When Ray left, Katie mentioned to Vance that she’d been getting complaints all morning about the heat. “Could you please adjust the thermostat so the heat pump will kick in and make it a little cooler in here?”
“I’ll see what I can do. But you know how expensive that will be? Giving in to the whims of a few menopausal women?”
Katie cringed at the remark. “It’s more than that,” she said evenly. “Rose said several of the vendors and customers have complained.”
“So, this is coming from Rose?” Vance demanded, rather unreasonably, Katie thought. The two of them had always gotten along so well.
“No. The first person who mentioned it to me this morning was another vendor. I asked Rose if anyone else had complained.”
“I’ll tell you what it is,” Vance declared. “A lot of these people are jealous of the position you’ve put me in, and they’re doing everything they can to undermine my authority.”
Katie frowned. “I hope that’s not the case, but if you’d please turn down the thermostat, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Fine.” Vance threw his hands up in the air and stalked off in a huff.
What the heck? Katie thought. She was the one who paid the bills. Why was he taking the situation so personally?
She shook her head and turned her attention to the computer. She had other, bigger dilemmas to solve.
* * *
—
After a morning filled with far too many problems, Katie was due to meet Andy for their regular lunch date at Del’s. But first, she decided to swing by Harper Jones’s vacant building to have a word with Ken Fenton.
As she walked up to the frame building, Katie was greeted by the sound of a hammer pounding wood. Gingerly, she stepped inside the building and called, “Hello!”
Katie’s great-aunt Lizzie would have said Ken Fenton was built like a fireplug, and, honestly, he was the first person for whom she thought that description was accurate. The man was short and looked as if he was tough as nails. A red bandana was tied around his head, and the intimidating expression on his stubbly face could best be described as grim.
“What can I do for you?” he asked, still clutching a hammer rather than putting it into the holster on his tool belt.
“I’m Katie Bonner, head of the Victoria Square Merchants Association. I came to apologize for Mr. Davenport’s visit this morning. I think the two of you must’ve misunderstood each other.”
Fenton straightened, looking none too friendly. “I think I made my position pretty clear.”
“Yes, sir, but I just wanted you to know that the Merchants Association doesn’t want to run your brother out of business. In fact, we want to make sure his business is successful . . . and we’re afraid he won’t get the kind of traffic he needs here on Victoria Square.”
“Why don’t you let him worry about that?”
“We just want to see him succeed,” Katie reiterated, hoping he’d notice the sincerity in her voice.
“Yeah, sure you do.” He dropped the hammer into the loop on his tool belt and picked up a circular saw. “I need to get back to work.”
“I understand, but—”
He turned on the saw to drown out her words. Immediately, his smirk changed to a look of horror. As his body began to shake, Katie looked for the power cord. Maybe if she—
Wham!
The next thing Katie knew, she was sitting against the wall on the other side of the room from Ken . . . Ken, who’d turned on the saw and then . . .
Ken!
She struggled to sit up. Where was he? Why was her body trembling so badly? She could see Ken lying on the floor. Her purse had been spilled, so she crawled toward it and rummaged through the contents until she found her phone. She’d missed two calls from Andy, but she called 911 first.
When she was assured the ambulance was on its way, she called Andy.
“Hey, where are you?”
“I’m . . . I’m at Harper Jones’s vacant building on the Square. Andy, I got shocked . . . and I think K-Ken might’ve been . . . electrocuted.”
Andy’s voice was taut. “On my way.”
Three
Katie shuddered as she eased forward on the edge of the hospital gurney. She nestled as closely into Andy’s strong arms as she could. “Hold me tighter,” she whispered.
“I’ve got you, Sunshine.” He kissed the top of her head.
“I want to go home.”
“I know. We’ll get you there. Just be patient.”
A tall male nurse wearing light blue scrubs pulled back the curtain and entered the cubicle. Andy took a step back but held Katie’s hands.
“Ms. Bonner, I’m going to hook you up to this EKG machine,” said the nurse. “We’re going to do a little cardiac monitoring. I’m also going to take a blood sample, and I’ll need you to empty your bladder into this cup for a urinalysis. Can you do that?”
Katie nodded.
“I’ll help you stand,” Andy said.
“Still trembly?” the nurse asked.
“Yeah, she has been for nearly two hours now.” Andy helped Katie to her feet.
“That’ll pass soon. Or it should.”
Katie took the cup and went into the bathroom. She returned with the urine sample, and then the nurse asked her to lie back on the gurney. He proceeded to fill two tubes with blood before attaching electrodes to her torso and hooking her up to the EKG machine. With the promise that he’d be right back, the nurse left the room.
Andy pushed a rolling stool over to the gurney, sat beside her, and took her hand. “Are you okay?”
“I hope so.” She sighed. “Ken . . . did he—?”
“I don’t know.”
Katie closed her eyes. She was still too jittery to relax, let alone sleep, and within a few minutes, she could hear shuffling noises inside her room.
“Is she asleep?” Rose asked.
Katie opened her eyes and gave her friend a wan smile. “No.”
