by Dixie Davis
Chief Branson nodded slowly, as if that one little fact made everything fall into place. One little fact did click into place in Lori’s mind: the cigarette butts found at the crime scene.
Then they definitely suspected Vera.
“Thank you again.” The chief’s smile looked more like a simper, but finally, he turned to leave again. Mitch and Ray stepped to the side, but from where Lori stood, she could see them give Chief Branson the eye all the way out of the house. Eddie followed, passing under their scrutiny as well.
For a moment, once the door closed, the four of them stayed still in the silence, the aftermath.
“Who’s ready for some loaded baked potato soup?” Mitch asked. His usual enthusiasm for food seemed a bit . . . tempered.
“I appreciate you all standing up for me,” Vera murmured. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Of course we did,” Ray said. “I’m the only one of us here that he hasn’t accused of murder. And that’s probably only a matter of time.”
Vera looked up, her eyes wide in surprise — and they widened more when she saw that Ray wasn’t joking. Mitch and Lori confirmed his statement with small nods.
“I suppose we notorious criminals need to stick together,” Vera said, almost managing a smile. “Maintain that honor among thieves.”
Lori laughed. “Let me go get some dishes.”
She returned from the kitchen with four bowls. “I brought you one, Ray, but I imagine you’ll want yours to go.”
He waved a hand. “It’s the off-season. I can put up an ‘Out to Lunch’ sign for a little while. Katie will hold down the fort.”
Lori wasn’t sure if he was joking about his wife, who was mostly bedridden.
Mitch poured the soup from the Styrofoam container into the bowls, and Lori took a moment to breathe in the warm, peppery steam. Stirring the bowl, she could see the chunks of tender potato mixed with bacon, chives and more, all coated in the creamy soup.
Lori took a bite. Notes of sharp cheddar and something tangy complemented the smooth base.
It might be a heart attack in a bowl, but it was worth it, at least for the distraction.
Ray and Mitch chatted quietly, making just enough sound that the silence wasn’t oppressive, without disturbing Vera. Lori was too busy tasting — and thinking.
If Vera was Chief Branson’s main suspect, then maybe Lori needed to do some investigating herself.
After their late lunch, Ray ambled back across the street to Dusky Card & Gift. Lori had been looking forward to showing Howard and Vera the shop full of souvenirs and curiosities in more detail.
Just the thought made Lori’s heart ache all over again. She sat with Vera in what she hoped was at least companionable silence, but Lori was too busy thinking through the situation to give her friend the distraction she deserved.
An idea began tickling at the back of Lori’s mind, just forming. Vera had a lot of new, harsh realities to grapple with already, so Lori wouldn’t dare bring this idea up to her. Mitch, on the other hand, had been extra attentive and helpful today, so he might be the perfect person to recruit. Lori hopped to her feet. “Could you help with the bowls?” Lori asked, shooting Mitch a pointed look.
“Of course.” He stood and grabbed the two nearest bowls as well as the empty Styrofoam container which still held her ladle, then followed Lori into the kitchen.
As soon as the sink was on to cover their conversation, Lori turned to Mitch. “We can’t let the chief think Vera did this,” she said in a low murmur, rinsing a bowl.
Mitch nodded and handed her another bowl. “I’m guessing you’ve got a plan?”
Not exactly, but one would come to her. She needed to talk to the people who were likelier to harm Howard — Karl, Clint and Tom. All of them were, probably, a good forty-five minutes away at InnCon.
The idea of going back to InnCon today sounded pretty terrible, but if it might help Vera and help catch the person who killed Howard, she was willing to try.
She continued to plot through rinsing the other two bowls and the ladle and loading them all in the dishwasher. Still not sure on the plan, and it felt like she’d left Vera alone too long already.
Lori led Mitch back into the parlor. “Can I get you anything, Vera?” she asked.
“No.” Vera sighed. “You can’t. Wish you could.”
Lori exchanged a grim glance with Mitch.
