Murder Ink

by Lorraine Bartlett

“You got him into it,” Sasha muttered.

  “No, I didn’t. He volunteered to go speak with Mr. Jones on behalf of the Merchants Association because he was acquainted with the man. None of us knew anything about Ken Fenton at that time. We didn’t know he’d be there, that he had an explosive temper, that he’d slug your dad, or—”

  “Or that he’d turn up dead,” Sadie said flatly.

  “What I do know,” Katie said, “is that your father did not kill that man.”

  Sophie placed her spoon on the table. “But how do we prove that?”

  “I have no clue.” She looked around the table, hoping one of the girls had an idea. She was completely out of them.

  “We could make a murder board like they do on some of those TV crime shows.” Sasha lowered her head as she made the suggestion, certain that her idea would be shot down.

  “That’s an excellent idea,” Katie said. “We need poster board and sticky notes . . . oh, and pens with different colors of ink.”

  The three girls pushed back their chairs and hurried off to get the necessary supplies.

  They had a lot of brainstorming to do.

  * * *

  —

  Two hours later, what was left of the ice cream had turned into a soupy mess in the center of the kitchen table. Katie noticed it and tossed it in the garbage. Then she got a sponge off the sink and cleaned the sticky goo that had seeped out of the carton. The melted ice cream served as the perfect metaphor for Katie. What had started out refreshing had now turned to trash.

  When the girls had trudged off to their respective rooms minutes before, Katie still had no idea how to prove Ray’s innocence. Now, standing in the middle of the kitchen with her hands on her hips, she took another look at their “murder board.”

  In the center was a circle with Ken Fenton’s name inside it. Lines had been drawn from that circle to various squares—the suspects. Ray’s square contained the words: Heated argument leading to an assault on Dad.

  Paul Fenton had a square, and inside his was written, How well did the brothers really get along?

  To be fair, they had listed other suspects that Detective Schuler had bantered about when talking with Katie. Vance Ingram had a square because he knew a lot about electricity. Hugh McKinney had a square because he seemed to know the Fentons and electricity. Katie hadn’t told the girls that Phil Lancaster had warned her about Hugh.

  Sadie had, at one point, put a square bearing Katie’s name on the board.

  “I’m a suspect?” Katie asked her.

  She’d shrugged. “On television, they always say that everyone is a suspect.”

  Katie had declined to point out that “everyone” apparently didn’t extend to the Davenport daughters, but the murder board work had still deteriorated from that point on. The girls got snippy with Katie and with one another, and Katie had finally said she was tired.

  “We all need to look fresh for your dad’s arraignment tomorrow morning,” she told them.

  Now Katie finished tidying the kitchen, but she left the murder board on display for the time being. Maybe something helpful would come to her or to one of Ray’s daughters if each of them were to study it on her own at some point.

  She went into the living room and found that someone had placed a blanket on the sofa for her. A blanket, but no pillow. But that, at least, was something.

  * * *

  —

  Katie hadn’t slept particularly well on the Davenports’ sofa, but at least she hadn’t had any more ridiculous dreams. After that dream kiss, how was she supposed to look either Ray or Andy in the eye today?

  She folded the blanket and placed it over the back of the sofa before going to take a quick bath. She wanted to be ready when the girls got up.

  After dressing in the black slacks and lavender silk blouse she’d brought with her and applying some makeup so that, hopefully, she wouldn’t look as if she’d tossed and turned on a lumpy sofa all night long, she went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. She was wondering whether or not she should make the girls some breakfast when she heard an alarm go off.

  The alarm was quickly silenced, and after a few minutes, Sophie shuffled into the room wearing her robe and slippers.

  “Good morning,” Katie said.

  Sophie didn’t return the greeting. “How’d you sleep on the couch?”

  “Fine. Did you sleep well?”

  “No. I thought about my dad all night long.” Tears welled in her blue eyes, and Katie got up and moved toward her.

  Sophie moved away from Katie. “I’m all right.”

  “I understand that as the oldest, you feel you have to be strong for your sisters,” Katie said. “But I’m here. You can lean on me.”

  Sophie studied Katie for just a second, and then she turned away. “I need to go wake up Sadie and Sasha.”

  “Would you like me to make breakfast?”

  “No, thanks. I doubt any of us will feel like eating,” she said and shuffled out of the room.

  She was right. Katie had no appetite and wondered how long it would be before this nightmare was over.

  * * *

  —

  Katie, Sophie, Sasha, and Sadie sat in the courtroom with its muted blue walls and wooden accents, awaiting Ray’s appearance. His was the third arraignment called. When the bailiff brought him into the courtroom, Ray looked drawn and pale. Katie’s heart clutched at the sight of him. He kept his gaze trained straight ahead and didn’t look toward the gallery.

  Did he not expect the girls to be there? Was he ashamed to have them see him looking so disheveled and unshaven to hear the charges read against him? Maybe he couldn’t bear the terrified expressions on their faces.

  Before she could further consider Ray’s reasons for not seeking out his family, the judge began to read the charges leveled against Ray.

