"Why, I feel we should exchange numbers after this. We're spending so much time together. It's as if we're becoming the best of friends." She was certainly jovial for a possible killer.
I laughed. "I suppose I have spent an inordinate amount of time with you. It's just that you're so friendly and generous with your insight and information." She was absolutely someone who liked flattery, and my words had widened her smile.
"Yes, I'm not quite as stuffy and uppity as some of the others." She put down her shears. "Honestly, I don't know how some people keep customers with the way they treat people. Henrietta was like that. If any customer dared to give her anything lower than five stars, she would confront them. Not a great way to conduct business." One thing was clear, she had no respect for Henrietta Lopez. Not exactly enough for a motive, but I wasn't going to give up my newest theory.
"I heard the most interesting thing about you," I said.
She had her wavy gray hair pinned back with clips. Her brows were mostly penciled in. They arched in question. "You did? What on earth could you have heard?" There was a smidgen of suspicion in her tone.
"Prudence Mortimer is my boss. She told me your father was their family doctor and that you used to go along as his assistant when you were young."
The nostalgic story erased the concern in her expression. She smiled and laughed. "Yes, I remember the Mortimers." She laughed again. "Prudence used to put on such a show when she was about to get a shot. She would scream and holler and run around the house until her daddy would finally yell at her to stop acting like a baby."
I tucked that bit of information away for use when Prudence was acting especially bossy. "That's funny. Too bad there weren't cell phones back then. I would love to have seen one of those tantrums."
Juniper crinkled her nose. "Prudence is a bit stuffy, isn't she? Just like the women at the Crafting Society. Can you imagine if the rest of us walked around with such lofty, overblown opinions of ourselves?" I had to admit, nothing about Juniper screamed killer. She was pleasant and down to earth, and I agreed with her about lofty, stuffy people. They were annoying.
I couldn't let her easy going demeanor distract me from my mission. "I guess that means you know a lot about medicine."
She blushed. "Daddy taught me a lot. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps, but all that college and studying just wasn't for me. I fancied myself more of an artist than a scientist. However, I must admit, I've got a good head for science, biology and medicine."
A woman came up to the booth. I stepped aside so Juniper could help her. "I've been admiring this one with the little church," the woman said. "How much is it?"
"Oh, that one is not for sale, but I have another one with a church right over here." Juniper pointed to another garden on the opposite side of the booth.
The woman's question had pulled my gaze to the church garden. Interestingly enough, Juniper had added a third gravestone to the tiny graveyard. "A third gravestone," I muttered and drew in a sharp, excited breath when a new idea popped into my head. I didn't have time to look closer at the garden before Juniper returned, holding the other church scene. It was a little smaller, and there was no graveyard, just a tiny church with a pointy steeple.
The woman smiled politely at me as she waited for Juniper to write up a receipt. She then glanced around at the kiosk. "I see you don't have one of those gold seals for the Crafting Society like I've seen on some of the other booths," the woman noted. "Your gardens are so pretty. You should join the society. Some of my friends will only shop at the vendors who have the gold seal." The woman obviously had no idea how the Crafting Society worked.
I waited for Juniper's response. Her mouth had pulled tight as she wrote the receipt. She ripped the receipt from the pad with vigor and handed it to her with a forced smile. "I couldn't be bothered with joining that silly society. There is no purpose to it. You have to pay dues, and all you get is a paper gold star. Tell your friends they are paying inflated prices by shopping at those vendors. They raise prices to make up for the membership dues. I prefer to invest the money into my business and keep my prices reasonable." Another forced smile. "Let me get you some care directions for your garden."
I was determined to get a closer look at the church garden, but I would have to wait until Juniper took a break. It seemed I had no choice except to do some shopping. Katy's booth was closed up. Someone had packed up all her wreaths and people were placing flowers and cards in front of the empty kiosk. The same thing was happening at Henrietta's empty booth. It was an unusual craft fair, indeed, and my intuition told me it was about to get weirder.
