Murder at the Art & Craft Fair (7 page)

Chapter
Twelve

The look on Lou’s face when he picked me up for church
on Sunday morning told me that he had either gotten frustrated trying to put
his 3-D puzzle together or that something was wrong with Jennifer or Thelma
Lou.

“What’s wrong?”

“Cy, I got a message.”

I had known Lou long enough to know that he hadn’t
gotten a text or an e-mail, or that Thelma Lou had told him that she didn’t
want to date him anymore. When Lou said he got a message, it meant that a
thought had entered his mind, and not just any thought. Each time he had gotten
one of those thoughts someone had been murdered. When this happened he
continued to receive a thought for the day until we were able to solve the
murder. The thoughts were so accurate and helpful that I told Lou they were his
messages from God.

I wondered what time today Lou and I would receive a
page from the department telling us that date time was over. Maybe Jennifer and
I weren’t going to spend the day together after all. As I thought of this, my
look began to resemble the one on Lou’s face.

“What was the message?”

“Baubles, bangles, and beads.”

“Isn’t that the name of an old song?”

“It is. And I was sure you’d ask me that, so I Googled
it. It was from the movie
Kismet.
”

“Don’t think I saw that movie. So, what does it mean?”

Lou gave me the same look he always gave me when I
asked him that question. Lou had told me many times that if the messages as I
called them were from God, that God didn’t give him the gift of interpreting
that message.”

“Cy, did you by any chance receive any unexpected
presents this morning?”

“None that I’m aware of. You think that Jennifer’s
been by here?”

“No. Cy. We’ve got a couple of minutes to spare. Let’s
take a look out back, or in your back door.”

“You think the body might be there?”

“Let’s just look, Cy.”

I decided to play along with Lou’s game. I hoisted
myself up out of Lou’s car and ambled down my driveway to the backyard, a
puzzled look on my face. No sooner had I rounded the corner of the house than I
realized that someone had been at work. There, for all the world to see, sat a
sandbox. And not just a sandbox, but a sandbox full of sand, and with a pail
and shovel, for those times when I wanted to sit and play in the sand. I stood there,
smiling to myself, contemplating some of the ways I would get even with George.
Realizing that church wouldn’t wait for me, I turned and headed back to Lou’s
car, ready to compare sandboxes, pails, and shovels. My pail was blue, my
shovel red. I wondered what color Lou’s was.

I got back in the car and looked at my partner in
crime solving.

“So, Lou, what color was yours?”

“What color was my what?”

“Pail and shovel. I assume you received a sandbox,
too.”

“No, Cy, I guess George took into consideration that I
live in an apartment building, so I merely opened my front door this morning to
find a container of Legos and some Tinker Toys.”

“Oh, Lou, we must get together and play sometime.”

“I’m all for that. Let’s play Houdini, and we’ll let
George be Houdini first. Got any extra handcuffs?”

“Sure do, but I had planned to use them on Jennifer.”

“Cy, you don’t need handcuffs for her. She’ll come
willingly. George, on the other hand, might be a different matter. We might
need to Taser him first.”

“How about if we just hit him over the head?”

“As long as it’s not too hard, just hard enough to
daze him while we cuff him.”        

“Sounds good to me. Let’s cuff him, bury him in sand,
and give him a breathing tube.”

We sat there for a couple of minutes thinking about
our new toys, until we realized that if we didn’t leave soon we would be late
for church. As Lou backed his car out of my driveway, my thoughts returned to
the message Lou received. All the way to church I hoped that I didn’t receive a
page during the sermon. Even with all the murder cases Lou and I have worked
on, we’ve never gotten paged during the pastor’s sermon, but there is always a
first time for everything. As it turned out, we received no page during the
pastor’s sermon. I still hadn’t received a call from someone at the department
by the time we picked the girls up to go back to the art and craft fair. All
the way to Thelma Lou’s house I debated on whether or not to let them know that
our date might end prematurely. I decided not to tread upon that moment until
it arrived.

+++

We arrived at Thelma Lou’s and found out the girls had
fixed a picnic basket lunch for the four of us. Since everything inside was to
be consumed in one manner or another, there would be nothing to bring back,
except the basket. Depending on what purchases we made, the basket might be
able to hold whatever we bought. If so, it meant that all of us would purchase
less than we purchased the day before. I didn’t see any photographs that would
fit in the picnic basket, and most of the puzzles would stretch its limit. Now,
I could get a book or two, in case some new author dropped by or Tim Callahan
cornered Jennifer again, and a basket could hold a boatload of jewelry. A
basket full of jewelry would cost a boatload, too.

Lou managed to find a parking place a little closer to
the park on Sunday than he did on Saturday. I doubted if we would purchase as
much as we did the previous day, but it was good not to have to walk quite so
far, even if we left empty-handed.

It seemed like others had the same idea the girls had,
because I noticed a man with a wife and kids, and he too was carrying a picnic
basket. When we got to the park, I spotted two others with picnic baskets and a
couple of coolers.