  Katie wanted to squeeze Sophie’s free hand—Sadie had the other one—but she knew Sophie would rebuff her attempt to comfort her . . . and herself . . . so she kept her hands clutched tightly in her lap. She could have wept with relief when Seth Landers eased into the seat beside her and placed a hand on her forearm.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He gave her a crooked smile and winked.

  “How do you plead?” the judge asked.

  Bill Parsons spoke for Ray. “The defendant pleads not guilty, your honor.”

  Then came the subject of bail. The prosecution asked the judge to deny bail, but Parsons laid out all the reasons that Ray was not a flight risk. After asking for Ray’s passport to be held by the court until after his trial, the judge set bail. Katie thought it was an exorbitant amount, but Seth said that it wasn’t that much considering he’d been accused of murder.

  And it appeared that despite the fact that Parsons wasn’t the most expensive criminal attorney in the county, he’d taken care of everything. Before long, Ray was free to go.

  But how long would he stay free?

  Twenty-One

  The Davenport girls took the lead with Katie and Ray following a few steps behind. As they approached the parking lot, Sophie turned. “Thanks for everything,” she said flatly, directing her comment at Katie. “We’re good now.”

  “You’re good?” Katie asked. “You mean you have a way home that doesn’t include me?”

  Ray gave a mirthless chuckle. “Yeah, kiddo, the cops escort you to the joint, but they don’t give you a ride back to your house.”

  “Oh . . . well . . . I guess you can drive us home, then.” Sophie turned and trudged toward the car.

  “Thank you so much,” Katie muttered.

  “No, thank you,” Ray told her, his voice subdued.

  She let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re welcome. Now get in the car.”

  On the drive back to McKinlay Mill, Katie told Ray that Vance i
nformed her about the break-in at Wood U, while the girls looked anywhere but the front of the vehicle and fumed in silence.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Katie asked and glanced askance.

  Ray shrugged. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “Didn’t want to worry me? Hey, I’m president of the Victoria Square Merchants Association. I need to know when one of our businesses has been broken into or vandalized so I can pass a warning along to the other merchants.”

  “It wasn’t a random thing,” Ray said. “I was targeted. I thought that was pretty obvious from the arrest.”

  “I know . . . but we didn’t know that before, and you still kept the information to yourself.”

  “Woman, if you’re going to badger me, could you at least wait until after I’ve had a shower and a decent cup of coffee?”

  “Oh, yeah? And why’s that?” she challenged.

  Ray seemed to shrink into his seat and turned his attention out the passenger-side window.

  The rest of the drive was spent in an uncomfortable silence. When they arrived at Ray’s house, the girls got out of Katie’s car as if it were on fire.

  Ray turned to Katie. “I’m sorry about the level of animosity being aimed at you. But could you come in for a few minutes? There are a few things I’d like to discuss with you.”

  “I dunno, Ray.”

  “Oh, come on. My girls don’t bite.”

  “I’m not so sure.” Still, Ray and Katie got out of the car and went inside. The girls were waiting in the living room, standing with their arms crossed, looking defiant.

  “Go on and get cleaned up,” Katie said to Ray. “The girls and I can get lunch started.”

  “That’s not necessary.” Sophie angled her body between Katie and her father. “I know what Dad likes, and I’ll make lunch. We don’t need you here. You can go on to work . . . or however you kill time during the day.”

  “Young lady, that’s—”

  “It’s okay, Ray,” Katie said, holding up a hand to stave off further protests. “Sophie’s right—I have a lot to accomplish today.”

  “Still, I—”

  Katie raised a finger to silence him. “You need to be with your daughters now. We can talk later.”

  He nodded. “Thank you . . . for everything.”

  “That’s what friends are for.” She managed a half-hearted smile and left the house.

  As she got into her car to leave, she hoped Ray wouldn’t be too hard on the girls . . . although their bratty attitude had grated on her last nerve for the past twenty-four hours. She was more than ready for some peace and quiet . . . and friendly faces.

  Her first stop was Tealicious. She was hungry, besides the fact that she hadn’t checked in at the tea shop in two days.

  Upon her arrival, Brad came out to greet her with open arms and embraced her warmly. “Katie!”

  This is more like it. So, there, Davenport girls.

  “I’m happy you have such confidence in me, but I’ve missed seeing you,” he said.

  “Thanks, Brad. Something came up and I had to help out a friend for a little while. But, I’m back . . . and I’m starving.”

  “Ah, well, good. You’re in for a treat. I have a wonderful salmon salad served on pumpernickel I’d like for you to try. And also, I’ve got an egg and watercress served on sourdough.”

  “Great. Can I try both?” She peered into the display case to her right and pointed toward a platter of cookies. “What are those? I haven’t seen those before.”

  “They’re brown sugar cashew cookies.”

  “Yum. I’ll have two of those, please.”

  “Coming right up.” Brad motioned for one of his new hires—Amy, by her nametag—told her what to give Katie, and excused himself. “Be back in a second. I need to speak with this gentleman.”

  Katie glanced over her shoulder to see Paul Fenton standing by the front door, and her already high-anxiety level shot up about a hundred points. What on earth is he doing here? Fenton certainly didn’t strike Katie as the dainty tea sandwich type.

