by Beth Urich
“Why would I do that?”
“Who knows?”
“If you’re going to make fun of me, we have nothing to discuss.”
“I’m sorry. Tell me why you’re upset.” He brushed her hand, then held it until she withdrew. His blue eyes had always had a calming effect on her.
She tilted her head to one side blocking the rising sun with one hand. “You promised to let me know what was found on the lot.”
“But I did. We sent a press release this morning.”
She rolled her eyes. “To begin with, the press release said nothing. Furthermore, I expected advance notice from an old friend.”
“I did. I mean, I tried. I left a message on your car phone and I paged you.”
“You did not.”
“Several times.”
Her anger returned. “That’s not possible!”
He squeezed his lips together and hesitated a moment before lowering his voice. “Have you checked your voicemail? Your pager?”
“My pager is fine.” She reached into the outside pocket of her portfolio, grasped the square object, and waved it in front of his face. “See?”
“Yeah, fine but off.”
She examined the switch, then remembered muting it to ignore Helen’s repeated calls. “I’m sorry,” she said.
He grinned and said, “Guess I should’ve sent a patrol car to track you down.”
“That would have been more efficient. You should have known when I didn’t return your call something was wrong.”
“What? This is my fault? What do you want from me, Katherine Margaret Starling?”
She took a step closer, and then stared directly into his eyes.
“Uh-oh,” he whispered.
“I want you to tell me everything you know about the skeleton you found yesterday.”
“Everything is in the press release. I swear. The coroner is trying to find an expert to help us. We probably won’t know anything for weeks. Besides, you know I can’t tell you anything until we make an official statement.”
“Yes. You’ve mentioned that once or twice.”
She pivoted around and headed for the parking lot before Tom could say more.
KATE’S FRUSTRATION had not abated by the time she entered the restaurant. Shirley Barrens, her best friend since kindergarten, was already sitting in a booth toward the middle of the room. Kate scooted across the bench, tossing her purse to the far side.
“Are we a bit huffy?” Shirley asked.
“Not at all,” Kate replied.
“I’ve known you a long time. Remember?”
Kate shrugged as she drummed the table with her index and middle fingers.
Shirley pointed toward the noise. “See. Dead giveaway. Tapping does not lie.”
“Okay, I had a little disagreement with His Exalted Detectiveness.”
Shirley’s amusement was palpable.
“And what did Tom do to offend your sensibilities this time?”
“I’m not sure I like your implication.”
“Shoe fits, does it?”
“Let’s order. I have an appointment in about ninety minutes with Leatherman.”
“Already ordered,” Shirley said. “Don’t be so surprised. You know you always have the same thing.”
“Did you call your friend in Forsyth?”
“Let’s talk about you and Tom.”
“We can’t get past his stubbornness.”
“His stubbornness?”
Kate stared at her friend. “Okay, I can’t separate my boyfriend from the detective.”
“I’m sure the relationship is difficult, especially when you deal with him professionally,” Shirley said. “But you need to talk about it. You and I are best friends, Katie.”
“I know.”
“Why then, have we never discussed your breakup with Tom all those years ago?”
Kate squirmed in the seat and glared at her friend. “I don’t discuss that day,” she said.
“You need to,” Shirley said.
“It was an impetuous mistake. There. Are you satisfied?”
“Not really.”
“I regretted our argument. I regretted it even more when he started dating Linda, but not nearly as much as when they married and moved to Kansas City two years later.”
“I’m guessing you and Tom haven’t discussed this.”
“Did you call your friend in Forsyth?” Kate asked, changing the subject.
“Okay, but we’re not finished with this.”
“Understood, but let’s move on right now.”
“The property was purchased by Clay and Henrietta Stupholds in 1929.”
“You’re kidding,” Kate said.
Shirley continued, “A superseding deed was filed in favor of Riverside Mercantile on October 23, 1942, and another on April 22, 1945. The last deed added Randall John Brighton and Henrietta Stupholds as co-owners.”
“That means that Fortune Enterprises must have a stake in it somehow.”
“You interrupted me.”
“Sorry,” Kate said, gesturing for Shirley to continue.
“Fortune Enterprises, incorporated in 1971, began paying taxes in 1973.”
“But no new deed?”
“Nothing since 1945.”
“Very interesting.”
“It makes sense given what I found out. The company has three officers listed with Missouri: Randall John Brighton, President; Henrietta Stupholds, Vice President; and Randall John Brighton Jr., Secretary/Treasurer.”
“You know what else?” Kate tapped her index finger on Shirley’s hand.
“Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“I’m not sure about the sequence of events, but I’m guessing the original mercantile was on that land. Nothing’s been there since I can remember. Maybe Etta can help with an interesting angle for the series.”
“Hey, if there’s an angle, you’ll find it.”
“Thanks for your confidence.”
Chapter Five
Leatherman’s secretary acknowledged Kate’s presence immediately as she grabbed an envelope from her desk and came to the counter. “I checked with Mr. Leatherman. He said to copy what’s in the file for you.”
