go to the house and unload.”

  Great. All I wanted was to get into an air-conditioned room and put my feet up. Not to mention the fact that I was hungry, and the snack bar was long since closed.

  “I’ll wait out here,” Richard said. “You go on with Aunt Maggie.”

  I was going to turn him down anyway, but I didn’t get a chance before Aunt Maggie said, “I’d rather have Richard to help unload the car.” She looked over at Tammy and J.B. “Maybe they’d give you a ride.”

  “I doubt it,” I said, and explained.

  She was as mystified by the way they were acting as we were, but said, “We’ll wor
k it out later. Right now, I want to get at those boxes.”

  I could tell Richard was trying to decide if it would be more chivalrous to leave me alone or to have me unload boxes, so I said, “Why don’t I ask Thaddeous to come get me? That way I won’t have to wait so long, and we can all help unload.”

  “Good idea,” Aunt Maggie said.

  I used the pay phone at the snack bar to call Thaddeous, but ended up talking to Aunt Nora, who told me that he wasn’t there and that Augustus had her car. Since Augustus was due home any minute, she said she’d send him after me as soon as he got back, and since she was Aunt Nora, she invited the three of us over for supper. I was tempted, but I was also tired. Besides, I knew Aunt Maggie would never be able to sit through supper with those boxes waiting. So I told her we’d come for supper Monday night instead. Maybe I’d be rested by then.

  When I went back to the booth, I passed all of this on to Richard and Aunt Maggie. Richard gave me a quick kiss before they left, and I got one of Aunt Maggie’s paperbacks to read while I waited for Augustus outside.

  I could have waited inside, but I didn’t want to hang around Tammy and J.B. Besides, they were getting ready to go just as Aunt Maggie and Richard were, and I think it would have been creepy even if Carney hadn’t been killed there the week before.

  It was creepy outside, too. The dealers were long gone, leaving nothing behind but filled trash barrels and odd scraps of paper and metal. Every footstep echoed, and with no trees, I couldn’t blame the random noises I heard on squirrels or birds. At least it was still light, but that meant that there were long shadows everywhere, making it look like somebody was following me. I hoped Augustus was on his way.

  I felt the rumbling before I heard it, and at first I thought it was thunder. Then I recognized it as a motorcycle revving. More than one, I corrected myself. In fact, it sounded like a dozen.

  I walked on toward the road as I tried to forget every movie about motorcycle gangs I’d ever seen. Then a motorcycle came out of nowhere and crossed in front of me. The rider was wearing a helmet with the visor down.

  I turned back the other way—Augustus would just have to come find me—but I hadn’t gone a dozen steps when a second motorcycle cut me off. Where was Bender? More importantly, where was Rusty?

  I turned around again, but didn’t have a chance to move before yet another motorcycle appeared. I started walking in that direction anyway. If I didn’t move, those motorcycle riders were going to be able to see my legs shaking.

  Two more cycles zoomed past me, but I walked on, hoping that they weren’t going to run me down. I’d seen movies where a man on foot tripped up a motorcycle by sticking a rod in the spokes, but even if I’d had a rod handy, it didn’t look possible from where I stood. I could have tried to knock one of the riders off with my pocketbook, but what would I do about the other four?

  Now they were circling me, coming closer and closer until I had to stop. Five motorcycles don’t sound like a lot until you’re surrounded by them, and I’d never realized how much noise five motors could make.

  They circled for what seemed like forever, but was probably no more than a couple of minutes. Then one of them raised his hand, and they all slowed to a stop. The one who’d signaled climbed off of his motorcycle, and came over to look down at me. He wasn’t that tall, but he was right much taller than I am. His visor was mirrored, so instead of his face, all I could see was my own pale reflection.

  I was so scared I could hardly breathe, but I wouldn’t let myself look away from him. Didn’t people like this respect strength, or was that another myth from the movies? I didn’t care—I wouldn’t be able to face myself the next day if I didn’t hold my ground. Assuming that I saw another day.

  Finally he reached up and pulled off his helmet. It was J.B. Doughty.

  I’d thought that seeing a face would make me feel less threatened, but the fierce look he was giving me was worse than the visor. Was he Carney’s killer? Why else would he be so angry? Had Belva been right about Carney having been killed by a gang? She’d thought it was kids, but couldn’t it have been bikers? I couldn’t very well ask J.B., so I just waited him out.

  I think he was trying to wait me out, too, but finally he said, “I want to talk to you.”

  “Go ahead,” I said as calmly as if I spent every other day surrounded by biker gangs.

  “You’ve been asking questions about things that are none of your concern. I want you to stop.”

  I’ve been accused of sticking my nose into other people’s business more times than I can count, and even if it’s true, it still makes me mad. “J.B., if you knew me, you’d know better than to try to tell me what to do. I’m going to keep on asking questions until I find out what I need to know.”

