Paint the Town Dead (11 page)

“We can search for her on the Internet, too,” Aster said. “Eleanor and I have been getting lessons in computer research from Jasmine.”

“Great, and I have a search task for you,” I said, Kim's sister-in-law popping to mind again. “Look up Kim's last set of in-laws. D.B. Thomason was the husband's name. Look in Louisiana. The Shreveport area.”

“We're on it,” Aster said, she and Eleanor beaming.

“Time to move out, Nixy,” Maise commanded. “Go see Eric and hurry back. Sandy Brown will be here in forty minutes for her Crafting for July Fourth demonstration, and that group of Scouts is coming back for it. We'll need all hands on deck.”

*   *   *

The Lilyvale police station was only two and a half blocks from the emporium. I needed the exercise and decided Amber and T.C. could use the walk, too. And yes, I figured seeing the critters might soften the good detective.

Turned out that only service animals were allowed in the station, so I told the young black officer at the desk, Taylor Benton, that I had information vital to the murder case. Within minutes, Eric met me in the parking lot behind the
building. Circles under his eyes betrayed his exhaustion, and though he gave our furry friends attention, he didn't look all that happy to see me.

“What's up, Nixy?”

“Doralee told us you questioned her about an awl.”

His mouth tightened, and I held up a hand.

“I'm not going to ask you about it. I just want to tell you that Doralee had an awl on Friday afternoon for the demonstration she did with Aunt Sherry. Afterward, when she and Zach were packing up, the awl was missing.”

“Did you actually see the awl yourself?”

Uh-oh. I didn't want to lie, but I only saw Doralee's tools in passing. I compromised.

“I know the awl was in a kit with her other tools, and every tool was in its own molded slot thingy when Doralee and Sherry started the presentation.”

“But you didn't see the awl yourself.”

“Not so I could say, ‘Aha! There's Doralee's awl.'”

He quirked a brow. “Aha?”

“Will you please listen to my part two of this?”

“Proceed.”

“On Saturday we had another incident. One of Eleanor's tools went missing after her demo. Doralee wasn't at the store that day. We searched the store for the awl on Friday, and for both tools on Saturday, but they didn't turn up.”

“What about the feed on your security cameras?”

I flushed. “I didn't remember we had them until Saturday, and unfortunately, there's a big honking blind spot where we set up the demo tables.”

“Do you think a customer swiped the tools?”

“Since we've thoroughly searched, it's a darn strong possibility.”

“Okay, I'll keep this information in mind.”

“Great. Aren't you going to ask what Eleanor's tool looked like?”

“Why should I?”

“No reason if you've determined the awl was the murder weapon.”

He blinked. “I didn't say that.”

“Nope, and I won't repeat it, but something is bothering me.”

“I thought you weren't investigating.”

“I'm not. Not exactly. I'm collecting information to keep the Silver Six happy. If I think something is important, I'll come to you. But here's the thing,” I rushed on. “I saw the blood pooling around Kim's torso. If she was shot, and if the shooter didn't use a silencer—”

“Suppressor.”

“Okay, suppressor. Anyway, wouldn't Georgine have heard the shots? Are her migraine meds so strong that they'd knock her into oblivion?”

I paused, but Shoar held his passive expression. Which didn't deter me.

“If Kim was stabbed, wouldn't the killer be covered with enough blood to leave a trail?”

Again, I got the stone face.

“Can you at least acknowledge my logic?”

His eyes softened. “I acknowledge your logic, but I'm not discussing the details of the case.”

“Fine. I have a couple more questions, and I don't see why you can't answer them.”

He huffed a breath. “Okay, shoot.”

“First, who is the witness that saw Doralee in the square?”

“I'm not saying.”

“Did you remember to ask Doralee about Kim's former in-laws?”

“Gee, no, Nixy. I had more pertinent, pressing questions.”

“Sarcasm, Eric?” And a taste of my own medicine. No wonder Fred had called me on my snarkiness earlier. “You're under the gun on this thing, aren't you?”

“Having two deaths in two months isn't making the chief or anyone else happy.”

“Understood, but about the in-laws—”

He raised his hand in the universal sign for stop, eyes narrowed. “Tell me why I should question Ms. Gordon about Ms. Thomason's in-laws.”