Vance must have gotten over his pique from that morning and had accompanied Rose to the hospital. They were both standing uncomfortably close to the gurney. Katie knew it was thoughtful of her friends to come and check on her, but at the moment she didn’t want to be with anyone but Andy.
“How are you feeling?” Rose asked softly.
“Ready to go home,” Katie said. “Please . . . have a seat. You, too, Vance. You both look way too concerned, and it’s a little disconcerting.”
“Well, um . . . we were worried,” Vance said, placing a hand on Andy’s shoulder. “When we heard what happened, we got here as quickly as we could.”
Katie wondered if her stab of guilt would spike the EKG readings. “How’s Ken?”
Rose looked around the room, found a chair, and quickly moved to sit against the wall.
“He didn’t make it,” Vance said. “That’s the main reason we were so concerned about you.”
“What happened?” Katie asked. “Was it faulty wiring?”
Andy squeezed her hand. “We’ll talk about that later. Right now, you need to be calm so the hospital can get an accurate reading on your EKG.”
“Vance, we should get back to the Alley,” Rose said. “Without Katie there to run business, someone needs to hold down the fort.”
“Yeah . . . we’ll go. Katie, let us know if you need anything.”
“Oh, and I’ll look in at Tealicious to make sure Janine doesn’t need any help and that she knows what’s happened. After all, you’ve had quite a shock.” Rose laughed at her own joke. Her laughter quickly died when she realized she was the only one laughing.
“Thank you,” Katie said. “I appreciate your coming by.”
Vance and Rose retreated, and Katie closed her eyes as a frown settled across her features. “I hope I didn’t appear rude, but they did kinda add to
my stress. There are so many things I need to take care of, both at Artisans Alley and at Tealicious.”
“All of it can wait. Provided they don’t admit you to the hospital, I’m planning on taking care of you the rest of the day and night.”
Katie shook her head. “You have a business to run, too.”
“Already taken care of. I called Erikka on the way here, and she’s handling Angelo’s for the night.”
Erikka. Wonderful, beautiful Erikka . . . She worked for Andy because Katie had regretfully suggested he hire her as his assistant manager. And now she’d become invaluable to him.
Of course, Katie had also suggested Erikka apply for a part-time secretarial position with the school system to get her away from Andy, but that had only served to make Andy angry with Katie . . . especially after Erikka got the job. But, then, the woman assured Andy that she’d never leave him.
Swell.
A woman wearing scrubs and a white lab coat came into the room. “Hi, Ms. Bonner, I’m Dr. Casey. I’ve looked at your bloodwork, urinalysis, and EKG, and I think you’re going to be just fine. You’re incredibly lucky.” She walked over, turned off the monitor, and took the sensors off Katie’s body. “I’m going to let you go home, but if you feel any pain in your extremities, feel anxiety, suffer from memory loss, insomnia, or chest pain, I want you to return to the emergency department as soon as possible.”
Katie’s head spun as she sat up too quickly. “I will.”
“She will,” Andy said simultaneously.
Dr. Casey smiled. “I’ll initiate the paperwork for your release.”
“Thank you,” Katie said, looked at the clock on the wall, and then turned to Andy. “Can we get something to eat on the way home? I’m starving.”
He smiled and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Anything you want, love.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and Katie felt loved and secure. And then her thoughts returned to the memory of Ken Fenton lying dead on the sawdust-covered floor, spoiling her sense of relief.
* * *
—
After a leisurely late lunch in a much-too-expensive restaurant not far from the hospital, Andy drove them back to McKinlay Mill and Victoria Square. He’d entered the lot via the east entrance and they drove slowly past the now-shuttered building where Ken Fenton had met his maker. Yellow crime tape cordoned off the front of the building, the sight of it causing Katie to shudder.
Andy pulled his white Ford truck into a parking space in front of Angelo’s Pizzeria, now bathed in shadows, and parked in his designated space. She leaned forward and squinted. “Who’s that?”
“Who’s what?”
“There’s someone standing by the stairs to my apartment. I think it’s Ray.”
Andy wrenched open the door of the truck. “Davenport! What are you doing here?”
“I was going to tape a note to the door,” Ray called, as he walked toward them. He squinted into the cab of the truck. “How are you, Katie?”
“I’m—”
“Who dotted your eye for you, Davenport?” Andy said and snickered.
“I’m fine,” Katie said, with a sharp glance at Andy.
“That’s good,” Ray said. “I . . . everyone . . . has been worried about you.”
“Thanks.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Andy said, his tone sharper than necessary. “Who gave you the shiner?”
“Ken.” Ray shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at the pavement.
“Ken? As in, Ken Fenton? The recently deceased Ken Fenton?”
Ray brought his gaze back up to glare at Andy. “Yes, that Ken Fenton.”
Andy scoffed. “You didn’t tamper with that saw, did you?”
“I didn’t, as I’ve been explaining to Detective Schuler for the past few hours.”
Katie gasped. “The sheriff’s office questioned you? Why?”
“Schuler found it a strange coincidence that Ken died so soon after he and I argued, especially since Ken’s death has been deemed suspicious.”
“Suspicious,” Katie repeated, “but not a homicide?”
“Not as of yet,” Ray said.
Katie got out of the truck and walked around to the side where Andy and Ray stood.