  His eyes shifted to the other bikers. I don’t think that was the way he’d scripted this encounter. “I don’t want to hurt you, but if you do anything to Tammy, I’ll … You don’t want to know what I’ll do.”

  I hadn’t considered Tammy that strong a suspect, but maybe we’d missed something. “Are you saying that Tammy—”

  “Tammy is a good mother, and Dulcy belongs with her.”

  Finally I realized what he was worried about. “You think I’m trying to take Dulcy away from Tammy?”

  “I’m not stupid!” he snapped. “Maybe we didn’t go to college like you and that husband of yours, and maybe we don’t have the money Annabelle Lamar has, but we can take care of Dulcy just fine. I’m not about to let you take her away from us.”

  “Nobody is trying to take Dulcy away from you and Tammy.”

  “The hell you say!”

  I amended that to, “I mean, Richard and I don’t have anything to do with Mrs. Lamar trying to get custody of Dulcy.”

  He didn’t look convinced.

  “J.B., would Aunt Maggie let me do something like that?”

  He looked like he was thinking about it, and I could tell he wanted to believe me, but he said, “Then why have y’all been asking so many questions? Nobody believes that y’all want to become dealers. And why were you with Annabelle Lamar at the auction last night? I saw her leave right after you came inside, and then I heard that other woman talking about you and your husband investigating something. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re trying to dig up something on Tammy and me so Annabelle can take Dulcy away, but there’s nothing to dig up.”

  No wonder he was mad. “J.B., I was not with Mrs. Lamar.” He started to speak, but I talked right over him. “I saw her, but it was Mrs. Samples she was talking to, not me. Ask Mrs. Samples if you want to.”

  “Yeah, right,” he said, sounding skeptical. I didn’t blame him. My being outside at the same time as Annabelle was just a coincidence, but coincidences look bad sometimes. “Then why have you been asking questions?”

  I knew that if J.B. had killed Carney, I might be getting myself into worse trouble, but I didn’t think I could avoid telling him the truth. “We’re trying to find out who killed Carney Alexander. Aunt Maggie asked us to because she doesn’t think the police are doing a good job.”

  “She’s right about that. They’re more worried about one-upping each other than they are about catching a killer. But why bring you two into it?”

  “Because we’ve done this kind of thing before.” He looked skeptical again, so I added, “I’ve worked with Junior Norton on several cases.”

  He nodded, so I guess that was official enough for him.

  I said, “You don’t have to worry about me unless you killed Carney.”

  “Of course I didn’t kill Carney. What kind of man do you think I am?”

  I just looked at him.

  “I’m not like this, usually. Yeah, I got into trouble with the law a long time ago, but it ain’t ever going to happen again. Me and Tammy, we’ve got plans. Besides, I had no reason to go after Carney. He was a low-down snake, but if I killed every low-down snake in the world, there’d be a lot fewer people walking around.”

&
nbsp; He had a point, but he also had a reason to want that particular snake gone. “I heard Carney was the one who told Mrs. Lamar about your police record.”

  “I don’t know that for sure, but I think you’re right. I wanted to have a talk with him, but the cat was already out of the bag, and it wouldn’t do us any good to have me in jail for beating up Carney. There’s no way I’d have risked killing him, not when I knew that we’d lose Dulcy forever if I got caught.”

  That explained everything but the possibility of his killing Carney in the heat of anger, and what he said next put the kibosh on that idea.

  “Besides, if I’d killed Carney, I wouldn’t have settled for trying to scare you.”

  That was logical, if not comforting. Maybe it wasn’t evidence, but I was willing to take J.B. off our list of suspects. “Then like I said, you don’t have to worry about me.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” he said, sounding relieved that I believed him. I wondered if he’d been as scared of what I could do to him as I’d been of what he could do to me.

  J.B. remembered that we were still surrounded by bikers, and told them, “Y’all can go on home. I made a mistake—this lady isn’t trying to make any trouble.”

  The riders lifted their visors, and I felt right foolish. They weren’t exactly Hell’s Angels material. In fact, I recognized two of them from the church in Byerly. They looked like they felt foolish, too, and before they rode off, one of them muttered, “Sorry to alarm you, ma’am. We didn’t mean no harm.”

  Once the sound of their engines faded, I said, “No offense, but motorcycles sure are noisy. I’m surprised Bender and Rusty didn’t come running to see what all the commotion was about.”

  “I told him that me and some of my friends were going to be racing out here so he might want to keep Rusty out of the way,” J.B. said.

  No wonder they hadn’t come to my rescue. “While we’ve got some privacy, I’d like to ask you a couple of questions about Carney.”

  “I owe you that much for trying to scare you.”