“Did you tell me one of your bathroom light fixtures is cracked?” Mitch asked.
Lori did a double-take. She had, in fact, told him that, three days ago. She’d assumed he’d forgotten. “Yes, in the Carolina Room.” She turned back to Vera. “Would you be all right for a few minutes here while we go to check it out?”
Vera was focused on the middle distance, and Lori suddenly remembered the last time she’d seen her like that: this morning while they were frying up the donuts and dosants. After her argument with Howard.
Vera nodded vaguely, so Lori led Mitch upstairs to the Carolina Room. He pointed at the new décor, his lips thrust out in a look that said he was impressed. Lori glanced at the wooden silhouette of the state with the flag on it, the map of shipwrecks in Frying Pan Shoals, and the coffee table book on state symbols. Had he not been in here all season?
She pointed him toward the bathroom, and he inspected the glass cover on the overhead light. “Yep, cracked.”
“Thank you, Sherlock Holmes. If only you could solve our other mystery that easily.”
Mitch nodded. “And your plan?”
Lori laid out what she knew. “There are three people I’d put way ahead of Vera on the suspect list, and they should all be in Wilmington today, at our convention.”
Mitch grimaced. “Do you think word’s gotten out about Howard there?”
They were far enough away that Wilmington never paid attention to what happened on the other side of the river. Frankly, Wilmington had enough crime to keep their police and reporters too busy to ever bother with even a Dusky Cove blurb buried in the back of the Star-News or a thirty-second slot on WECT, and there hadn’t been time for that today anyway. So unless Vera or Peggy had called someone who was at InnCon now, that meant it was the perfect time to figure out who might be guilty — he’d be the only one at the convention who knew Howard was dead.
“I don’t like the look in your eyes.” Mitch’s voice broke into her thoughts. “It looks dangerous.”
“Just . . . thinking.”
“Exactly why I think it looks dangerous.”
Lori shook her head. “If I make it to the convention today, the only person there who should know about Howard . . .” She let Mitch fill in the blank.
And he did. “Is the one who did it. Good thinking.”
Lori allowed a small smile. “I do try sometimes.”
“I doubt it takes much effort for you. I’d hate to see what happens if you put your mind to something.”
Except that putting her mind to this plan would mean leaving Vera, likely for some time. Just driving back and forth would take at least an hour and a half. Lori frowned at the towels embroidered with an outline of the state. “I can’t leave Vera now,” she murmured. “I mean, obviously she doesn’t really want company, but she shouldn’t be alone today.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Mitch said.
“She doesn’t need a babysitter, and I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”
Mitch gave her a sad smile. “No, there’s nothing better I could do today.”
“I’m sure you’ve got clients waiting —”
“Lori,” he cut her off. “I’ve been in Vera’s shoes before. Exact same size.”
Mitch had never, not even once, directly alluded to his wife. She’d had to go to Ray to learn her name — Debra. But even with her conveniently nosy neighbor, Lori didn’t dare dredge up questions about his daughter’s death.
But the things Mitch was saying now, and the things Mitch and Ray had said a few moments ago, finally began to set in. Mitch was telli
ng her Debra was murdered. Lori had figured that much, and that Chip blamed Mitch for Debra’s death, but she’d never thought the chief had actually suspected Mitch of her murder.
Given what she’d seen of their rivalry, that seemed like a distinct possibility.
And as awful as all that must have been for Mitch, it did give him the perfect résumé and reason to spend the afternoon with Vera.
“Thank you,” Lori said, hoping her eyes showed just how much she meant it. “It really means a lot to me. And Vera.”
“We’ll see what Vera has to say about that.” He nodded at the light fixture. “I’ll order you some new glass. Vera and I can even try to hunt down some replica wallpaper.”
No matter how much Lori paid Mitch, she’d never be able to cover this kind of debt. “Thank you,” she said again.
“Anytime.”
Lori straightened the seashell-shaped soaps in the dish, and they headed back down to Vera, still sitting on the hideous floral sofa.