Chapter 33
After browsing all the kiosks, I had enough information for a mundane, sweet article about local artisans and all their lovely wares. As I shopped and perused the goods, I tried to pry information out of the other vendors. The general consensus was that Henrietta Lopez took her role as president of the Crafting Society far too seriously, and along the way, she and her cohorts hurt a lot of feelings. Some people weren't terribly surprised that Henrietta was dead. Katy Michaels had always been part of the membership committee, so she'd been part of the rejection process as well. Other members had been part of it here and there, but Henrietta and Katy were the top officers, the ones with the power to reject memberships.
As the lunch hour rolled around, I hung closer to Juniper's kiosk, waiting for her to take a break. As the hours passed, my reasoning for taking a more scrutinizing look at the church garden became less clear. My newest theory was beginning to sound wacky. I was starting to think I was no closer to finding the killer, but the second I caught a glimpse of Juniper hanging up her closed for lunch sign, I jumped into action. However, my action was interrupted by a call from Jackson.
"Hey, Bluebird, thought you'd like to know I'm on my way to a farm off Smoky Highway. Looks like we might have another victim. A woman has been found dead in her chicken coop. I'm heading out to check the scene right now."
"Do you know if she has been there long?" I asked.
"Husband said he was out in the field with the cows. He doesn't know when she walked out to the coop, but she usually feeds the hens around ten. So not long. Why do you ask?"
"If it happened between ten o'clock and now, then my newest theory just unraveled. Darn it."
"Mine too possibly," he said dejectedly.
I strolled off the main path to a cluster of trees where my conversation couldn't be heard. "I want to hear your theory to see if it came close to mine. Not that it matters too much now because I'm back at square one."
"I was zeroing in on Violet Harville. It turns out she was not at the fair during the hours of Katy's murder. Hey, wait a minute, are you at the fair right now?"
"Been here since eight this morning. And if you're asking because you want me to let you know if your theory still holds water, the answer is that Violet Harville has been here all morning. There are far more shoppers today. I guess the shock of the deaths has already worn off."
"That's what I figured. I don't know enough about this latest victim to tie things together. I'll keep you posted."
"All right."
"Wait, you never told me your theory," he said before hanging up.
"Well, it doesn't matter too much now because Juniper has been here all morning too."
"Juniper? Is that the lady with the mini gardens? Actually, she is on the list of vendors who were not in their kiosks during Katy Michaels' murder. At least according to people who were there. The lack of shoppers sent some people off to do errands and eat early lunches."
"That's right. Emily was at the fair that morning. I met her at her house for lunch. Or, rather, that was the hour I went to her farm to raid her refrigerator for goodies. But she came back empty handed and said a lot of the vendors had closed up because of the lack of shoppers. That was when I realized Katy Michaels was at her farm instead of the fair."
"The list I have is pretty long, but if this new victim turns out be part of the investiga
tion, it'll be easy to take some names off the list. I suppose we can cross off Violet and Juniper."
"I suppose so, darn it. Let me know what you find out. By the way, when you arrive at the scene this time, a certain intrepid reporter won't be there to meet you and fill you in on details. Darn it," I repeated. "See you later."
There wasn't much reason to check out Juniper's little garden graveyard. Since I'd lingered at the fair all morning for my chance, I decided to follow through.
I glanced around. There was no sign of Juniper. I headed across to her kiosk. For the first time, the graveyard garden wasn't sitting prominently at the front counter. She had moved it to the back and placed it on a lower shelf in between a park-picnic scene complete with a trail of tiny plastic ants and picnic basket and a quaint scene with a Victorian mansion sitting amongst carved boxwoods and small plants trimmed to look like weeping willows.
I had no choice but to sneak inside the kiosk. I circled around behind the walls of pegboard that made up the back wall of the booth. Juniper had blocked the entrance of the kiosk with a table and chair. I glanced around and didn't seem to have anyone's attention. I crouched down and crab-walked under the counter.
