After the meeting, everyone but Andy filed out of Tealicious. He put his arms around her and pulled her close. “Are we still on for tonight?” he asked against her hair.
“You bet.” She raised her head for a kiss.
“I need to get back to Angelo’s. Erikka doesn’t come in until later this afternoon, and Roger is holding down the fort again.”
“It sounds like Roger is getting really good at fort holding,” Katie said.
“He is.”
“Good. Maybe now that you have a full staff you’ll be able to take more time off.”
He chuckled. “Are you angling for a vacation?”
“Maybe one of these days . . . if we can keep ourselves from over-entrepreneuring!”
“Is that even a word?”
“It is now,” she said. “Can you think of one that more adequately describes our sickness for new ventures?”
“Your sickness. You’re the one with all these irons in the fire.”
“I saw your name on that pad, too.”
“I know.” He kissed her again. “Still . . . a vacation does sound good, doesn’t it? A beach somewhere . . . tropical breeze . . . no clock-watching.”
She sighed. “It sounds wonderful.” Still, Katie wondered if either of them would ever take enough time off work to enjoy such a trip together.
After Andy left, Katie returned to her upstairs office to check her email before uploading photographs of the display case and the day’s specials on Tealicious’s website. Then she went downstairs to stroll around the dining room. She was pleased to see Fiona and Phil Lancaster had arrived for lunch.
“Hello! I’m so glad you could make it.”
“We wouldn’t have missed it,” said Fiona, dressed casually today in a bronze maxi dress and turquoise jewelry. “We’re leaving Sassy Sally’s tomorrow, but we hope to get by Artisans Alley before we go.”
“We’d planned on getting by there today, but it wasn’t opened,” Phil added.
“Yes, we’re closed on Mondays but will be open at ten tomorrow morning,” Katie said.
“Good.” Fiona smiled. “I’m looking forward to browsing around.”
“I’ll try to make it—I’d like to see what Hugh McKinney is crafting out of leather.” Phil barked out a laugh. “He’s lucky he’s not making license plates.”
Fiona scoffed. “Oh, Phil. I don’t think they even do sthat in prisons anymore . . . do they?”
Katie shrugged, having no idea where or how license plates were made. “I need to run a quick errand, but I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Just ask for me at the cash desk, and I’ll come out and give you the grand tour.”
Why on earth would Phil Lancaster believe Hugh McKinney was lucky not to be in prison? Katie felt it was more imperative than ever to discover exactly who the man was who’d so recently leased vendor space from her. After all, if he’d been up to something shady before and was now continuing his activities from Artisans Alley, couldn’t Katie—and perhaps even the vendors—get in trouble as well?
* * *
—
Katie hadn’t realized it, but it seemed like after a day off, Mondays were the post office’s busiest workday. After standing in line for several minutes, she asked the clerk if she could speak with a manager.
The clerk looked wary. “May I tell him what it’s about?”
“It’s about a former employee,” Katie said.
The clerk called for the manager and then instructed Katie to stand to the side so she could wait on the next person in line. “He’ll be with you in a moment.”
The manager was a tall, imposingly built man with a shaved head. He opened a locked door and then lifted his hand and motioned Katie toward him with two meaty fingers.
Katie swallowed nervously and then followed him through the door and down the hall to his office. He allowed her to go inside first, and then he came in behind her and closed the door.
She didn’t know why she found the man intimidating. But there was something about—she read his nametag—B. Martin that made one feel that he had a short fuse.
“How may I help you?” he asked brusquely.
“My name is Katie Bonner, and I run Artisans Alley, the converted apple—”
B. Martin rotated his wrist in a wind-it-up gesture.
“Uh, I need to ask you about a former employee—Hugh McKinney,” she blurted.
“What about him?”
“He’s a vendor at Artisans Alley. I was busy with another project and didn’t personally vet the man’s application like I usually do, and it’s come to my attention that Mr. McKinney might’ve been forced to leave his employ at the post office.”
