Read Murder at the Book Fair Online
Authors: Steve Demaree
Tags: #Maraya21, #Literature & Fiction, #Humor & Satire, #Thriller & Suspense, #mystery, #Cozy
Grimes had given me his
brother-in-law's name and phone number, and the name of the place where he
stayed. I called both places. The motel confirmed that he had checked in a
little after
1:00
on Friday and checked out at
10:12
on Sunday morning. His brother-in-law confirmed
that he had joined the family on Friday afternoon and was with them until after
11:00
that night. He also said that
Grimes joined some of the family for breakfast early Saturday morning, and
again on Sunday morning before he left town. Most of the family were together
until after
10:00
on Saturday night, and Grimes was
one of those people at that gathering. Technically Grimes could have driven
back to Kentucky on either Friday night or Saturday night to murder Portwood,
but it was a three-and-a-half hour drive each way, so that was doubtful. That
meant that Grimes had to be the murderer. The others were too close to where
Portwood was murdered.
I hung up and called the motel
where Grimes said he stayed. Well, he must have stayed there, because he showed
me proof of it. I talked to a guy at the front desk, told him who I was, and
that I was working on a murder investigation, and asked him if he remembered a
guy named Dan Grimes.
"I don't remember most people
by name, but him I remember. I got off work at
11:00
, but hung around a while talking to my replacement. I'd
say it was just before
midnight
when Grimes walked into the
lobby. It turned out that he was a big
UK
basketball fan, and I'm a big IU fan, so we talked basketball in the lounge for
over an hour. He told me he was up here for a wedding. He stayed here Saturday
night too, but he must have gotten back here after I got off work, because I
left right after I got off that night and I didn't see him walk in. Of course,
he could have come in when I had my back turned or stepped away from the desk
for a minute. We're not usually that busy late at night. Most everyone checks
in by
8:00
."
I thanked the guy for his time and
hung up without discussing basketball. I thought about telling him that the
UK
and UofL basketball coaches and were together on
Saturday, but I didn't want to brag about who I hung out with.
I did the math. If Grimes left for
Frankfort
right after the guy at the motel
left for the night, and he poisoned Portwood quickly and rushed back to the
motel in
Indiana
, he could have been back by
8:00
. But supposedly, he was already eating breakfast with
family by then. Maybe if I used the new math I could work it in that Grimes was
the murderer.
I didn't feel too good about the
chances of either of Portwood's neighbors murdering him, either. I couldn't
see either one of them waiting for him at his garage, handing him something to
drink as he drove into the garage, and saying, "Here, drink this. It will
be good for me."
And as much as I didn't like
Portwood's brother or sister, I didn't see either of them being in close enough
proximity to poison him at the book fair. Too many witnesses. And when he left,
he left with Cartwright, who admitted to being with him. When does a murderer
admit to being with the victim? Particularly since I don't think I could find a
witness who could state that Portwood and Cartwright were together.
It was beginning to look like my
best suspect would be a hitchhiker Portwood picked up on his way home. Maybe
the guy robbed Portwood of the $50,000 he was still carrying and poisoned him
so he wouldn't tell anyone about it. My brain was on overload. It was time to
quit thinking so much and make another phone call.
+++
Bob Barney was next on my list. I
called him to see if Portwood had had any visitors in the last six months. He
said that Portwood was in and out every few days, sometimes for a few hours,
but that he didn't remember one time when someone had come to see him. He also
said he didn't remember himself having any visitors or Millie Longacre having
any, either. None of them had any family, other than the brother and sister
Portwood didn't speak to, and none of them were sociable people. But they did
their best to help each other out whenever one of them needed something. He
said maybe it was time for him to look in on Millie to see if she needed
anything.
"Do you have any idea if she
left her place anytime Friday or Saturday?"
"She left once. Went into
town to the grocery and to run errands."
"When was that and how long
was she gone?"
"I'm thinking it was Friday
around
noon
. I think she was gone maybe a
couple of hours tops."
"And she didn't leave again
after that?"
"I don't think she's been out
of her house since then. Well, other than when she went over to find Cyril's
body."
"You said you thought she
went over to Portwood's Saturday night."
"I still think she did, but
she says she didn't."
"What about you?"
"I haven't been anywhere,
although I'll need to go to the grocery at the end of the week."
+++
I had run out of ideas that would
help me move the case along when my phone rang. It was Jennifer.
"Cy, all the restaurants
around here are so close by, and Thelma Lou and I sure would like to see what
we think of that new van of yours. Are you too tired to go to
Lexington
for dinner?"
I really was, but I wanted to see
her. And then I thought of something.
"Hey, I've got an idea. How
about tomorrow we can all go to
Cincinnati
and eat at The Cheesecake Factory?"
"I like your idea better, and
if Thelma Lou doesn't, I can talk her into it. So, tonight, how about coming
over here for a little while. Maybe I can whip up some soup and sandwiches, or
spaghetti and meatballs?"
"Soup and sandwiches sound
fine. Are we inviting those other two?"
"If we don't, they might find
out."