I stayed in a crouched position and waddled over to the garden with the graveyard. Most of Juniper's critters and buildings were store bought and crafted from painted resin. The upright tombstones were no different. Each stone had the letters RIP etched into the resin, all done at the factory where they were made. But there was a tiny addition to each stone, hand painted symbols. The first stone had a teensy pair of scissors drawn from silver paint. The next tombstone had a wreath with black roses, each flower painted intricately. The silhouette of a goat had been painted on the third tombstone.
My myriad of thoughts gelled together right then. I was so stunned at what I'd discovered, I shot straight up and crowned myself on the shelf above. The gardens on the shelf above rattled and shifted. Fortunately, nothing fell.
I held my breath to brace against the pain in my skull. I crawled back out of the kiosk and sat there behind the pegboard walls, rubbing the newly growing bump on the top of my head. It hurt badly, but it had all been worth it.
"Violet," I whispered. Even the effort of a whisper made my head throb. I stood up and was relieved to find that smacking my head had not made me dizzy. I needed my head clear so I could figure out my next move. Three tiny hand painted headstones were hardly evidence of multiple murders, but it sure seemed as if I'd found the culprit. I just wasn't sure how the newest victim fit into it all. Did Juniper have an accomplice?
Ignoring the upcoming headache, I hurried out from behind the kiosk. Juniper was still at lunch, and nobody seemed to notice me. I headed straight toward Violet's goat milk stand. I couldn't very well come right out and blurt that she was going to be the next victim. For one thing, I didn't know it for certain. There was still the inconsistency with today's victim that needed clarification. So far, all I had was a thin motive. Juniper had been turned down for a membership in the Crafting Society. The only real evidence was the three hand painted tombstones and the fact that she was on Jackson's list of artists who left the fair during Katy's murder. Her medical knowledge could be wedged in there as well, but it was hardly conclusive. It wasn't much, but I forged ahead, throbbing skull and all.
Violet had just finished with a customer as I walked up. I picked up one of her cards for later. Goat milk soap bars would make a nice going away gift for the Cider Ridge guests. My newest business idea was going to be my opener for our conversation.
The customer walked away with her brown paper bag filled with fragrant bars of soap. Violet turned to me with a salesperson smile. "You're the reporter. I hear you're going to be mentioning specific shops in your article. Please don't forget mine."
I showed her the business card. "I've got all the information right here. And I had a great idea I'd like to propose. I'm going to be opening the Cider Ridge Inn next year."
"I heard that from some of the other artists. We're all looking forward to staying at the inn." She leaned closer. "Is it true the place is haunted?" Violet set about restacking some of the soaps into neat pyramids. Her question had caught me off guard, but I had a rehearsed answer ready to go.
I laughed heartily. "No, unfortunately it only looks haunted. Soon, it will be entirely refurbished and ghost free." If she only knew what a lie that was.
Her lips pouted out. "Too bad, I was kind of hoping to meet a ghost during my stay." Not surprising considering she was one of Raine's clients.
I laughed again. "Sorry, it'll just be a bed and breakfast. But I'm thinking of adding one of your soaps to a goodie bag for guests on their way out."
Her eyes lit up. "That would be amazing. We can definitely work on a plan. I'll even brew up a special fragrance just for your inn. That way the only way people can get that soap is by staying at the inn."
I hadn't expected my investigation to lead to something so marvelous but I loved the idea. "That's fantastic." I put the card into my pocket. "I'll call you when we get closer to opening day. By the way, I'll bet you're waiting for this fair to be over. It's been quite an event. Did you know Henrietta and Katy well?"
"Yes but only because I was part of the Crafting Society for a few years. Until I couldn't take the haughty attitudes and callous rejection of other artists. Sometimes it shames me to think I was part of that whole thing."
I pressed farther. "Were you part of the membership committee? Did you vote to reject some fellow artists?" It was an awkward question, and it raised her hackles a bit.
"Why do you ask?"
