A Pour Way to Dye (Book 2 in the Soapmaking Mysteries)

by Tim Myers

  I looked at my watch and saw that nearly three hours had passed since he’d left. “You’re kidding, right? Since when did we start taking extended lunch hours’?”

  “Don’t say anything to him.” Bob said.

  Jim added, “Yeah, we’ve already planned our lecture. He’s going to wish he’d scrubbed with lye soap by the tune we’re through with him.”

  “Take it easy on him. guys. He’s in love.”

  Neither one of them knew how to take that, especially coming from me.

  Bob asked, “You have any luck finding Grandpa?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “Have you been talking to our sisters?”

  Jim smiled. “Try to avoid them. They’ve been pestering us to go out and help you look, like we don’t have three orders we’re behind on already.” He put the rag down he’d been wiping his hands with and added, “We will, you know. Help you look for him. Just say the word.”

  Bob nodded. “Family comes first.”

  “Thanks, but I’m still not completely convinced he didn’t just bug out on me.”

  Jim said, “We’re just saying. Let us know if you change your mind.”

  “You two will be the first ones I ask.” I headed upstairs to my office, wanting to be alone with my thoughts for a little while.

  I wasn’t sure how long I sat there trying to figure out what my grandfather had stumbled into, and where he was right now. It was exactly like Paulus to take off without telling anyone, and if he hadn’t called me and insisted on meeting me at The Hound Dog, I would have just passed it off as one of his flights of fancy. As it stood, though, I knew something had happened to keep him from meeting me. The real question in my mind was whether his recent paranoia was justified. I knew better than anyone how investigating a murder could make you constantly look over your shoulder for the bad guys. Had the same thing happened to Paulus, or had he actually stumbled onto a clue? If he’d tipped his hand to the murderer, I knew he could be in serious trouble. I picked up the phone, started to call Molly, then thought better of it. I had to have more proof than a skipped lunch if I was going to convince her that something might have happened to him. I made a few calls instead, but no one had seen Paulus all day.

  It was time for drastic action. I knew how my grandfather felt about his privacy, and none of us were invited to his home except for special occasions. But it was time to snoop around his place to see if I could find anything that might tell me what he’d been up to, and what had thrown him into such a panic.

  It took me ten minutes to drive to Paulus’s house, but it was another fifteen before I got up the nerve to approach the front door. He lived in a large, rambling old place that needed a new roof and a good coat of paint. I’d once asked him why he hadn’t fixed it up, and he’d told me that the house was a lot like he was: seasoned and experienced without the need or desire to be something it wasn’t His response had been a little too esoteric for my tastes, but then that was Paulus through and through.

  I knew there were half a dozen keys hidden around the property, since Paulus was notorious for misplacing them. He’d stash one somewhere, forget where it was, then repeal the process until his place was an invitation to a burglar; though from the looks of it on the outside, any self-respecting thief would pass it by. Maybe there was a good reason for its lack of curb appeal after all.

  I checked under the mat, in the mailbox, and on the top door frame, but there weren’t any keys there. Maybe Paulus had changed his habits, but I doubted it. Most likely it just meant that I’d have to search a little harder.

  I finally found a key hiding under a whimsical elf that sat on the railing of his porch. Making a silent request for forgiveness from my grandfather, I used the key and slipped inside. The place was neat, and in surprising contrast to the exterior had been decorated tastefully with antiques. The hardwood floors were polished to a blinding shine, and the scent of lemons was everywhere, no doubt from the furniture polish my grandfather loved to use. I walked through the house, searching for something that might help me find him—or at the very least figure out what he’d been up to—when I spotted a note on the kitchen table.

  To my surprise, it was addressed to me.

  What was that about? I opened it and read, “Hi, Ben. You just couldn’t resist snooping around my place, could you? That’s a bad habit you’ve got there, sticking your nose in other people’s business. I’m sorry about lunch—I should have come—but I got skittish at the last minute, came back here to pack a bag, and the second I’m finished with this, I’m getting out of town.