“I told you last night after you talked with Doralee. She told me Kim's sister-in-law, Margot, attempted to run Kim down with a golf cart.”

He blinked. “All right, give me the scoop.”

I relayed only what Doralee had reported to me, not embellishing the story, or making suppositions. Much.

“This is gossip, pure and simple. You know that. Ms. Gordon had the story from a friend, and the friend didn't witness the incident. This is probably fifth-hand information at best.”

I tapped my foot. “Gossip or not, it could be true. You could check it out.”

He only said, “What's your second question?”

“What is Kim's brother's name? I overheard Ernie tell you last night, but I'm drawing a blank.”

“Caleb Collier. Why?”

“The seniors want to know. Is Caleb in town yet, or is he coming?”

“Are the Six planning a condolence call, or is this part of your information collecting?”

“A condolence call might be in order, but mostly they're curious.”

“They're gossiping.”

“Let's call it a desire to be in the know.”

“No comment,” he said, but a smile played on his mouth. He did have a soft spot for the Silver Six.

“You're no fun.”

“Nixy,” he drawled as he stepped closer and leaned toward me, “you have no clue how much fun I can be. I haven't had the chance to show you. Yet.”

I nearly swallowed my tongue. Wow. He certainly knew how to change the subject.

“I've got to get back inside for another round of interviews,” he said, putting space between us again. I realized that I had been holding my breath.

“That is unless you have more insights for me,” he added. “What did you tell Officer Benton to get me out here? Information vital to the case?”

“It worked, didn't it?” He shook his head. “Good luck this afternoon. I'll let you know if I stumble over anything new.”

On the walk back, I realized my dear detective hadn't told me a thing about this Caleb Collier except his name. At least I had that before Eric suddenly and blatantly flirted with me. Dang, the man was good at distraction. And I lapped it up.

And okay, I readily admitted I was curious about the murder. A perfectly natural response to finding the body, right? I also conceded that I didn't want to see Doralee accused of said murder. As for me truly investigating? No. I flat didn't have time much less the expertise. I could ask a few questions, and would let Eric know if I learned anything important. Between managing the emporium so we'd make a profit and being a novice foster pet mom, I had my hands full. I didn't need or want a distraction.

I would, however, give Aster and Eleanor the name “Caleb Collier” to help them research Kim. Maybe they'd find her first husband with the extra information. Maybe they'd find a whole list of suspects we could turn over to Shoar.

*   *   *

Sandy Brown's presentation on crafts to celebrate the Fourth of July was a hands-on mini-nightmare, but it could've been worse. It could've put red and blue paint into the hands of four-year-olds.

None of us realized that Sandy meant to bring supplies for both adult and children's craft projects. None of us expected so many tykes to come in with their parents. None
of us thought to have card tables in the store at all times and ready to snag just in case this sort of thing cropped up.

None of us would ever forget it again.

Perhaps I should've reconsidered all the free programs.

Aster was quick to whip out her lavender spray, and it all worked out in the end. The audience was game to sit on the floor or kneel at the old metal folding chairs while they crafted in a patriotic theme. The young 'uns, as Sandy called them, decorated empty and scrubbed-clean plastic mayonnaise jars with star stickers and ribbon in red, white, and blue. Somehow, a group of Boy Scouts had already painted jars in the requisite colors and began making small door wreaths out of embroidery hoops, ribbon, and wooden clothes pins. That's when I realized that Sandy had jump-started their project, and must be in cahoots with the Scout master. Scout mistress?

The adults helped the children, but most had time for their own projects, decorating blue, white, or red plastic buckets with coordinating precut foam stars. Sandy emphasized that the day's activities were chosen for their simplicity with relatively few supplies required. The crafts could take as little or as much time as one liked, were great for entertaining guests of varied ages, and could be adapted for any season or party theme.

She plugged the dollar store as her source of supplies more than once, but she also plugged the emporium's wares to the adults. Some who hadn't brought children stayed to browse and shop, and I was grateful.

When the customers left, the entire emporium staff jumped in to clean. Dab, Jasmine, and I wiped off the table and metal chairs, folded them, and stored them in the workroom. I'd given thought to leaving the chairs out so we didn't have to rearrange them each day, but I didn't want the store space to be more overcrowded than it already was. I sure didn't want to risk a customer tripping, but with all the setting up and taking down, I might change my mind and simply leave the chairs in neat rows.