I was in a conundrum. I had no right to warn Violet that Juniper was a killer and that she might be the next victim. There just wasn't enough evidence. At the same time my sense of duty to keep someone safe was in overdrive.
"I just think you should be extra vigilant. You know, look over your shoulder now and then." I realized then that I sounded either crazed or threatening. I lightened up. "I just thought because two other members of the society are dead so—"
Her flawless skin turned marble white. "You think it has something to do with the membership committee?" Color returned to her cheeks and a light laugh followed. "I don't think anyone took their rejection that seriously. I mean, sure feelings were hurt but—" She seemed to be rethinking her assessment, and some of the pink drained away. "I suppose it can't hurt to be extra cautious."
A group of customers descended on her kiosk to buy soaps and lotions. I nodded politely. "I will be calling you soon to discuss the soap for the inn."
"Yes, looking forward to working with you." She spun around to her customers. "Ladies, would you like to try my newest ginger and orange scented hand lotion?"
My phone beeped with a text from Jackson. "False alarm. The woman died of an apparent heart attack. I'm off on another call. Don't do anything dangerous."
"Never," I texted back.
I pushed my phone into my coat pocket and immediately hatched my plan to catch a killer.
Chapter 34
An unexpected, brisk late afternoon wind brought in a clump of dark, foreboding clouds. I'd grown weary of the outdoors, and chill was starting to settle into my bones. For the time being, Juniper was busy with customers, and therefore, unable to commit murder. I spent a few hours sitting in my jeep in the parking area watching the cars come and go. It was easy enough to spot which ones belonged to vendors. They were mostly vans and trucks for transporting their wares, and the vehicles remained while the other cars came and went. It was easy to spot Violet's truck due to the sticker on the passenger side window with her company goat logo. Finding Juniper's took a little more time, but a half empty soil bag and a bag of glass stones, like those used in her tiny ponds, sat on the passenger seat of a white cargo van. I walked around the entire van and peered through the two back windows, hoping I'd spot something telling like a box of syringes, but the van seemed to be filled with tools, potting soil and plant containers. The only thing that could be
deemed somewhat incriminating was the box of latex gloves, but there could be numerous reasons to pull on gloves. It wasn't enough.
A light drizzle started to fall an hour before the fair was set to close. The cold, dreary weather helped hurry out the remaining shoppers. For the rest of the afternoon, I'd felt secure enough to let Violet out of my sight. There was no way for Juniper to murder someone in the middle of shoppers and activity. Now that things were slowing down, it was time for me to head back into the fair.
I walked around a few kiosks, so Juniper wouldn't see me. I glanced between some banners and saw that she was busy counting the money in her cash box. The fair had emptied quickly. The vendors were making fast work of cleaning up by moving things under tarps and into storage containers in case the drizzle turned to rain. The one vendor who I would have expected to be frantically putting away her goods was Violet. Soap and a rainstorm seemed like a sudsy disaster waiting to happen, but she wasn't in her booth. Her vulnerable soaps were still piled high on their trays.
The woman with the jewelry stand across the way noticed me standing at Violet's booth. "She asked me to watch her stand. She went to the bathroom about twenty minutes ago." Her voice was edged with concern. "Thought she'd be back by now. You might want to come back tomorrow. It's about to rain, and most of us are closing up for the day."
I waved and thanked her for the information, then raced off toward the restrooms, a small brick building with a door on each side, one for men and one for women. My pulse was racing with adrenaline by the time I reached the building. Had I just made a horrible mistake? I sat in my jeep waiting for the day to end, deciding there was no way Juniper could murder Violet in broad daylight with all the shoppers mingling about. What I hadn't considered was a restroom break. It was a fatal mistake, and I hoped it hadn't ended in a fatal tragedy.
I knocked urgently on the door. There was no answer. I knocked again and grabbed the doorknob. It was locked. I went to knock a third time and the door swung open. The angry woman with the scowling brow and tight lips was definitely not Violet.
A Crafty Killing Page 15