  Take my advice and drop it, Ben. Molly’s on top of things, and she’s good at her job. So let her do it. She knows how to get in touch with me when this mess is settled. In the meantime, I’m taking a trip I’ve been dreaming about for quite a while now.

  Concentrate on what’s real and what’s not. That’s the most important advice I can give you. Paulus.”

  What in blazes did that mean? Had my grandfather finally slipped off the edge of the dock of sanity? And what about that ringing endorsement of Molly? He could tell her where he was, but none of us? Then I remembered wheedling his last known whereabouts out of Kate, and realized he probably was right.

  I couldn’t just leave it at that, though, not with my neck on the block. It was time to talk to Molly.

  I locked the house back up, stepped out onto the porch, and dialed her cell phone number.

  I was beginning to wonder if she was even going to pick up when she said breathlessly, “Wilkes.”

  “Hey, Molly, it’s Ben. We need to talk.”

  I could hear a sigh, then she said, “This isn’t a good time.”

  “I’ll bet,” I said, “but I need to speak with you, anyway. Where’s Paulus?”

  “I’m not getting into this with you right now,” she said.

  “Don’t hang up. If you do, I’ll just keep calling, and I know you can’t turn your phone off. Where is he?”

  “Out of Harper’s Landing,” she said. “That’s all you need to know. I’ve got to go.”

  “Why, are you on a big date?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t know. Tell Jeff I didn’t mean to interrupt your afternoon off.”

  There was a short bark of laughter. “I don’t think so. Good-bye.”

  She didn’t even wait for me to say good-bye myself. What was there left for me to do at the moment? It was close enough to closing time that I didn’t see any need to go back to the soap shop, especially when I didn’t have any answers to the questions I would surely get from my family. I wasn’t in any hurry to go to my apartment, either.

  Most times I enjoyed living by myself, but sometimes it was lonelier than I’d ever admit to anybody else.

  I drove downtown, got a sandwich and drink to go from a sub shop, and headed to Bartholomew Grant’s secret garden. It would be the perfect place to have a picnic for one.

  When I got there, though, the lights were already on. Bartholomew, or another member of his inner circle, was visiting the garden. Kept behind a gate and tall hedge, the rest of the world was mostly ignorant to the spectacular flower garden he kept improving in honor of his late wife Leah. Since that option was gone, and I didn’t feel like driving out to the dam, I decided to eat in the Miata right there. After I finished my meal, it was still too early to go home, and I found myself driving to Diana’s bookstore. I’d missed seeing her today in class, and she was exactly the kind of company I was in the mood for tonight. Maybe she could even recommend a new author to me. I was always on the lookout for fresh talent

  The store was crowded when I walked in, and Rufus, her ponytailed clerk, was busy helping customers. He nodded to me, and when there was a gap in his line, I asked, “Is Diana around?”

  “No, sorry, she’s off tonight. Again.” Another customer approached, and Rufus started ringing up his purchase. I browsed for a few minutes, then left without buying anything. As I drove back to my apartment, I could
n’t help wondering where Diana was. Out on another date, perhaps? It was none of my business—we’d only gone out once—but I still felt a twinge of jealousy.

  By the time I got to my place, I was in a dark mood. Maybe a movie and some microwave popcorn would help. I sat through the opening of The Godfather, flipped it off and grabbed a book, but I quickly put it back down. I just wasn’t in the mood to be entertained.

  As I undressed and got ready for bed, I felt a slip of paper in my pocket. I’d forgotten all about the note Cindy had given me.

  I took it out and saw that it was from Diana. This was my day to get correspondence.

  Ben, sorry I missed you today. If you’d like to call me tonight, go ahead, no matter how late it is. I’m visiting my aunt and uncle in Hunter’s Hollow tonight, but I’ll be back around ten.

  Diana.

  PS I had a wonderful time last night. Thanks again for asking.

