A Murderous Glaze (10 page)

“Neither is Bill,” I admitted. “I don’t want to get you in trouble with your husband.”

“Don’t worry about that. I can handle him. The only problem is, Myrna didn’t know the man Betty was arguing with. She said she didn’t recognize him, but we both know what that probably means.”

“I’m guessing she didn’t give you any kind of description.”

“Sorry, she said it was dark. I guess it wasn’t as big a tip as I thought.”

“You never know. Thanks for calling.”

I could hear her husband calling, “Martha, where are my golf shoes? I know they’re in here somewhere.”

“They’re in the garage next to your clubs,” Martha said. To me, she added, “Carolyn, I’ve got to go. Packing for this family for a week is like moving the army.”

“Bye, and have fun.”

“You bet. Bye.”

I wondered about the identity of the man Betty had been arguing with. Could it have been the sheriff? It was possible. Myrna had lived in town all her life, but would she know Hodges’s voice from a distance? Or Larry Wickline’s, for that matter? Who else could it have been? Herman had a key so he had to be on my list, but would Myrna have recognized him in the dark, either? I doubted the two of them traveled in the same circles. Could it have been Robert Owens, perhaps? The potter was new to Maple Ridge. But he’d claimed to be out of town, back in North Carolina. Besides, surely she’d be able to recognize his southern accent. Or did he have it when he was shouting? I didn’t know, and I wasn’t going to get into an argument with him just to test my theory. I wasn’t sure how I could check his alibi, and I wondered if I should tell the sheriff. Then I realized something else. Did that eliminate my female suspects? I had a handful of those as well, and it would certainly help my investigation if I could pare my list in half. That way I could drop Tamra Gentry, Connie Minsker, Evelyn Hodges, and even Kendra Williams, along with the rest of the female population of Maple Ridge.

Then again, maybe the argument didn’t have anything to do with Betty’s murder. Detecting was harder than it looked—there was no doubt about that—but I had no choice.

Jenna came in the shop a few minutes after I opened. Usually I welcomed any of the members of the Firing Squad, but from the dour expression on her face, I was afraid this wasn’t about the latest glaze we were trying at the shop.

“We need to talk,” she said.

“Those words usually strike terror in the hearts of married men, but to be honest with you, I’m not too keen on them right now myself. What’s going on?”

“The whispers are growing,” she said.

“Don’t tell me. I’m being tried in the court of public opinion, aren’t I?”

“The longer this case goes unsolved, the more folks are starting to believe you might have had something to do with Betty’s murder. Have you made any progress?”

“Not that you’d notice. I keep adding suspects instead of eliminating them. It’s growing at a pretty scary rate. I’m beginning to wonder if the woman had any friends at all. If she did, I haven’t been able to find them.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t stumble across anything at her house last night. Carolyn Emerson, what were you thinking? I can’t believe the sheriff caught you breaking and entering.”

“We had a key,” I said, though even I realized how feeble I sounded.

“You had someone with you? Would you care to name your co-conspirator?”

“So how is it that everyone knows I was there, but not the identity of my accomplice?”

She didn’t take the bait. “So you admit it’s true?”

“I had a legitimate purpose for being there,” I said.

“I’d love to hear it.” Jenna gave me a stern look that must have intimidated attorneys on both sides, but she wasn’t a judge anymore, and we weren’t in court.

“I’m sorry, I’m starting to forget again. Whose side are you on?”

She frowned. “I believe you—you shouldn’t even have to ask—but you have to consider how this looks to everyone else.”

“And here I thought I was trying to solve a murder instead of being elected maple-syrup queen.”

“It’s obvious I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” she said. “We’ll discuss it later.”

“Or we won’t,” I said without even looking at her. I wasn’t a big fan of being lectured to, not by Jenna, not by Bill, not by anybody.

I looked down at the sales catalog of glazes I’d been reading when Jenna had come in. I expected to hear her leave, but after a few seconds, when there wasn’t a whisper of movement in the store, I looked up and saw tears tracking down her cheeks. All thoughts of my indignation were swept away in that trickle as I dropped the catalog and hugged my friend.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that,” I said.

