One Hot Murder (3 page)

Andy leaned in and gave her a quick kiss. “Stop on by later if you get hungry.”

“I will,” she said, giving him a parting smile. She watched him as he rounded up his workers and gathered up his table and the remnants of the makeshift dinner he’d given the firefighters.

Katie turned back to watch the emergency enclosure crew assemble their gear, waiting for the fire chief to give them the okay to board up the smoke-stained building.
Surely that couldn’t happen until the medical examiner had removed the body.

Poor Dennis Wheeler. What had he done to deserve a bullet through the head?

And who had pulled the trigger?

Katie had grown up in a drafty old house. Like Scarlett O’Hara vowing never to be hungry again, she’d vowed never to be cold again. After another sweltering night in the sauna disguised as her apartment, she’d be pleased to eat those words. How she longed to wear a skin of gooseflesh instead of a constant sheen of perspiration. Thank goodness the apartment’s plumbing was in better shape than its electrical system. She was getting her money’s worth out of the rain showerhead she’d had put in.

She knew from experience that if she didn’t get to Artisans Alley early and crank up the old air-conditioning, the strain from the midday heat would kill the thing. It was practically on life support as it was. Sadly, the old building was just too big for the unit the former owner/manager, Ezra Hilton, had installed. And he must have had a shortage of funds when it came to adding the ductwork, too. Some parts of the old applesauce warehouse were cold as a freezer, while others were warm enough to bake bread—or at least several of the vendors had described it that way.

Worse yet, Katie’s office was one of the areas that hadn’t been graced with ductwork. She relied on a junky old fan under her desk to keep her from melting into a puddle on the floor. Funny how the disgruntled vendors didn’t notice that when they came to her to complain about the temperatures in their booths.

The doors to the Alley had been opened for vendor setup for less than five minutes when Katie’s favorite vendor arrived for the day, appearing at her open door with a clipboard in hand.

“I was so upset when I heard the news about the fire at Wood U. Have they identified the body yet?” Rose Nash asked before she even said good morning. Thanks to the extended period of dry weather, the elderly woman hadn’t worn her signature plastic headscarf for months.

Katie shook her head. “There’s supposed to be a news conference later today. I suppose someone in authority will make the announcement then.”

Rose shook her head. “Do you think it’s Dennis?”

“As far as I know, no one has seen him since he closed the shop yesterday evening, so there’s a strong possibility.”

Rose shook her head again and frowned. “What will the Merchants Association do?”

Katie shrugged. “Send flowers to his widow. That’s about all we
can
do.”

A loud rap on the door frame caused both women to turn. “Katie, you’ve got to do
something
about the air-conditioning! It’s stifling hot up in the loft.”

Katie sighed. She’d known
that
was coming—and had guessed right about who would be the first to complain that day. Godfrey Foster had been a thorn in her side since she’d rented a booth to him some two months before. The overweight, fussy, nervous barrel of a man always seemed to be wringing his hands and sweating, even when the temperature wasn’t in the nineties as it already was that day. Rings of perspiration darkened the underarms of the green golf
shirt that clung to his padded torso, and his forehead was beaded with sweat. And his so-called “art” really pushed the limit of the term. Faux renditions of the masters’ classic paintings made with—of all things—colored dryer lint.

He wasn’t finished complaining. “I’m surprised our customers that actually make it up the stairs aren’t fainting in droves. You might want to put the fire-rescue number on speed dial just in case.”

Not only was Godfrey standing in the vendors’ lounge, but so was Ida-with-the-giant-wart-on-her-face Mitchell. Ida was the Alley’s most eccentric vendor and took care of the Alley’s tag room, taping down the vendors’ sales tags so they could compare them with their printed inventory of sales they received with their checks on Tuesdays. She didn’t seem to be doing anything—just standing there, which wasn’t unusual. When she wasn’t fussing over the sales tags, she could often be found just standing around, staring into space.