  I glanced at the clock and saw that it was a little before ten. Should I call her, or wait until my mood wasn’t quite so dark? Finally, I decided talking to her might just be the exact thing I needed.

  She answered before it even had the chance to ring twice. “Hello?”

  “I just got your note,” I said. “How were your aunt and uncle?”

  “Ben,” she said happily, the delight obvious in her voice. “I was hoping you’d call. They’re fine. My uncle is building a boat in the basement, and he’s just about finished. There’s just one problem.” “What’s that?” I asked.

  “It’s too big to get through the door.” Her laughter was delightful, and I found my mood starting to lighten. “Is he devastated?”

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? He’s looking at it as a challenge, and knowing my uncle, he’ll figure something out. When I left, he was trying to talk my aunt into letting him put hinges on the house so he could just lift it up. They are absolutely hilarious. So how was your day? I missed you in class.”

  “Sorry about that. I had to take care of some family business.”

  She hesitated, then said, “Listen, this may be out of line, and if it is just tell me, but if you need some help looking into Earnest Joy’s murder, I’m right here. I’ve been reading mysteries my entire life, and I’ve gotten pretty good at figuring them out.”

  “I wish it were that simple,” I said. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “That’s fine, but I’m here if you need me. Ben, it’s so nice to hear your voice.”

  “It’s good hearing yours, too.” And it was. My mood had lifted considerably just listening to her tales of her family. We talked for nearly an hour before saying our good-byes, and I didn’t have a single problem getting to sleep after our conversation.

  It was good having Diana in my life, and I’d thought of Kelly only a few times that day. Maybe I was going to be able to move on, after all.

  Chapter 9

  I was at The Hound Dog the next morning eating my breakfast before work when I glanced over my shoulder and saw Ralph Haller come in. The last time I’d spoken to the man, he’d accused me of murder and had nearly come after me, even with Molly standing beside me.

  I ducked down in my booth and listened to his footstep approach. Had he seen me? I braced myself for another confrontation when I heard him say nearly in my ear, “How are you doing, you wretched piece of garbage?”

  I was starting to stand up when another voice said “Look who’s talking? At least I’ve never been in prison.”

  “Not that you didn’t deserve it a time or two,” Ralph said as he slid into the booth directly behind me.

  The other man said, “Deserving’s one thing, but doing the time’s another.”

  “That’s ancient history, McGregor. What looks good today?”

  “Ruby’s sporting a new hairdo,” his companion said.

  “I’m talking about food, you tire iron. Tell you what. Order me a stack of pancakes and some eggs. I’ve got to hit the can.”

  “You’re a charmer, Ralph, you know that, don’t you?”

  I waited until I heard Ralph’s footsteps retreat to the restroom, then I took off, leaving half my meal still on my plate. I threw a ten to Ruby and left before Ralph came back out and saw me.

  Once I was back at Where There’s Soap, I started wondering about the conversation the two men had shared. Could it be true that Ralph had spent time in prison? I wondered what he’d been convicted of. Maybe murder, or aggravated assault. Could he have killed Earnest Joy, then planted the soap in his left hand to divert Molly’s attention toward the Perkins clan? I had to know. I thought about calling Molly, but her scolding the afternoon before still stung, and I wasn’t in the mood to get another lecture at the moment. If I found something a little more concrete I’d go to her, but not until then.

  It was a miracle that nobody bothered me in my office all morning. I waited around until the library was open, then left as quickly as I could. It was time to dig into the past. If Paulus had been around I would have asked him, but as it was, I was going to have to do my research the old-fashioned way.

  “I need some help,” I asked the librarian behind the reference desk. She was a petite red-haired woman with a quick smile and a ready laugh. Her nametag read, Corki.

  “That’s why I’m here,” she said. “What are you looking for?”

  “I’ve got a man’s name and a rumor that he went to prison a long time ago, and I need to know what happened to send him there. His name’s Ralph Haller. The only problem is, I’m not sure when he was convicted, except that it was sometime thirty or forty years ago.”