“I can only confirm to you that Mr. Hugh McKinney was indeed an employee of the United States Postal Service. Anything else in Mr. McKinney’s personnel record is strictly confidential and cannot be divulged barring a court order.”
“But . . . if you were me . . . would you feel comfortable having this man in your business?”
“All information about postal employees past or present is confidential.”
It was obvious that Katie had wasted his time. She stood. “Thank you for your time.”
B. Martin nodded, his expression devoid of emotion, his eyes as dark and forbidding as a shark’s. “See yourself out.”
* * *
—
Dinnertime arrived, and Andy appeared in front of Katie’s office door. “Let’s go!” he said and escorted her to his truck. He drove to the new Mexican restaurant that had just opened near the marina. Over a dinner of beef fajitas for him and a chicken taco for her, she told him about the post office incident.
“The manager looked more like a prison warden than the manager of a post office,” Katie said. “It wasn’t as if I was asking him to give out confidential information. I just wanted to know if he thought Mr. McKinney was okay to have as a vendor at Artisans Alley.”
Andy rolled his eyes. “You were so asking him to give out confidential information. You wanted to know if Hugh McKinney was indeed forced to take early retirement, and if so, how it would affect his working at Artisans Alley.”
“Okay, fine. But wouldn’t you be concerned if you were me?”
“Not really. I trust my instincts. For instance, I seriously doubt there’s a single teacher or former employer who would give Roger a glowing recommendation, but he’s one of the best employees I have. Just because the PO manager wasn’t singing Hugh McKinney’s praises doesn’t mean the man wasn’t an excellent employee. Maybe the early retirement—if he was, in fact, forced into it—was due to his age.”
“Maybe,” Katie said. “But he’s the only person I haven’t vetted myself since I took over Artisans Alley.”
“And Vance thought he was fine. Are you allowing the gossip of a man who was too hungover to attend the luncheon yesterday to cast a shadow over both Vance’s judgment and your new vendor?”
Katie frowned. “You’re right. But I do want to get to know the man and see what my instincts tell me.”
“Fair enough.”
Katie’s gaze lifted as a couple strolled behind the hostess and into the dining room. “Speak of the devil,” she murmured.
“What?”
Katie smiled as Sue Sweeney and her date, Hugh McKinney, passed their table. “Hi, Sue. Fancy seeing you here.”
Sue paused. “It seems everyone on the Square is trying out the new restaurant, I guess,” she said and giggled. “Hugh, I believe you know Katie.”
Katie said hello and introduced Hugh to Andy.
Cordialities dispensed with, Hugh and Sue gave a wave before the couple was shown to their table.
Andy took Katie’s hand and leaned in close. “That man is a stone-cold killer if I’ve ever seen one,” he deadpanned. Katie blinked and then, unable to keep a straight f
ace any longer, Andy burst out laughing.
Katie threw her napkin at him. “Ha, ha.” But she wasn’t feeling jovial. Her gaze drifted to the table where Sue and Hugh sat. Why did it feel so weird to see the two of them together?
Thirteen
First thing Tuesday morning, Sue stopped by Katie’s office at Artisans Alley. Once again, she had taken more care with her appearance than she typically did, and she looked pretty in her wine-colored peasant blouse and denim skirt. Katie told her so.
“Thank you,” Sue said, taking a seat on the chair by Katie’s desk. “I stopped by to say hello to Hugh and to thank him again for last night before I head over to the shop.”
“I take that to mean that your date went well.”
Sue giggled. “Oh, Katie, it did. I know he’s a bit older than I am, but what’s that old saying? I’d rather be an old man’s darling than a young man’s welcome mat?”
“That’s a new one to me.” Katie shrugged. “But I’m glad you and Hugh hit it off.”