Katie turned her attention directly to Godfrey. “I’m sorry, but the repairman was here on Friday.”

“Well, he didn’t fix it.”

“And he can’t. The simple truth is the building is far too big for the unit we’ve got and there’s no more money in the budget to add another unit—at least not this season.”

Godfrey planted his hands on his hips. “Why not?”

Katie sighed. She was surprised he didn’t stamp his foot, too. And how many times did she have to remind the vendors that she was keeping the place open under dire financial duress?

“Oh, don’t be such a bore, Godfrey,” Rose chided. “Unless you’ve got ten grand to sink into the HVAC, just shut up.”

Katie, Godfrey, and Ida were all startled by Rose’s outburst, although Katie was also secretly pleased. She’d been dying to tell Godfrey off for the past eight weeks.

Godfrey stood there with his mouth open, breathing in
short, appalled breaths. Finally he closed it and glared at Katie. “Are you going to let this old woman speak to me like that?” he demanded.

“Rose,” Katie said with a bit of a scolding lilt, although it was difficult to keep a smile from creeping onto her lips. Rose was starting to sound a lot like her best friend, Edie Silver.

“I’m not that much older than you, Godfrey, so watch your mouth,” Rose retorted.

Godfrey’s mouth dropped open again, and he stood there for a good ten seconds before Rose started in on him once more. She consulted her clipboard. “I see you’ve signed up to come to the holiday party on Saturday night, but you neglected to add what you were bringing.”

“Bringing?” Godfrey asked.

“It
is
a potluck dinner. Everyone who comes has to bring something.”

“I can’t cook,” Godfrey said, appalled.

“Does your wife cook?” Rose pressed.

“Yes, but she’s out of town.”

Rose consulted her list again. “Then how about napkins? No one has signed up to bring napkins.”

“I—I—”

“Napkins it is,” Rose said, marking it down.

Godfrey didn’t say anything more. Instead, he turned and stalked off.

Ida remained standing in the vendors’ lounge, her expression still rather startled. “Can I help you with anything, Ida?” Katie asked rather pointedly. Ida was not her favorite vendor.

Ida shook her head, pivoted, and scurried away—ratlike.

Katie turned back to Rose.

“Sorry about blowing up at Godfrey like that, Katie. But that man never stops complaining,” Rose said. “And we
do
need napkins for the potluck.”

“I must admit I’ve almost lost my temper with him on a
number of occasions. There always seems to be one or two vendors who refuse to be placated.”

“I’m as sorry as he is to hear that the air-conditioning problem can’t be easily solved,” Rose said and sighed.

“No more than me. It’s as hot as hell in my office. Between here and my apartment, I’m going to have to start buying antiperspirant by the case.”

“Just wait a few years until you start having hot flashes,” Rose warned.

“
Many
years from now, I hope.”

“While you’re back here cooking, it’s so cold up front I have to wear a sweater when I’m working on the register. But at least it’s easier to wear more clothes than to feel like you need to peel some off,” Rose said. “Can’t they do something about the ductwork? Rearrange it or something to disperse the cool air?”

Katie shook her head. “Not without that ten-plus grand you just mentioned. But I’m putting it on the top of my wish list for the Alley.”

Rose nodded. “While you do that, I’ll put the coffee on. Those of us working in arctic conditions will appreciate it. Can I bring you some?”

“I’m going to pour myself a big glass of cold water,” Katie said, and hoped that the ice trays in the vendors’ lounge refrigerator were still full.

Rose nodded. “I’ve got my work cut out for me today. I’m going to try to track down the rest of the slackers on my list and finalize the menu for the potluck. I’ll get back to you on that later today. And Edie said she’d talk to you about the logistics, too.”

“Great. I haven’t seen her in at least a week. Where’s she been hiding?”

“She’s had family stuff to contend with. She’ll be in either tomorrow or the next day. Oh, and she’s worried about the weather on Saturday.”