“Vera,” Lori said, settling next to her once again, “I want to prove you’re innocent. I need to go to talk to Clint, Tom and Karl.”
“I can’t imagine any of them going this far. This is —” Vera broke off, just shaking her head.
“I know, but they’re a lot likelier suspects than you.”
Vera’s shoulders sagged and her whole frame leaned heavily into the couch. “I didn’t hurt him,” she murmured. “Why would anyone think that?”
“I don’t know — but I’m going to prove it isn’t true.”
Vera offered a thin smile. “I appreciate the sentiment.”
That sounded like a pretty weak endorsement. Did she think defending her was a lost cause?
Well, that was because she’d never had Lori Keyes defending her before. “Don’t you worry,” Lori said.
Mitch sat in the nearest green armchair. “And if you don’t mind, I’d love to stay here and keep you company. If you’re up for it, I could use an expert eye to help me find a decent replica of the original wallpaper.”
Vera nodded. “Sure.”
“I don’t want you to be alone. Unless you want to be,” Lori rushed to add.
“No,” Vera said quickly. “Tried that already. It didn’t work well.”
Lori patted her arm. “I’ll do my best to hurry back.”
“Thank you, dear.”
Lori and Mitch exchanged a meaningful look and Lori headed out to try to prove Vera’s innocence.
The drive to InnCon felt even more quiet in contrast with yesterday’s tour with Howard’s commentary. Normally, Lori loved the idea of getting to know new people and learn new things, but right now, she would have much rather sat with Vera and stared out at the river.
They’d have to do that after she got home. Lori found a parking spot outside the Convention center and got out of her car, casting a glance at the Cape Fear flowing past, trying to draw on the reserve of peace she always found from the wide, slow-moving river.
It only worked a little bit. It probably didn’t help that she’d come here to ferret out and confront a killer.
Lori steeled herself and stepped into the convention center, then into the exhibit hall. The cavernous room full of tables and booths and people seemed . . . quiet. Subdued.
Had they heard after all? How?
Lori looked around for a familiar face, someone she could ask. Finally she found Terrence, who ran a four-room inn in the mountains, and who’d helped her with a registration problem for the convention last year.
“Is there something wrong?” Lori opted for the most general question first.
Terrence nodded slowly. “One of our members just passed away.”
This morning. Lori barely managed to hold in the helpful correction. People seldom took that as helpful, and she didn’t want to tip off the murderer.
In fact, the less it seemed like she knew, the better. “Who was it?” Lori asked.
“I don’t think you’d know him. One of our oldest members.”
She had no idea why he’d assume she didn’t know him — but Howard was practically a founding father of InnCon Carolinas. Lori nodded sympathetically. “That’s terrible.”
It was terrible — terrible for her investigation. If everyone already knew about Howard, there went the advantage she’d left her friend on the worst day of her life for.
Still, she might be able to salvage something. Lori thanked Terrence and turned back to the exhibit hall. She couldn’t barge into Clint’s prospective innkeepers classes. Maybe she’d have more luck finding him in Dusky Cove tonight — but for now, she did know exactly where to find Tom and Karl.
She spotted the colorful array of pottery first and made her way over to Carolina Clayworks’ table. Karl greeted her with the same smile, although his unconventional appearance — at a convention — didn’t shock her today. “How are you?” he asked. “Nobody tagging along to yell at me this time?”
“Obviously” was all Lori could manage. “Things seem quieter today.”
Karl’s lips pressed together until his moustache touched his beard, hiding his lips altogether. “Well, they did put quite a damper on things in the opening session.”
“Death has a tendency to do that, yes.”
Karl’s expression remained grim. He pulled something from behind his ear — a cigarette — and tapped the end on the table. “Wish they wouldn’t do that.”
Her burgeoning detective sense perked up at that. A guilty person wouldn’t want their crimes broadcast, right? “Why’s that?” Lori asked. “Are we supposed to forget him?”
“No, just the way that they did it.” He trailed off, shaking his head.