“We did. He’s so kind and attentive.” She flattened her palm to her chest. “He asked me so many questions—how long I’ve lived in this area, where I grew up, what led to my love of candy-making . . . He even asked if I’m one of the merchants buying Harper Jones’s building.”
“Really?” Katie decided there was a fine line between being interested and being far too nosy on a first date. “Why did he ask you about that?”
“Out of concern, I guess. When I confirmed that I am going in on the building, Hugh told me to be careful. He said that nasty business with the Fentons might not be over yet.”
“I wonder what he meant by that.” Did Hugh McKinney know something about Ken Fenton and, possibly, his death?
“I imagine he heard something about how the building was going to be bought by Paul Fenton before his brother was killed there. I mentioned to Hugh that my niece had dated Paul and that Paul was a horrible piece of work.” She smiled. “It’s nice to have someone worry about me.”
Katie nodded. “It is.”
She wasn’t satisfied with Sue’s answer, though. Still thinking Hugh knew more than he was saying, she decided to speak with Hugh herself and determine just what he knew about the Fentons’ “nasty business” that might not be over.
Katie’s phone rang. She looked down at the screen and saw that it was an in-house call.
“Excuse me, Sue, I need to answer this.”
“Of course! I need to get to work anyway.” She stood. “Can’t sit around mooning over a man all day, can I?” She waggled her fingers at Katie as she went out the door.
Katie waved back as she answered her phone.
“There’s a couple here to see you,” Rose said.
“The Lancasters. Tell them I’ll be right there.” She ended the call and hurried out to the cash desks, where Fiona and Phil Lancaster were waiting.
Fiona looked lovely and sophisticated, wearing light-blue seersucker pants, a white eyelet blouse, and navy pumps. A sapphire-and-diamond necklace-and-earring set capped the outfit. In contrast, Phil looked rumpled in his wrinkled khaki slacks and a red polo shirt. Katie was beginning to think that Phil was always in a bit of disarray and that he’d look downright disreputable if it weren’t for Fiona.
“I’m so glad you made it,” Katie said, as Fiona gave her a warm hug.
“We wouldn’t have missed it,” Fiona said. “I can hardly wait to discover all the treasures you have here.”
Katie took them on the promised tour. Fiona appeared to be delighted by everything, especially Liz Meier’s stained glass. She bought a lovely suncatcher to hang in her dining room window.
Phil, on the other hand, didn’t care for anything except for Vance’s furniture. He even took Vance’s card so he could commission Vance to make the Lancasters’ granddaughter a rocking horse for Christmas.
As Katie and the Lancasters strolled by Hugh McKinney’s booth, Phil stopped and rocked back on his heels. Hugh sat on a cobbler’s bench, tooling yet another piece of leather.
“McKinney, I’m glad to see you landed on your feet.” Phil squinted at the assortment of goods Hugh had for sale. “Some of these look pretty good.”
“They all look good,” Hugh said. “You old codger.” His face broke into a smile. “What’re you doing in these parts?”
“Fiona likes to visit from time to time. She says it’s quaint.” He shrugged. “So, how come you set up a leather goods shop?”
“I had to do something after retiring from the post office.”
“Retired, eh?” Phil chuckled. “I heard there was a little more to it than that.”
“Well, they were downsizing, and I was getting close to retirement age,” Hugh said. “They offered me a nice severance package if I’d go ahead and leave.”
“Huh. I’ve been kicked out of a few places before, but nobody has ever paid me to leave,” Phil said, and he and Hugh shared a laugh.
“What a small world,” Fiona mumbled. “Excuse me, dear. I’ll be right back.”
As Fiona hurried over to speak with the older woman she’d recognized, Katie hung back to watch Phil continue to verbally spar with Hugh. After a moment, Phil looked around, realized Fiona was missing, and asked Katie where she’d gone. Katie nodded in the direction of Fiona and her friend, and Phil went to join them.
“So, how do you know Mr. Lancaster?” Katie asked Hugh.