  Corki smiled quickly. “I love a challenge first thing in the morning. Let’s see, I’ll start you on the microfilm of our newspaper archives while I make a few phone calls.”

  “I don’t want to be a bother,” I said.

  “Please,” she said. “This is my idea of fun.”

  “Then you need to get out more,” I said.

  “Is that an invitation or a general observation? I’m a married woman, you know.”

  I stammered, “Well, it’s not that I... I mean ...”

  She watched me squirm a moment longer, then said, “I’m just teasing. Before you start digging, let’s try something else first.”

  Corki leaned into her terminal and started typing at a fierce pace. Every now and then she’d nod, pause, then tap a few more keys. “Okay, here’s what I’ve found so far. There’s no Ralph Haller on the Internet listings for convictions in North Carolina in the time frame you’re talking about.”

  “Sorry I wasted your time,” I said as I started to leave.

  “Hold on a second. You don’t truly believe I’m going to give up that easily, do you? I did an alternate search for Ralph H convictions, and I’ve got five possibilities for you.” She handed me a sheet with five dates printed on it. “You can check the newspaper stories while I keep digging.”

  She led me to a corner where the microfilm was stored, along with two ancient viewers. “I’m afraid you’ll have to search by hand. This system is antiquated, but it’s the best we can do with our budget.”

  “This is fine,” I said.

  “Do you know how to work the machine?”

  I nodded. “Back when I went to college, this was state of the art.”

  “You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to teach the kids how to use this equipment. If you find anything before I do, come tell me.”

  “Thanks again,” I said as she stacked four reels of film ion the desk.

  “I haven’t even gotten started yet,” she said.

  I threaded the filmstrip through the viewer, then flipped on the lamp. Only then did I realize that I’d put it in upside down and backwards. Quickly correcting my mistake, I started scrolling through the dates until I got to the first entry. It was the wrong Ralph, as well as the next one, but on my third try, I found him. Age hadn’t been a friend to him over the years, but there was no mistaking that chin and prominent nose of his. I scanned t
he article until I found what I was looking for.

  Ralph Haliford—not Ralph Haller as he was going by now—had been convicted thirty years ago. I held my breath as I scanned the article, hoping it would show something that dovetailed into Earnest Joy’s murder. No such luck. Haliford had been an inept burglar, getting himself caught in the mayor’s house with a bag of stolen swag. As far as I could tell, it was another dead end.

  Just to have a record of it, I fed the machine a quarter and hit the print button, but all I got was a black image on the paper.

  Corki came up behind me. “Sorry, it’s broken. But I found something else you might be interested in.”

  “Thanks anyway, but I have just what I need.”

  I started to take the tape out of the machine when she said, “Go ahead, I’ll take care of this.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  She shrugged. “Why not? It’s quiet right now, and I’d rather stay busy than get bored.”

  I left the library, wondering what to do next. Ralph might be an ex-con, but that didn’t automatically make him a murderer. Still, I wondered if Molly knew about his record. I thought about calling her, but our last conversation hadn’t gone very well and I wasn’t really looking forward to getting spanked again. I’d just have to take it though. She needed to know.

  ‘Wilkes,” she said when she answered her phone.

  “Hey, it’s Ben,” I said.

  Her voice was chilled as she said, “What do you want?”

  “First off, I’d like to apologize.”

  She paused, then said, “Go on, you’ve got my attention. What are you apologizing for?”

  “It’s about yesterday. I’m sorry I interrupted your date. It was purely unintentional. I hope you know that.”

  “Is that it?” she asked, clearly not satisfied with the level of my remorse.

  “For the apology, yes. There’s something else, though.”

  “Now how did I know there would be?”

  Boy, she surely wasn’t making this any easier on me. “Did you know that Earnest Joy’s neighbor, Ralph Haller, is really Ralph Haliford, and that the reason he’s living under an assumed name is because he served time in prison?”