Jenna shook her head as she pulled away. “I’m the one who owes you an apology. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that I’m not a judge anymore. I have a tendency to overstep my bounds. It’s just because I care about you, Carolyn.”

“I care about you, too,” I said. “And I really do appreciate your input.”

“But you’ll do as you wish anyway, is that it?”

I shrugged. “I don’t have much choice.” I thought about sharing the clues I’d found at Betty’s house the night before, but I suddenly realized I should be talking to the entire group about it. And that included David, no matter how Hannah felt about it. I needed to gather them together to discuss where things stood, but I couldn’t do it in the evening. With Martha out of town, that left Jenna, Butch, David, and Sandy. Sandy was the only one with regular employment, and if she couldn’t make it, I could catch her up later. “We need to have a meeting,” I said.

“I’m ready if you are. What would you like to talk about?”

“Not just the two of us,” I said. “You call Butch and I’ll call Sandy. David’s due in here in half an hour, so let’s make it then. Sorry, I should have asked. Are you free this morning?”

“I’m all yours, and I’d be delighted to help in any way I can. I should have said that the second I walked in the door instead of coming here to scold you.”

“Is that what that was? I didn’t notice,” I said with a grin. “Call Butch.”

I knew the reformed crook would come at Jenna’s bidding, and David wouldn’t be a problem. I dialed Sandy’s number at the library. After I identified myself, I said, “Hey, is there any way you could come over to the shop in half an hour? We’re going to have a special meeting of the Firing Squad.”

“I don’t know. Things are kind of crazy around here. What happened? Did you get a new kiln or something?”

“No, I guess I should have explained. It’s about Betty Wickline.”

There was a long pause, so before she could answer, I added, “It’s okay with me if you can’t make it. I understand. I’ll bring you up to date after we meet.”

“Let me talk to Corki and I’ll get back to you.” Corki Mills was the library director in our town, and she’d come by the shop to try her hand at some glazing a few times in the past. We shared the same love of books and had spent a few pleasant Saturdays discussing the latest bestsellers.

“Okay, come by if you can, but seriously, don’t worry if you can’t.”

After I hung up, Jenna said, “Butch is busy, but he’s going to try to get here.”

“What’s he doing? Did he say?”

“No.” Jenna frowned. “He was a little too reticent for my taste. I do hope he hasn’t slipped.”

“I’m sure he hasn’t,” I said, though I wished I felt as positive as I tried to sound. It would break Jenna’s heart to see Butch back behind bars. I wondered if romance was beginning to blossom there, and how they would deal with such disparate pasts. Love had found stranger places to grow, though.

“What do we do in the meantime?”

I opened the cash register and pulled out a twenty. “Would you mind getting us some coffee and maybe something to nibble on? I hate to ask, but I can’t leave the shop. Our coffeepot died last week, and I haven’t gotten around to replacing it yet.” It wasn’t the greatest choice of words, but she knew what I meant.

“I’d be delighted, but you should keep your money. This will be my treat.”

I kept the twenty extended in my hand. “I insist.”

“But I want to.”

I laughed at her, then said, “Jenna, we can stand here trying to out-stubborn each other until everybody else arrives, but then we won’t have anything to offer the rest of our group, will we?”

She took the twenty, then paused at the door. “Just because I took your money doesn’t mean I’m going to use it.”

And then she ducked out before I could reply.

I didn’t fritter away my time while I waited for the others to arrive. For once, I was glad for our lack of customers. It gave me time to set things up in the back of the shop. When the group started trickling in twenty minutes later, I’d set up a blackboard we used sometimes for teaching and had the chairs arranged in back. Hopefully the Firing Squad would have some insights into the information I’d acquired. Without their help, I didn’t stand a chance of figuring out who had killed Betty Wickline, and why.