With the center of the store cleared, Aster and Maise swept and lightly mopped the floor while Jasmine and Sherry went over the day's sales receipts and Eleanor then put the deposit money in a bag. We must've done much better than I thought because the bag looked pleasantly plump.

Just before closing, I realized I'd forgotten to call our security camera guy, Greg Masters. Ah, well. I'd do it tomorrow. Of course, as soon as we installed another camera, we'd never be in a position to need it again. Fortunately, Aunt Sissy had left money that had been very wisely invested over the years. I don't know if it was in a formal trust fund, but we'd already used some of that money for the security system and to buy a few boatloads of paint to spiff up the building in and out. Sherry was still insisting that I stay in my apartment rent-free, and that my utilities come out of Sissy's trust
,
which Sherry managed. For now, I went along with her wishes, but I didn't want to deplete those monies that were used for things like upkeep to the family cemetery. The monetary padding was great, but I didn't want to be dependent on it or Sherry. It was a driving reason I was determined to see the emporium thrive.

I shooed Jasmine and the Silver Six off. I'd see the seniors shortly for dinner at the farmhouse, but first I needed to feed Amber and T.C., and put my feet up for a few minutes.

As I crossed the sales floor to flip the deadbolt, Ernie Boudreaux burst through the front door like a rampaging bull. He snorted and stomped his way straight to me.

“I'm suing you for slander, Ms. Nix. I'm taking you for everything you're worth.”

After a stunned second, I did something I'd never imagined doing. I jabbed my index finger into Ernie's polo-shirted chest.

“Back off, Mr. Boudreaux,” I snapped. “Threaten me again, and I'll call the police. Got it?”

He backed up.

“Now, you can tell me what's wrong in a calm, civilized manner, or you can hit the road. I don't care which you choose.”

It had been a long day.

He growled, alternately clenching and unclenching his fists. Meanwhile, I noticed Georgine standing just inside the store, eyes huge, face pale. Her pastel-striped blouse was buttoned to her chin, and her short salt-and-pepper hair stuck up as if she'd repeatedly pulled on it. She'd twisted a white handkerchief into a soggy knot. Today she didn't look angry or sour. She looked ill and scared.

I put my focus back on Ernie. “All right, what is your problem?”

“You're the problem,” he snarled. “You've caused extreme mental duress to both me and my sister.”

“How did I manage that?”

“You told Detective Shoar that Kim was obsessed with Doralee's opal. He thinks that's why Kim was in Doralee's room.”

“Why else would she have been there?”

He gave me a blistering glare. “What do you mean?”

“If Kim wasn't looking for the gemstone, why did she ransack Doralee's room?”

“There's no proof she did. She could've interrupted a thief. Why, the thief might've searched our suite next.”

“You honestly think a random thief got into a secure building, into a locked guest room, and then killed Kim when she caught him? If it was a thief, why not steal her diamond ring?”

He blustered, “Well—she, well—but.” Then his shoulders sagged.

Georgine abandoned her distressed damsel pose, hurried to pat Ernie's shoulder, and stood by his side. I almost suggested sitting in the workroom to talk, but I didn't want them sticking around. I'd make my point, maybe gather information to help Doralee, and usher the Bourdreauxs out the door for good.

“Listen, Mr. Boudreaux, I overheard Kim nag you about that gem. I heard you be short with her over her nagging. I told Detective Shoar that Kim might've been looking for the opal, not that she definitely was.”

“Any idiot would know Doralee wouldn't travel with that thing. It was too valuable.”

“How valuable?”

He huffed. “It's a unique stone, but I haven't researched how much it's worth.”

“Did you straight up tell Kim that Doralee didn't have the black opal with her?”

“Yes, of course.” He paused, frowned, glanced at Georgine as if seeking her input. Then he returned his attention to me. “I know I was clear about it. Kim traveled with her good jewelry, but Doralee didn't. I told Kim that. The point is, you should have kept your opinions to yourself.”

“I found your fiancée dead,” I said baldly, hoping to break through his self-absorption. “I'm a witness, and I'm not about to apologize for cooperating with the police.”

“I didn't kill her!” he bellowed.

“Then why does Detective Shoar think you did?”

“Only because my car was in the parking lot but I wasn't upstairs.”

“Tell me what happened after I broke up Kim's rant at the lawn party. I might be able to help you.”