Well, she couldn’t comment on that. Lori picked up the blue mug she’d admired the day before. “How did you meet Howard?”
“I went to high school with his daughter, Peggy. Dated her into college, which he absolutely loved.” Karl grinned at his own joke.
“I’ll bet.” Peggy was in her thirties at least, from the way Vera and Howard talked about her, and Karl looked to be about the same age.
“You like that one?” Karl nodded at the mug in her hands, tucking the cigarette behind his ear again.
“Yes, it’s beautiful.”
“That design’s always been a favorite of mine, too.”
Lori tried to hide her surprise, contemplating the mug another minute. These delicate, gently curving patterns and the subtle color gradation touched something special in this biker wannabe?
She reminded herself she couldn’t judge people by their appearances — an important lesson for anyone investigating a murder. Lori replaced the mug on the table. “It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks.” Something about Karl’s smile was so modest and sincere, Lori found herself more surprised than ever.
Could this man have killed Howard just this morning?
She couldn’t be sure — but obviously he’d heard the announcement this morning, so knowing about his death didn’t mean anything. She couldn’t make an accusation based on that alone. Maybe he had an alibi. “Are you from Charleston?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“Staying at a B&B here in town for the convention, then?”
He laughed. “A potter doesn’t make enough for that,” he said. “Just the nearest hotel.”
Lori tried to force herself to smile. To her, a bed and breakfast was just her home. It wasn’t cheap by any means, though, so she could understand why someone would choose a hotel instead. Most of all, she was chagrined at her own assumption. She hadn’t meant to put him in an awkward spot.
But if Karl felt uncomfortable, he didn’t show it.
“Do you take your work with you every day?” she asked, dancing around her real question: what time did you get here? She couldn’t think of a smooth way to drop that into the conversation yet.
“No, they lock it up overnight, so I think it’s pretty safe. Unless one of the convention center workers gets any ideas.”
Lori chuckled.
There was her opportunity. “I bet you’re the first one in here, then.”
“Just about. Rolled in at eight today.”
That would barely give him time to get from Dusky Cove after Howard died — just barely. Couldn’t rule him out yet.
“Why?” Karl asked. “Thinking of renting a booth next year?”
Crud, she’d attracted his suspicions. “No, just curious.”
Karl lifted one thick eyebrow. “Curious about when the best time to steal that mug is?”
Lori laughed, but made sure to push the mug closer to Karl. Time to get away before he suspected her real intentions. “Thank you .”
Lori wandered away, or at least tried to make it look like she wasn’t headed straight for Tom’s table next. Today, Tom flashed a smile at her that was two clicks too charming. “Back again?”
“Yep, trying to be thorough about this.” Understatement of the year. But she needed to be subtle. She couldn’t go springing an interrogation on this guy. She had to be trickier than that.
She had to pretend to be interested. She returned his smile. “Can I see your rate charts again?”
“Certainly.” He handed her a brochure, flipping it open to the right chart.
Lori glanced at the chart, and then back at Tom’s green eyes. His alibi should be her first priority. “I bet you get some pretty nice perks for working with all these bed and breakfasts.”
He cocked his head as if to ask what she meant, once again chomping on his gum.
“Aren’t you staying with one of your clients here in town?”
“We actually don’t have any clients in Wilmington yet. A big reason why I’m here. I’m just a one-man operation trying to break into a big market. Kind of like owning a B&B.”
Lori nodded, trying not to roll her eyes at the obvious ploy. “I hope you’re not sleeping out of your car.”
Tom furrowed his brow. “Why would I?”
“Oh — I mean, a B&B owner is sleeping in their business.” Her attempt to explain the joke was even feebler than the joke itself.
Tom just shook his head. “I’m at a hotel a couple blocks away. Much better than my backseat.”
Lori laughed, but she sounded a little forced. She stared at the brochure again without reading it. By now the stock photos on the pages were burned into her brain permanently. How could she ask where Tom was before eight o’clock?