Butch glanced at his watch after David showed up and Jenna returned with coffees and pastries. “Can we get this moving? I’ve got something going on I can’t leave for too long at a time.”

“Would you care to share what that might be with the rest of us?” Jenna asked.

“No, ma’am, I’m playing this one close to the vest.”

I looked at the clock and saw that it was time to start. “Sandy must not have been able to get away. That’s fine. I’ll call her after we finish.”

I dead-bolted the front door and flipped the sign to “Closed.” David said, “This must be serious if you’re willing to turn away paying customers.”

“We can’t very well have them barging in on us, can we? Let’s all go to the back.”

We walked back together and three seconds later heard a pounding on the front door.

“Should I see who it is?” David asked.

“No, they’ll just have to come back later.” I was serious about figuring this out, and if it meant I lost some sales in the short run, so be it.

Ten seconds later my store phone rang. “Let the machine get it,” I told David as he reached for it.

Then my cell phone rang. What was going on? It had been quiet all morning, and now I couldn’t get a moment’s peace. I flipped it open and said, “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Sandy. I’ve been pounding on the front door. Didn’t you hear me?”

“Hang on a second.” I hung up the phone and walked to the front. As I let Sandy in, she said, “I thought you’d all gone somewhere else.”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to let any customers in.”

“No, you can’t have that, can you? Corki’s covering the desk. She said she felt like she was on her old turf again. She had my job before I got it. You knew that, didn’t you?”

“That’s what she told me one day. We’re all in back,” I said as we joined the others.

“Where’s Martha?” Sandy asked. “What a silly question. With that clan of hers, I’m always amazed when she makes our regular meetings.”

“She’s out of town,” I said. “Shall we get started?”

Sandy said, “I suppose you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today. Sorry, I’ve always wanted to say that.”

I shook my head, fighting to hide my smile. I couldn’t afford any merriment. Things were getting dire.

“Okay, thanks for coming everyone. I need your help again. I’ve been collecting information, but so far, I haven’t been able to figure out what to do with it.”

Butch said, “I always make lists when I’m trying to decide something tough. Good points and bad, you know?”

“That’s what I do as well,” Jenna said.

“Thus the blackboard,” I said. “I’m going to list the suspects I’ve got so far, and I need your help figuring out what I should do next.”

“Write on,” Sandy said. “Sorry, it makes more sense if you see it in print.” She took the chalk from me and wrote “Right On” and beside it, “Write On.”

I erased it, then said, “My, you’re in a good mood.”

“I’m sorry, I know this is serious, but Jake asked me out again today, and he sent me half a dozen red roses at work.”

“How sweet,” Jenna said.

“Why didn’t he spring for a whole dozen?” Butch asked. “What is he, cheap?”

“Please, can we focus here?” Honestly, sometimes I felt like I was herding cats.

Everyone murmured apologies and then fell silent. I wrote the names of my suspects on the board down the left side, and it was an impressive list by the time I was finished. It read:

Butch whistled as I finished. “That’s quite a roll call. A few of the names I’m not sure about. Care to explain how they made your roster? Some motives might be nice.”

I nodded. After all, it was a fair question. “The sheriff may or may not have been having an affair with Betty, and Larry Wickline could have been trying to get out of paying any more alimony. I’m not sure about Robert Owens, but he admitted knowing her, and he has a key. The same goes for Herman Meadows.”

“And exactly who is he again?” Jenna asked.

“Sorry. He’s my landlord. He also owns a few other places along the brook walk.” I turned back to the board. “Let’s see, Betty was on Tamra’s hung jury, and there’s a suspicion Betty might have been blackmailing her.” I glanced for a split second at Jenna, who studiously avoided my gaze. “Connie Minsker wanted to marry Larry Wickline, but he kept refusing, claiming alimony payments as his excuse. By the way, if Connie did kill Betty, Larry better watch his back. He dumped her after the murder, and Connie’s ready to skin him alive.”

Sandy asked, “Now how on earth did you know that?”

“I was getting a trim, and Connie told me.”