“I appreciate it,” Kate said, weighing the envelope with both hands. “Seems a bit light.”
“I copied everything.”
“I’m sure you did. And I hope you take up my offer for lunch,” Kate said.
“I guess that would be okay.”
“How about I check with you in a few days. This week is crazy with all the stuff happening in town.”
“No problem. I usually go right at noon.”
Kate nodded. “I wonder if I could ask for the file on one more location.”
“Sure. What’s the address?”
“The lot at Commercial and St. Limas, not far from the lake.”
“Where the skeleton was found.”
“Yes. That’s the one,” Kate said, hoping that would not make a difference.
“Let me check.” Claire checked her computer then walked across the room to the line of file cabinets. She took out a folder and fingered through it as she returned to the counter. “Not much in the file,” she said, placing the folder in front of Kate.
“Can I get a copy of everything for my background file?”
“Be back in a sec.” Claire took the folder and disappeared to the area between the suite and the courtroom returning in a few minutes.
Kate added the newly copied pages to the envelope and headed to Etta’s house. She learned long ago showing up is the best way to schedule a meeting.
Etta was in her rocker on the front porch when Kate parked. She waved from her car, and then met Etta at the top of the steps.
“Hope this isn’t a bad time. I have a few follow-up questions for the next article.”
“Come on up. Let’s sit outside. Such a beautiful fall day.”
Kate sat in one of the large wicker chairs and savored the panorama. �
��This is very much like the view from our back porch,” she said.
“You’re married?”
“No. I live with my father in the house behind his hotel.”
“Where you grew up?”
“Yes. I moved back a couple years ago, after—”
Etta interrupted, “I’m sorry. You’ll have to forgive this old woman. I forgot all about the trouble with your dad. He was such a nice boy when he worked for Clay.”
“You remember him?”
“Absolutely. He had quite a crush on me, you know. He was a hard worker. I knew he couldn’t have killed that man. I was real relieved when they dropped the charges.”
“Thanks. I’m glad everything worked out too.” Kate handed Etta the latest issue of Branson Daily News. “I brought this for you. Your first article is in it.”
“Already have a copy,” Etta said proudly. “Sarah dropped it by for me. You did a good job. Made it sound like an interesting life. Of course, I’ve noticed things sound a lot better in retrospect, especially if you leave out the gruesome details.”
“Well, we can put those in this next article,” Kate said with a smile. “Still okay to use this?” she asked as she turned on her small recorder.
“You bet. What do you want to know?”
Kate didn’t skip a beat. “About the lot you own downtown. The one across the railroad tracks on Commercial, not far from Lake Taneycomo.”
Etta furrowed her brow and stared toward the woods.
“Do you know where I mean?” Kate asked after a few moments.
“Sorry, brings back some memories, I guess. Clay and I, we built our store on that lot. We’d been married a few years, lived with my folks at first. We had to move in with Clay’s parents when his older brother left home. We stayed with them a while, but Clay decided it would be good to get our own place. Even though Clay helped with his family farm, he had a job in town too. I brought in a little money selling my crafts and tending kids and such. We were able to buy that old lot with some help from a friend. Clay’s father said if we moved out, we’d be on our own. By then, that was fine with us.”
“When did you move out?”
“It was twenty-nine when we bought it, not long before all hell broke loose in the East. Clay built a small shack for us and we moved in that summer. He built the store in front of the shack with help from friends. They all knew about the situation between Clay and his father. You won’t put all this in the article, will you?”
Kate shook her head. “Not if you don’t want me to. How long did you live behind the store?”
“For a year or so. Business was good. We weren’t far from the lake and the railroad station. We had a little money saved when Clay fell into a deal with some other folks to buy quite a bit of acreage out here. It was a long way from town then.”
“What was the store called?” Kate said, glancing at her notes.
Etta rocked out of the chair and walked toward the stairs. “Clay put a big sign over the front entrance. Mercantile,” Etta said, gesturing with her hands above her head, “but everyone called it the Riverside Mercantile. I called it Clay’s store.”
“What happened to the store when your husband died in 1942?”
Etta turned to face Kate. “I guess you might say I merged my business with our friend Jack’s store. I took our inventory and the name and moved higher to the building at Commercial and Main Streets.”
“Where the Fortune Enterprises flagship store is today?”
“That’s the place,” Etta said. “All those pictures in the album were of our Riverside Mercantile, not Clay’s.”
“You’re speaking of Jack Brighton, your friend Jack?”
“We grew up together, my best friend next to Clay,” Etta said.
“Did Jack’s wife work there as well?”
“Neither Lillian, Jack’s wife, nor Lex’s wife Tory worked at the store. Just Lex, Jack and I ran Riverside. Of course, Jack’s son Randy and Lex’s boy Bryan helped out, but they were young kids.”
“The Bryan Porter who owns the big flea market on the west end of town?”
Etta nodded. “Bryan worked for a year or so after we merged until his father quit to start his own business. That’s probably why Bryan left, but he wasn’t particularly interested in hard work. He seemed to have a bit of a chip on his shoulder all the time.”
“But Randy stayed with the store,” Kate said.