Jennifer carried a tote, which I found out carried a
tablecloth to spread out over the picnic table, paper plates, and plastic
eating utensils. The girls started unloading our basket and Lou and I started
smacking our lips. We ate and talked. Jennifer had written down the numbers of
the booths she wanted to visit again. I considered stopping by the puzzle man’s
booth again, but I would play it by ear.

Chapter
Thirteen

I watched the crowd, which was slower to arrive than
the Saturday crowd. I expected that many people went to church before coming,
and some of them might have gone home to eat, or were planning to eat
elsewhere. There was a smattering of people, but not a large crowd checking out
the booths. Saturday, I’d heard someone say that Sunday attendance is usually
only around two-thirds as many as attend on Saturday. I wondered how many of
them were repeat offenders. When any town other than a large city has a special
event once a year and not much else the rest of the year, many people make sure
they take in as much of that event as possible. I expected that many of the
people who were there on Saturday would return to take in Sunday’s festivities,
whether they spent any more money or not. I suspected that some people who
attend town festivals don’t spend money on anything except food. And then there
would be those who looked on Saturday and came back on Sunday to buy.

Finally, we finished eating and threw away our trash
and it was time to be on our way. Jennifer and I headed off to Lisa Kingsley
and Bonnie Crouch’s jewelry booth, which was the lowest number of any of the
booths Jennifer wanted to visit. We looked over their selections and Jennifer
asked me what I thought. Naturally, I said, “Whatever you like. It’s for you.”
She picked out three items and asked me to pick one. I picked up all three and
paid for them. The total cost of all three was less than one hundred dollars,
so it wasn’t like I was going to have to mortgage the house in order to buy
them for her. As soon as we left the booth, Jennifer turned to me and said,
“That’s all, Cy.”

I replied with, “What do you mean, ‘that’s all?’
You’ve marked down four other booths that you wanted to go back to.”

“We can still do that, Cy, but if we do, I’m paying
for mine. And you still haven’t told me what I can get you.”

“I’m a man of few interests. The only things I saw
that I liked were books by those authors who are here, those 3-D wood puzzles
that guy makes, and photographs from some of the photographers who are here,
and I’ve already bought something from all of them.”

“Thelma Lou bought Lou a puzzle. Maybe I can buy you a
second puzzle, for you to do after you work the one you bought yesterday. If
not, I want you to point out a photograph you might have missed yesterday, that
you think would look good in your house.”

I refrained from telling her that I saw one titled
Babes in Bikinis that I thought was interesting. I thought of letting Jennifer
buy me a little something, but I didn’t want to wear it home.

None of the other booths Jennifer had marked down were
on the first row. Upon insistence from Jennifer, I meticulously scanned each
booth to make sure they had nothing I wanted. I looked back and noticed Lou and
Thelma Lou a fair distance behind us, so I motioned to them that we were off to
the second row of booths. We were moving at a much faster pace than we had the
previous day. More of a Cy pace than a Jennifer pace. I was more used to the Cy
pace.

Jennifer made me stop at each booth with photographs.
I weighed each photograph I saw against having another puzzle. I would wait
until I’d looked at everything before I decided. I didn’t expect any new
authors to pop up on Sunday, nor did I expect any of Saturday’s authors to come
out with a new book before Sunday.

All four of the booths Jennifer had written down came
before the puzzle guy, so we visited all of them, made a couple more purchases
that she wouldn’t let me pay for, and trotted off to find the puzzle guy.

We made it to the last row and I glanced to the left
and saw the author who was with the Fob Queen. He had changed shirts. This time
he had on a shirt that said something about UK and eight national
championships. It seemed like I’d read something about that. Maybe it made the
newspaper. I forgot all about him and any national championships, and
remembered why I was there. I wanted to find the puzzle guy, so Jennifer could
be pleased that she bought something for me, too.

I remembered he was located on the last row, and I
darted off to where I thought he was. I scanned the last row of booths and
didn’t see him. Then, I noticed that one tent was still zipped and not open for
business, and that the tent that had been next to it the previous day was no
longer there. I walked up to a woman whose tent was next to the unoccupied one
and inquired if she knew where the puzzle guy was.

“That’s his tent right next to mine. And the guy next
to him on the other side left last night. I don’t think I did anything to
offend either of them.”

“So, he hasn’t been here all day?”

“Which one?”

“The puzzle guy.”

“No, he’s staying at the same motel where I’m staying
and I noticed when I left this morning that his truck and trailer were still
there. That’s unusual, because I’ve done other shows where he is and he’s
usually one of the first vendors to open up.”

“Weren’t you supposed to open at 11:00 today?”