She studied my hair. “It doesn’t look any different to me. Were you at the beauty shop for a styling or for some snooping?”

“Both,” I said.

David added, “Can we get back to your list? I understand Evelyn Hodges being on it, but why Kendra? The woman drives me crazy most of the time, but that doesn’t make her a murderer.”

“She had a key to the shop, and despite what Herman Meadows thinks, I’m positive I locked up that night. Well, almost positive. Fairly certain, anyway.”

Butch smiled. “So you might have forgotten to lock the place up.”

“It’s a possibility,” I admitted. “It’s happened a few times before.”

Butch shook his head. “Carolyn, you need to shut the place up tight every night. There are dangerous people out there.”

I resisted any pot-and-kettle analogies. “I’ve been careful ever since. So, there you have it.”

Jenna spoke up. “Don’t forget the last leg of the tripod. The murderer needed the opportunity to commit the crime. Can you rule any of your suspects out that way?”

I shrugged. “Getting an alibi out of any of them was nearly impossible. Robert Owens claimed he was in North Carolina, but I can’t prove that one way or the other. The rest of them were evasive when I asked them where they were.”

Jenna said sternly, “Do you mean to say you’ve questioned each of these people directly about the murder? Have you lost your mind?” She immediately looked as though she’d regretted her outburst.

Butch nodded his head. “I’ve got to agree with the judge. You took a real chance doing that.”

“What choice did I have?” I protested. “Nobody’s going to do anything if I don’t keep stirring things up.”

“Then what about the front window? Couldn’t you take that as a warning?” Butch asked.

Sandy said, “Wait a second, am I missing something?”

“Somebody threw a brick through her window,” Butch said.

“That’s horrid,” Sandy said.

“It’s fine now,” I said.

David was silent as he studied the board. “Is this all you’ve got?”

“No, there’s something else. Actually, two things. I found them last night when I was in Betty’s house.”

Everyone started asking questions with the exception of Jenna, who sat there expressionless. “I was there with a friend,” I said, overriding their queries. “The place had been trashed. Somebody was looking for something, and I think it had something to do with Betty’s murder.”

They all listened intently as I described the scene I’d found. Finally, Butch said, “You know, I hate to bring this up, but it might have been because of the funeral and not because of the murder.”

“That’s what the sheriff said,” I admitted.

Sandy asked, “What does that mean?”

I nodded to Butch, who explained. “There’s a certain undesirable element that takes advantage of situations when someone who lives alone dies. They read the newspaper obituaries and make their strikes while the family’s at the funeral home.”

“That’s terrible,” David said.

Butch just shrugged. “It happens.” Then he looked at me. “But you don’t think this was random, do you?”

“No, I can’t imagine it’s not related to the murder.”

“Then let me ask you this,” Butch said. “Were there any valuables around? I’m talking jewelry, cash, anything a burglar might be interested in?”

I tried to think back on the scene, but for the life of me I couldn’t say one way or the other. “I honestly don’t remember.”

He shook his head. “Carolyn, you’ve got to notice these kinds of things, especially if you’re going to keep risking your life like this.”

Jenna patted his arm. “Don’t lecture her, Butch. She’s had enough of that today.”

He shrugged. “Sorry. You’re a big girl; you can take care of yourself. So, you said you found two things. What were they?”

I pulled the key out of my purse, along with the slip of paper I’d found stuck to the bottom of my shoe. I’d put the paper in a plastic sandwich bag to be sure I didn’t do any more damage to it than I already had. “This key was in one of her shoes, and this paper must have been somewhere in the house.”

Butch reached for the key. “It’s from a locker like you’d find at a bus terminal. Do you mind if I hold on to this? I can ask around.”

“I’d appreciate that,” I said.

Sandy reached for the paper and studied it for a few seconds. “Now that’s odd.”

“What does it say?” David asked.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot to write that down too,” I said. I wrote the letters I’d found on the sheet on the board, “is,” “ight,” and “one” indeed looked odd without any explanation.