  Amy told Katie that if she’d like to be seated, she’d bring her plate and a pot of tea. Katie thanked her and sat down at a table near the front of the house that overlooked the parking lot.

  As Katie watched, Brad and Paul walked outside to have—what appeared to be by what she could make out through the window—a pretty intense discussion.

  What business could Brad possibly have with Paul Fenton . . . a man Katie considered a very real threat? But, then, what did Katie really know about Brad? She’d hired him on his superior credentials and Nick’s recommendation. Still, he was admittedly an alcoholic and possibly even a drug abuser. Could it be that whatever shady business Paul and Ken Fenton were involved in was the real reason Brad had taken the job here at Tealicious? The man could have worked at any upscale restaurant in Manhattan. Why had he settled for a tea shop in a backwater like McKinlay Mill?

  Amy interrupted Katie’s reverie by bringing her food. She thanked the woman and tried to smile. She also tried to tell herself she was being ridiculous looking for underhanded behavior on Brad’s part when she had nothing in the way of proof. But was she being ridiculous?

  Her ringtone sounded. Katie pulled out her cell phone but didn’t recognize the number. She decided to answer anyway. “Katie Bonner, how may I help you?”

  “Hi, Katie. This is John Healy. You called for an estimate.”

  Healy. Who the heck is John Healy? Then it dawned on her: the contractor. “Yes, Mr. Healy. Thank you for returning my call.”

  “I’m in the area, and I can be at your tea shop in about fifteen minutes if you’d meet me there.”

  “I’m here now,” she said, “and I’ll definitely stay put. I’m looking forward to getting your thoughts on the renovation.”

  “Great. See you soon.” The call ended.

  Katie glanced out the window to see Paul Fenton walk away and a considerably calmer Brad turn back to enter the building. She didn’t look in his direction as he abandoned the dining room for a direct line to the kitchen.

  Curious.

  Katie had just enough time to finish her lunch before Healy arrived. He appeared to be in his early fifties, with thinning salt-and-pepper hair and gray-green eyes. His face had the leathery appearance of someone who spent a lot of time outside with no thought of sun protection, and he wore a friendly smile. Healy gave Katie a warm handshake and asked her to call him John.

  On the way upstairs, Katie explained to Healy that she wanted to turn the area into a loft apartment.

  He nodded thoughtfully but kept his opinions to himself, other than to ask, “Will you be wanting a separate entrance?”

  “I’d like an estimate both with and without a separate entrance,” she said. “Ideally, I’d love a separate entrance, especially if, in the future, I ever decide to lease the apartment to someone else. But I’m not sure I can afford it.”

  Healy took a small notebook from the back pocket of his jeans and a pencil from behind his ear. He flipped open the notebook and jotted down, Estimate with and without separate entrance.

  After inspecting the loft area, Healy retrieved a measuring tape from a front pocket and, other than asking Katie to hold one end now and then, he worked quietly. He listened to her suggestions and made a few of his own.

  At last, he studied the notes he’d made and said, “For a job this size, I can use our design software to work up a couple of different plans for you. With each plan, I’ll give you an estimate both with and without the addition of a separate entrance. But, for what it’s worth, I believe you’re going to get tired of coming and going through the tea shop all the time. Plus, it’ll be a pain in the butt to put the entrance in later if you change your mind.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement, John. Thank you.”

  He handed
her a card. “On the back of this card is a website that’s hidden from the public. It has a list of references on it, complete with phone numbers and email addresses. I’d appreciate it if you don’t share it with anyone, but feel free to contact any of the people on the page to ask about my work.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “While I’ll get the plans to you within the next few days, I wouldn’t be able to start the job until at least September. Is that all right?”

  She smiled. “If you could do it any sooner, I’d be concerned.”

  He laughed. “I’ll be in touch.”

  * * *

  —

  When Katie entered Artisans Alley, she was delighted to see Rose back at cash desk one.

  “Rose!” she cried and welcomed her friend back with a warm hug. “Are you better?”

  “I am, but the doctor says I still need to take it easy for a few days in order to participate in the walkathon.” Rose lowered her voice. “How are you? I heard about poor Ray.”

  Katie blew out a breath. “Well, I survived a night with the Davenport sisters. And that wasn’t as easy as you might think.”

  “Oh, I know very well that girls can be spiteful when they think they’re protecting their dad . . . or asserting their independence . . . or well, just about anything.”

  They both laughed.

  “I’m so glad you’re doing better,” Katie said. “Ray is home now, and I hope this whole matter will be resolved soon.”

  Rose looked all around to ensure they weren’t in danger of being overheard. “You don’t think . . . ? I mean . . . there’s . . . probably no way Ray is guilty . . . right?”

  “That’s absolutely right.”

  “I . . . I agree with you . . . I do. But Nona . . . well, Sue told me that Nona has been visiting the other merchants on the Square trying to get Ray voted out of the Victoria Square Merchants Association.”

  Katie frowned. “What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

  Rose shrugged. “I suppose that when Ray got arrested, Nona took that as a guilty verdict.”