“We were. I got here around 10:30, unzipped my tent
and got everything ready. Sunday is usually a late-arriving crowd. Most people
don’t start coming until noon or after, so some vendors don’t always get here
early, but Tom usually does. And I don’t know what happened to that other guy.
He was packing up Saturday when I left. Most vendors leave their tents up
Saturday night unless the weather is supposed to be bad, but I figured he might
be one of those few who takes down his tent and puts it back up the next day. I
don’t really know him. As far as I know, we’ve never done a show together. I
know that he and Tom got into it yesterday morning. He accused Tom of knocking
some of his stuff off one of his tables when Tom was setting up Friday night.
See, even though things don’t start until Saturday, most vendors set up their
tents Friday night, and some of them even set up their displays. This guy had
come and set up and left before Tom set up. Of course, Tom has a long drive. I
think around five hours or more, so he’s one of the last to set up.”

“Do you have any idea if anyone else here might know
where he is, or why the other guy left?”

“I don’t know anything about the other guy, but I
talked to Lois this morning when we got here. That’s Lois over there,” she said
as she pointed to a tent across the way and up a couple of spots. “She’s the
one who originally told Tom about this show. She’s from western Kentucky too,
so she and Tom do a lot of shows together. Lois was surprised too, commented
that she thought Tom was the one who woke all the birds up on show days.”

I thanked the woman for her help and turned away. I
looked for Lou and Thelma Lou, spotted them just coming into the third row of
booths. Evidently, they weren’t through. I’d wait until they finished, then see
if the others were ready to leave or wanted to hang around a while. I conferred
with Jennifer.

“Cy, the guy has to come back sometime and pack up,
even if he’s sick. Why don’t you find out the motel where he’s staying and call
him?”

“I’ve already got one of his puzzles.”

“I know, but I want to buy you something.”

I thought about telling her that she could buy me a
bikini in her size and wear it for me, but I refrained. I wasn’t sure if she
would smile, kiss me, or hit me, and I didn’t want her to do two of those three
in a crowded park. I didn’t want her to do one of them in an uncrowded park.

I looked at my watch. It was almost 3:00. The show
would be ending in another hour. Surely the puzzle man would be back soon. I
turned back to the woman I’d talked to, but she had a couple of customers in
her booth. We weren’t in a hurry. Lou and Thelma Lou were still enjoying
themselves. I waited until the woman’s booth was empty, then stepped over and
asked her the name of the motel. It was one I was familiar with, one that was
almost as close to the park as the space where Lou parked yesterday. I borrowed
Jennifer’s phone, located the number, and placed a call. I asked for Tom
Kincaid’s room. No one answered. I called back and asked when he was scheduled
to check out and was told he was paid until the next morning. I told them I
thought something might be wrong with him and asked if someone could go check
his room, but was told that since it was Sunday and the maids had already gone
for the day and there was no one else to watch the desk and answer the phone,
no one was available to do that for me.

I wondered if he was sick, or worse, if he might have
had a heart attack. I walked back over to the woman who had helped me and asked
her if Kincaid had ever been sick at a show, and if so, had anyone else watched
his space. She said she and Tom didn’t usually set up next to each other, but
as far as she knew, he had always been at his tent, and had done his own
unloading when he arrived and loaded his truck and trailer when he left. She
said every show where she’d seen him he was alone. Puzzled, I returned to
Jennifer, told her what the woman had told me.

I walked around his tent, checking to see if it had
been ripped. It looked fine to me. I thought maybe if he had sold out, or
almost sold out of merchandise, and his tent had been damaged in some way
during the night, he might have gone home and abandoned his tent. I
contemplated what to do.

“Cy, you’re a policeman. Why don’t you unzip his tent,
see if his merchandise is still there?”

I looked at my watch. It was 3:22. Should I wait a few
more minutes to see if he returned or check out his tent. Lou and Thelma Lou
were still looking at merchandise. I decided to wait a few more minutes, at
least until they joined us.

Jennifer and I walked over to an unoccupied bench and
took a seat. Lou walked over to see if we were in a hurry. I looked at
Jennifer. She shook her head “no.” Before Lou rejoined Thelma Lou I told him
about the puzzle guy. Lou too thought it was strange that he hadn’t opened for
business.

At 3:46, Lou and Thelma Lou seemed to have revisited
all the booths they planned to see and walked over to join us. There was still
no puzzle guy. I told Thelma Lou to keep Jennifer company and motioned for Lou
to come with me, just in case Tom Kincaid showed up while Lou and I were
rifling his tent.

We approached Kincaid’s tent. I bent over to unzip it,
something that would have been much more difficult for me before I started
Wiiing regularly. I unzipped the tent to the top, parted the panels, and
stepped inside. Much of Kincaid’s unsold merchandise lay strewn upon the grass.
So was Kincaid, with his head bashed in, maybe by one of his own creations. I
stood there for a moment surveying the situation, and remembered something that
Kincaid had said the day before. There weren’t puzzle pieces strewn here and
there. Every puzzle, including those that had taken a fall, had held together.
I guess they held up a lot better than Kincaid did, because I was sure that the
murderer didn’t take time to put any of the puzzles back together. At any rate,
date time was over. It was time to go to work.