Andy put his arm around her, more possessive than protective. “Steady.”
“I’m all right. Ray, did Detective Schuler give you any indication as to why Ken’s death seemed suspicious?”
“No. He’s playing his cards close to his vest. If he winds up charging me with anything, he wants to make it stick.”
“Oh, come on! That’s ridiculous!”
Ray shook his head. “Not to him, it’s not.”
“We’ll see you later,” Andy said dismissively, and led Katie to the stairs.
She didn’t like feeling like a pull-toy in the teeth of a couple of pit bulls.
Andy insisted on steadying Katie as they walked up the stairs to her apartment. She unlocked the door and her two cats—Mason, a noble-looking black-and-white cat, and Della, a timid tabby—came mewing to wind around her and Andy’s legs.
Katie loved the little one-bedroom apartment. Sure, it was tiny, and it could get noisy during peak hours when Angelo’s was pumping out scores of pies, but it was cozy, a stone’s throw away from Artisans Alley, and it had everything she needed.
“I’ll feed you two in just a minute,” Andy told the cats. “Let’s get Katie settled on the sofa first.”
“I’m not an invalid, Andy. I’m perfectly fine.”
“I know. But taking care of you makes me feel manly, so humor me . . . please?”
She laughed. “All right. I’ll allow you to get us some wine and maybe some popcorn, but I’m feeding the cats.”
“Great. I’ll even let you pick the movie tonight.”
“Ooh . . . this is big.” It was, after all, Andy’s night to choose. “Let me think of the mushiest, gooiest, sappiest—”
He swept her into a bear hug. “You know what’s sappy? That killer clown movie. I’ve heard it’s really romantic.”
“No, it is not!” She was laughing when the doorbell rang.
“Hope it’s not old Slugger Davenport again,” Andy griped. “I’m ready for some alone time with you.”
“Me, too. Whoever it is, get rid of them.”
“My pleasure.” Andy went to the door as Katie weaved through the maze of cat legs to the kitchen.
When he spoke again, Andy’s voice was grave. “Katie, Detective Schuler is here.”
She stifled a groan and emptied the can of cat food in the bowls, setting them on the floor as Andy led Schuler through to the living room. She returned to the room and sank onto the sofa. “Hi, Detective.”
Andy sat down beside her, and Detective Schuler lowered his lanky frame onto the seat near the window.
“How are you feeling?” Schuler asked, taking a notebook and pen from his suit pocket. “I hear you suffered quite a jolt when Ken Fenton turned on that saw.”
“Not like he did,” Katie said, slipping her hand in Andy’s.
“Thank goodness for that. But you got a clean bill of health from the hospital?”
“I did.”
“Do you feel like answering a few questions?”
Not particularly. “Sure.”
Schuler flipped open his notebook. “I understand you were the last person to see Ken Fenton alive. Is that correct?”
“I don’t know . . . I guess so. I was there when . . . when the accident occurred.”
The detective scribbled something in his notebook. “Tell me exactly what happened, please.”
Katie squeezed Andy’s hand.
Andy leveled his gaze at the detective. “If you’re not feeling up to this, I’m sure Detective Schuler can speak with you tomorrow.”
<
br /> “I’d prefer to get it over with,” Katie said. She took a deep breath. “This morning, Ray Davenport stopped by Artisans Alley to tell me that, as requested by the Victoria Square Merchants Association, he went by to speak with the building owner but found Mr. Fenton there instead.”
“What was the subject of the discussion?”
“The possibility of selling the building to the Association.”
“Go on,” Schuler encouraged her.
“It seems Mr. Fenton wasn’t receptive to the idea and they had words. I thought it might be a good idea if I—as head of the Association—tried to smooth things over with Mr. Fenton.”
“And how did that go?” Schuler asked.
“Mr. Fenton was angry because he felt we had treated his brother unfairly. I tried to explain our position, but Mr. Fenton didn’t want to talk to me. To stress his unwillingness to have a talk about it, he picked up his circular saw, turned it on, and . . . and that’s when it happened.”
“When Mr. Fenton was electrocuted?”
“Yes, Detective Schuler, when the man was electrocuted.”
Scribble, scribble, scribble.
“You maintain that at that time the current arced off Mr. Fenton and hit you. Is that correct?”
“I don’t know exactly what happened,” Katie said. “All I know is that I saw a huge spark and was thrown backward.”
“All right. And what do you know about Ray Davenport’s altercation with the deceased?”
“Only what Ray told me—that he asked if Mr. Jones would consider selling the building to the Merchants Association, and Mr. Fenton punched him.”
Scribble, scribble.
“Do you know whether or not Mr. Davenport has any prior history with the deceased?” Schuler asked.
“I don’t think they’d ever met before today.”
“Do you have actual knowledge of this alleged fact, or did Mr. Davenport give you this information?”
Katie blew out a breath. “It’s what Ray told me. Could we please finish this up? I’ve had a rough day, and I’m tired.”
“Sure. I think I have what I need,” Schuler said. “But don’t go anywhere without letting my office know. You might be called as a material witness in a homicide investigation.” He got up and sauntered out of the room.
Murder Ink Page 3