"I don't care, but I guess we
ought to invite them."
We took off for
Cincinnati
right after church. We got to The
Cheesecake Factory right at
2:30
. We
were told there was a thirty minute wait. For a parking place. No, actually
while it's hard to find parking in a mall with a Cheesecake Factory, we lucked
out and only had to wait thirty minutes for a table for four. I had heard that
the best time to have a short wait at a Cheesecake Factory is between
3:00-4:00
in the afternoon. I suspected the line was shorter
at
2:00 a.m.
, but there would be a longer wait
for a table.
The problem I have with the
Cheesecake Factory is that they only offer around one hundred entree choices
and fifty cheesecake choices. It's a good thing they have desserts other than
cheesecake. I figured I could work my way around the Cheesecake Factory's menu
in just a few months. All I needed was to live some place that had a Cheesecake
Factory and a Pancake Pantry. I had heard that
Nashville
had both. And they were both on the same road. Maybe I
would be moving to
Tennessee
. I would have all my dining
choices taken care of and I would pray that God would take care of my
metabolism. I knew what it meant to be short for my weight. I didn't want that
to happen again.
+++
I woke up Monday morning and
immediately called Lou. I knew he would be up. Lou is an early bird.
"Good morning, Lou, do you
have today's clue?"
"I'm doing fine, and you,
Cy?"
"I'll be better when you tell
me today's clue. I want to get this thing solved. Has God already given you the
clue?"
"Well, He did say He thinks
you need to pray for more patience."
"I don't think He said
that."
"He must have. It's the
truth. Remember, I don't get these clues by audio books. It's more of a silent
transfer from the smartest of all to one of the smartest human beings."
"I know. That's what I'm
waiting for. The transfer to one of the smartest of human beings. Let's start
over. Good morning, Lou. I hope you rested well. I'm concerned about your well
being. By the way, do you by any chance have today's clue for solving this
murder?"
"What do you think I am, a
fortune cookie?"
"No. Someone who provides
little to the solution of our cases other than being a go-between who receives
a clue each day."
"A clue which God doesn't
trust you with."
"No, a clue that is your only
contribution to each case."
"So, do you want me to go
ahead and tell you who did it?"
"As long as you don't say the
murderer."
"Okay. It was Portwood."
"You think he committed
suicide?"
"No, I think he's the only
one who couldn't be the murderer, so I mentioned his name just in case my lucky
guess would be right and mess up your entire week."
"Just tell me today's
clue."
"Who wrote it?"
"Who wrote what?"
"Today's clue."
"I don't think anyone wrote
it. You said God gives it to you in your thoughts each day. At any point, I
don't know. Who did write it?"
"Write what?"
"It."
"Today's clue."
"I don't think anyone wrote
it. I think God whispered it into your feeble brain."
"1 Kings 19."
"1 Kings 19 what?"
"That tells about the time
God appeared in a gentle whisper. Remember, He wasn't in the fire. He wasn't in
the wind. He was in a gentle whisper."
"Unlike you who will be in
the fire if you don't tell me today's clue."
"Patience, my friend."
"Is there any chance God
would be willing to share his clues with Heather?"
"Oh, I don't think I'm the
only one God communicates with."
"Let's pick up on that. And
did He in a gentle whisper tell you what today's clue is?"
"It was silent. I didn't hear
anything. But today's clue is who wrote it."
"And He didn't tell you what
it
is?"
"That would make it too
easy."
"I'm ready to be retired
again. I'm all for easy."
"So you think someone wrote
Portwood's books for him and he paid them $50,000 a year to do it? And maybe
they found out he was worth a lot of money and asked for more?"
"No, I think Portwood wrote
James Patterson's books."
"Well, Bert McHugh,
Portwood's lawyer, did say he didn't think anyone could blackmail
Portwood."
"And I say neither one of us
has a clue what
it
is."
"I think we're in agreement.
I thought we were through with all this tough stuff when we retired."
"That's what we get for being
good at what we do and people find out about it."
"And I have no idea what
it
is. But I don't think it's Portwood's books. Otherwise God would have given me,
'Who wrote them?'"
"Sounds logical."
"So, for the time being we
have something else to worry about."
"Except that the Bible tells
us not to worry."
Just after I ended my call with
Lou, Herb Wainscott called. He informed me that he was able to pull some
strings, and I could check with those
Frankfort
banks as soon as we got back there. I called Lou and we
got things in motion.
We spent the first part of our
trip listening to some of the big band sounds of the forties, then switched
over to the fifties station. My parents listened to music of both decades. I
can remember the time when I was growing up when they would put some 45s on the
hi-fi and dance to those songs of the fifties. They loved Elvis, Pat Boone,
Frankie Avalon, Dion, and a lot of doo-wop. They loved The Platters and the
Mills Brothers. But that was mainly slow stuff. They would push all the living
room chairs out of the way and start dancing. I loved watching them dance to
some of those fast songs. Mom kept trying to get me up to dance with her, but I
kept pulling away. Now, I'm thinking about taking dancing lessons. Am I turning
into my parents?
+++