Sandy was studying the sheet as I wrote. “It’s a puzzle, isn’t it? I’m good at those.”

“So am I,” Jenna said. “Carolyn, can you make copies of this for us? I’d like to study it more.”

“That’s a great idea,” I said. “I never thought of that. David, would you mind?”

He took the paper and started for the office, where we had a small copier. “Be careful with it,” I said.

“I’ll handle it by the edges,” he said. “After all, I don’t want my fingerprints on it, too, do I?”

I suddenly realized that my prints were all over it. “I don’t think it matters at this point. Hodges won’t believe I found it at Betty’s house, and even if I can convince him, I don’t see how that can work out well for me. Maybe I should have given him the key and the paper last night.”

Jenna wanted to say something; I could tell by the way she sat forward for a second before sitting resolutely back in her chair. I knew she didn’t approve of my snooping, but she wouldn’t say anything to the sheriff. At least I hoped she wouldn’t.

“Here, copy this, too,” Butch said as he tossed the key to David.

“That’s a good idea. I’m afraid I destroyed the fingerprints on that as well.”

Butch grinned. “Nothing to worry about there. It was a little tarnished, so I polished it with the edge of my shirt.” Jenna was staring hard at him, so he added, “What? Old habits die hard.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Jenna said.

Butch scowled at her. “I told you, I’m reformed.”

After David came back with copies for everyone and handed them out, I said, “That’s it. I’m not sure where to go next, so that’s why I called you all here.”

“Now we look around a little, too,” Butch said. “And you be careful.”

“I will,” I said.

“I mean it,” Butch replied forcefully. “Don’t take any more chances.”

“You sound just like my husband.”

“Then you should listen to both of us.” He turned to David. “I need that key.”

He looked at me first, and I nodded. After all, it wouldn’t do me any good, and Butch might be able to find out what lock it fit into. David tossed it to Butch, and he caught it in one fluid motion.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve really got to go,” Butch said.

“We’re finished here. Remember, let me know as soon as any of you come up with anything, okay?”

They all agreed, and as I let them out, David and I reopened the shop for business. Although my investigation was basically no further along than it had been earlier that morning, I felt better having the Firing Squad helping me. If two heads were better than one, how much stronger were we now that all of us were working on the case?

Herman Meadows showed up at the shop just as I was getting ready to leave for lunch. “Do you have a second?”

“Just that. I’m on my way out.”

He nodded. “Listen, I know things have been rough on you this past week, and all I wanted to say was that if you need a little more time for the rent, I can give you a week or two extra to pay it.”

“I can write you a check right now,” I said as I reached into the register for my checkbook.

“Carolyn, I wasn’t dunning you for the money,” Herman said.

“I know that, but look at it this way. You’ll save me a stamp.” I studied the balance of my business checkbook to make sure I could cover my rent and was relieved to see that I had a three-month cushion before things got really scary, though I hoped my situation would resolve itself long before then. I wrote the check, tore it off, and handed it to him. “There you go. It’s even two days early.”

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, holding the check up in the air.

“The business is doing perfectly fine,” I said. What a lie. We were in sorry shape, but I wasn’t about to admit it to my landlord.

“Good enough.”

I’d given him his check, so why was he still standing in my shop? “Did you want to glaze a pot while you were here?” I asked.

“No, thanks. I don’t have anybody to give it to,” he said a little sadly.

“Don’t worry,” I said as I patted his arm. “You’ll find someone special.”

“What? No, I didn’t mean it that way,” he said, quickly recovering his roosterlike bravado. “What I should have said is that there are so many ladies in my life, I couldn’t afford to make something for every last one of them.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” I lied. If he wanted to live in that particular delusion, far be it from me to try to dissuade him.

He made a production of tucking the check into his shirt pocket, then said, “Thanks for this. See you next month.”

If only that were true, but my landlord had a habit of popping in and out of the shop whenever he pleased. I wished he
could
find someone. Maybe then he’d leave me and the rest of his tenants alone.