“So am I. If this heat wave doesn’t break, we may have to cram everyone into the lobby instead of holding the picnic outside.”

“At least the lobby’s cool.”

“But it won’t be if we have to squeeze in sixty or eighty people.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Rose shrugged. “I’ll get the coffee going and then I need to get moving on my list before customers start arriving.” She gave Katie a nod and headed for the coffeemaker.

Since Katie had left herself a long to-do list the day before, she figured she had better get started, too. She found that if she didn’t make a list, tasks that needed to be completed were seldom addressed, thanks to the many distractions and interruptions she constantly contended with…such as Godfrey’s visit.

She read through the items and had begun to prioritize the tasks when she became aware of another’s presence. She looked up to find Detective Ray Davenport standing in her doorway.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you—especially this early in the morning—and on a Sunday, too,” Katie said. The detective had worked on two homicide cases in McKinlay Mill since Katie had taken over as manager of Artisans Alley. That she’d been involved on both occasions hadn’t endeared her to the detective. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked.

The detective offered a toothy grin that gave Katie the willies. “I was hoping we could talk about the murder on the Square last night. As the head of the Merchants Association, I thought you might have some insights that could help me with my investigation.”

Katie blinked. A smile and now he was being…dare she even think it: nice! And he was asking for
her
opinions. That was a first.

“I’d be happy to help in any way I can, Detective. She gestured to her solitary guest chair. “Come in and sit down. Would you like a cup of coffee? It should be ready by now.”

“That sounds nice,” he said, taking the chair.

Katie stood. “How do you like it?”

“Just cream, milk, whitener—whatever you’ve got on hand.”

She nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

Katie found a clean cup hanging on the rack, poured the coffee, and was doctoring it when Rose reentered the vendors’ lounge to grab a cup for herself. She nodded toward Davenport, who seemed to be inspecting the ceiling in Katie’s office. “What’s he doing here?” she hissed.

“He wants me to help him with his case.”

Rose blinked in astonishment. Davenport hadn’t seemed eager to welcome Rose’s or Katie’s help when Rose’s niece’s remains had been discovered several months before. “Is he feeling all right?” She looked around Katie to stare at the detective. Davenport smiled and wiggled his fingers in a wave.

Rose quickly straightened, her mouth hanging open in surprise. Katie wondered if her own expression mirrored Rose’s. Then Rose seemed to shake herself. “Do you think he could have had a ministroke or something? Maybe we should call an ambulance.”

“I’ll get to the bottom of all this niceness,” Katie said, then finished stirring the detective’s coffee, set the spoon down on the counter, and started back for her office.

Katie handed Davenport the cup, and turned to close her office door. She turned on the fan under her desk and set it on low so they could still hear each other speak. “Sorry it’s so hot in here, but our AC is on the fritz. Or rather, it never seems to filter through to my office, but I figured you probably wouldn’t want any of the vendors to overhear our conversation.”

“Thank you.”

There he was being
nice
again. It seemed so out of character.

He took a sip of his coffee and sobered. “Before we get started, I wanted to let you know that this will be my last official case for the Sheriff’s Office. I’m due to retire at the end of the week.”

“Oh.” Well, that explained it. “Congratulations. How many years have you been a deputy?”

“Thirty.”

Ten years longer than she’d thought. “What will you do next?”

He smiled again, showing his rather yellow teeth. “A little of this, a little of that. I’m only sorry that my wife isn’t here to enjoy the next few years with me. We’d made plans, and…well, in her honor, I’m going to carry on with them. My girls want that for me, too.”

Ah, yes. Hadn’t Deputy Schuler once told Katie the detective had daughters?

“That’s great. I’m sure your wife would be pleased.”

He nodded and looked away, misty-eyed. Katie fought the urge to touch his arm. They weren’t really friends, but it was obvious he wasn’t over the loss, and once again she felt a pang of regret at losing Chad. They came at such odd moments and she wondered if she’d ever really get used to it.