“No, he joined the army during World War II. He served through the Korean Conflict, as they called it. He’d had some issues in high school, but the army straightened him out. Got out and got a college degree. Jack was so proud of him. When he left the service, he tried making his own way for a while in St. Louis but came back to help Jack run the business.”
“I knew you were a good source. You have lots of stories to tell.”
Etta gazed directly into Kate’s eyes. “Something else you need to know. Maybe you already do, but I need to be sure.”
“Okay,” Kate said, still processing the Bryan Porter link.
Etta leaned back against the column beside the stairs and said, “Clay killed himself. Had his reasons, I suppose. The note didn’t make much sense, but I know he was having a bad time with things. Personal demons, I guess.” She pushed to a standing position. “I don’t talk about this. I sure don’t want to read about it in the paper. But you needed to find out from me.”
“I appreciate your telling me. I promise I won’t say or write anything about it.”
Etta said, “I know we didn’t talk about the crafts fair, but I need to go in and lie down.”
“I’ll come back some other time, if that’s okay. You’ve been a big help with my questions. I hope I didn’t upset you, bringing up memories about your husband.”
“Only one bad memory about Clay. But you couldn’t have known. I do better in the mornings. I usually go down to the realty office to help Marge. Maybe you can come down some day before noon.”
“It’s a date. Thanks Etta,” Kate said, stifling an impulse to hug the octogenarian.
Chapter Six
Tom checked the tables close to the entrance, then scanned the bar stools for his friend Gary Wyler, the other half of the most value players duo for the Branson Pirates football team two years running—albeit many years ago. As usual, Marvin Selman, another school chum, was tending bar.
“He’s in the back, Tom. Bring you a cool one?”
Tom nodded and grabbed a bowl of pretzels on his way to a table in the dimly lit corner by the emergency exit. Gary Wyler raised his beer bottle and shook it upside down.
“Better make that a round,” Tom called back over his shoulder.
Gary stood up and pulled a chair out for his former quarterback. “How the hell are you, buddy? Long time no see.”
“You’re looking good. Getting lots of fresh air and exercise, I bet.”
“I’ll say. We’re turning jobs away every day. So much construction going on in town. It’s like San Francisco after an earthquake.”
Tom smiled. Gary could never resist the strange-but-true analogies.
“Fredo, my man,” Gary said as the bartender put the two beers on the table. He took one and held it up to toast and Tom did the same.
“I’ve never understood why you call him that.”
“Too long ago to remember, but here’s to old friends.” He clinked his bottle against Tom’s and took a long pull. “So, what’s up? I haven’t heard from you in months. Let’s see it was that Saturday you and Katie came for dinner.”
“Yeah, I guess it was,” Tom said, remembering the uncomfortable evening.
Gary said, “Hard to believe that was almost six months ago. She was sure mad at you about something. Bet you had to make up for whatever it was big time.”
“We haven’t been out since. We don’t speak except professionally and even that is low-grade civil.”
“Whoa, I’m sorry. Haven’t been able to rekindle that old flame, huh?”
“We were oka
y for a while after I came back to Branson. Unfortunately, our professional lives seem to interfere.”
“She’s pretty stubborn.”
“Hell, she may still be mad I got married and moved away after she dumped me.”
“Go figure.” Gary grinned and took another drink.
Tom let the comment go with a shrug.
“You know ... talk about a coincidence ... Katie called me yesterday. If I knew you were having problems, I’d have put in a good word.”
“Not sure that would help. Why’d she call?”
“Sorry, buddy. Wasn’t about you. She had some questions about the construction business in Branson. Said she was doing a story.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Believe it or not, I don’t remember exactly. We spoke for a while. She asked general things about current business, inspections, stuff like that. Does it matter?”
“No big deal. Never know what she might be cooking up.”
“Yeah, I’ve read some of her articles in the paper. She has quite an imagination.”
“No kidding,” Tom said before changing the subject. “Seen any of the guys lately?”
“Not many of the boys around anymore. Always good to see your smiling face.”
“That goes both ways.”
“We don’t get together like we used to.” Gary went on at length about the rest of the team, how they’d been inseparable the first year or so after high school, then drifted into separate lives. After several minutes, Tom eased the conversation in a different direction.
“Hard to make friends at work when you’re the big cheese.”
“Ain’t that the truth? Who’d ever guess I’d be the boss man one day.”
“Not Coach Parstons. That’s for sure.”
“Yeah. He used to scowl at me, shake his head, and say ...”
Tom joined his friend in the quote. “... once an end always an end.”
“Wouldn’t he be surprised?” Gary snickered.
“So, how’s it going? You’re working on the new office complex, right?”
Gary scrutinized the room, before saying, “You know, I’ve been with the company for ten years, worked my way up. I’ve done every job at a construction site. And I’m damn good at all of them.” He motioned to Marvin for another round. “We’ve been the general contractor on two major theaters and four hotels, and I’ve worked on most of those. But I’ll be damned if I understand what’s up with all the hurdles we’re jumping over for this piddling office building.”