“We were privates together at Fort Gordon.” Hugh grinned. “Phil and I were always trying to outdo each other.”
Katie nodded, then spoke again. “I apologize for changing the subject, but I spoke with Sue Sweeney this morning.” Katie watched Hugh’s face to see his reaction, but there was none. “She mentioned that you cautioned her about buying Harper Jones’s building.”
The corners of his mouth turned down. “Just making an observation, that’s all.”
“Do you think Mr. Jones was involved in whatever led to Ken Fenton’s death?”
“I couldn’t say. All I know is that Ken was involved in some nasty business and that his brother was up to his neck in it, too. Either way, If I were you, I believe I’d let everyone know that Paul Fenton is in no way still affiliated with the building.”
“Why do you think Paul was involved in whatever trouble Ken was in?” Katie asked.
“Because you never saw one when the other wasn’t far behind.”
Before he could say anything more, Phil and Fiona returned.
“Ladies, we’d better continue this tour,” Phil said. “We need to get on the road before too much longer.”
“I know, I know,” Fiona said, rolling her eyes at Katie. “Always so impatient.”
They said their good-byes to Hugh and continued walking until they’d reached Chad’s Pad.
“I saved this one for last,” Katie said. “There’s nothing for sale here, but it’s where my late husband’s artwork is showcased.”
“Oh, Katie!” Fiona enveloped her in another hug and then went to explore each painting in the cramped room.
“These are breathtaking.” Fiona held a painting of a magnolia blossom at arm’s length. “It’s so lifelike you almost feel as if you could lean in and smell it. Don’t you, Phil?”
When she got no response from Phil, she turned and looked around the room. No Phil.
“Where’d he go?” Fiona asked Katie.
“I haven’t a clue. I didn’t even notice him leave.”
“Neither did I.” Fiona chuckled. “I suppose we’d better try and find him.”
Katie nodded and closed and locked the door once more.
“You must miss your husband so much. How long has it been since you lost him?”
“A little over two years.”
Fiona shook her head sadly, and Katie hoped she wouldn’t ask for more details. She didn’t want to discuss her private life
with a woman she’d only just met. Fortunately, they quickly found Phil, and their conversation was abruptly halted. Unfortunately, he was in what appeared to be a heated argument with Hugh McKinney.
“. . . be sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong,” Hugh was saying.
“I’ll do whatever I damn well please, and—”
Fiona hurried forward to place a hand on Phil’s arm. “Darling, you’re making a scene.”
“Why should I care?” Phil growled.
“She’s right,” Hugh said. “This isn’t the time or the place.”
“Well, you just name the time and the place, and I’ll be there.”
Fiona gave her husband’s arm a tug as she laughed a little too loudly. “You fellows and your baseball rivalries! Phil, let’s go.”
Phil harrumphed, but this time he conceded to his wife’s wishes and the two began walking toward the stairs that led to the cash desks on the floor below.
“I simply love this stained-glass ornament,” Fiona said as Katie fell into step beside them. “I’m sure I could’ve bought a hundred other things, but Phil would have grouched at me all the way home.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Next time I’m in town, we’ll have lunch, and then I’ll come back and shop alone.”
Katie merely smiled, wondering what Phil and Hugh had really been arguing about. She didn’t buy the baseball rivalry bit for a minute.
* * *
—
Katie waved good-bye to the Lancasters and turned to speak with Rose. As she did, she stepped into Ray Davenport’s path.
“Oops! Sorry, Ray.” She smiled. “I’d better watch where I’m going.”
“Yes, you had.”
She was taken aback by his tone but decided to ignore it. “Were you coming to talk to me?”
“Nope. I’m on my way upstairs to see Vance.”
A realization came to her. “Ah . . .” She looked around. “Who’s with you?”
“Excuse me?” he asked.
“Which of your daughters is with you—Sasha or Sadie?”
“Neither.”
Murder Ink Page 12