Georgine gasped and stepped forward protectively. “You don't have to explain yourself to this woman, Ernie.”

“You're right, Georgine,” I said.

“That's Miss Boudreaux to you,” she sniffed.

“Your brother doesn't have to explain a thing to me. Only to the police.”

Amber suddenly bayed an
aroo
in the workroom. Agreeing with me, or just reminding me she and T.C. needed attention?

“Mr. Boudreaux, Ernie, tell me what you did or don't. It is past closing time, and I have things to do.”

He frowned. “What did you say about helping me? You know the detective personally, don't you?”

“She's probably sleeping with him,” Georgine sneered.

I pointed at the door. “Get out now.”

“No, wait.” Ernie threw a hand up, paced away, then back. “Yes, I was angry that Kim cornered Doralee at the party about the damned opal. After you steered Doralee away, Kim wanted to come back to the inn. I dropped her off, and headed back to the party to find Doralee and apologize.”

“Did you drop Kim in front at the café door or at the back entrance?”

“The back.”

“Did you watch her go inside?”

“No, I drove on out of the alley.”

“Did you see anyone else outside?” When he shook his head, I plowed on. Hey, I was on a roll on this interviewing thing. “Did you stop anywhere on the way back?”

“I—” His gaze faltered, slid to Georgine again before he stood taller. “I stopped at a convenience store for a pack of cigarettes.”

Georgine's mouth tightened, and Ernie waved a hand at her.

“I have quit,” he said, “for the most part. I just needed half a smoke to calm down.”

“Then what?”

“I was headed back to the party and saw Doralee, uh, walking.”

Uh-oh. I could tell from his chagrined expression that he hadn't meant to let that slip. “Walking where?”

“About half between the square and your aunt's farmhouse. I gave her a lift back.”

The distance between Sherry's place and the square was roughly a mile. “Did you tell Shoar you saw Doralee near the square?”

Ernie straightened, lifted his chin. “I did not. There was no point in bringing it to his attention. It was an innocent encounter between us, and she certainly would
not
have killed my fiancée.”

Hmm. Interesting that Ernie was protecting Doralee. I pressed on with questions while he was in an answering mood—and before Georgine interfered.

“So you took Doralee back to the party. When did you leave again?”

His shoulders slumped. “I don't know. Near four o'clock?
I wasn't ready to talk to Kim yet, so I left my car in the parking lot and took a long walk.”

“Did you tell Shoar where you went?”

“I didn't
go
anywhere. I passed the hospital, the laundromat, a couple of closed stores. I didn't talk to a soul.”

“Which doesn't mean someone didn't see you. The detective will ask around.” If a citizen had reported seeing Doralee, someone should've seen Ernie.

“How hard will he look when he thinks I killed Kim? I sat in that little gazebo by the courthouse for close to an hour, and I shouldn't have.”

“Why did you?” I couldn't help but ask.

“I wanted more time alone. I knew I'd have to take her out for dinner, but I dreaded dealing with another of her tantrums.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Georgine huffed.

“Yet if I'd gone back, Kim might be alive now,” he said helplessly. I could see that under his anger was true, deep sadness.

I half expected Georgine to say something snide, but she only set her mouth in a tight line.

“Will you talk to the detective for me, Ms. Nix?”

“I'll do what I can, but you should know that Detective Shoar is an honest, fair, careful investigator. He's interested in the truth, not merely making an arrest.”

“I hope so because I don't know how I'll get out of this.”

“I won't let anything happen to you.” Georgine shot me a fierce glare as she gripped her brother's arm. “I never do.”

*   *   *

I wanted to immediately track down Doralee and ask some pointed questions about leaving the party on Sunday and where she'd gone. Not to mention what had passed between her and Ernie. Heck, for all I knew, Doralee and Ernie had conspired to kill Kim.

Yes, that theory was a stretch about as wide as Arkansas
and halfway through Oklahoma. Still, I'd have to talk with Doralee at some point. I wasn't about to take potentially damning information about her to Eric without checking it out first.

Interesting that Doralee thought she was Eric's main suspect, and Ernie thought he was the one in Eric's sights. It made sense that my dear detective was looking at both the fiancé and the ex-wife, though.

I'd mull on that more later. For now I needed to keep my dinner date with the Silver Six.

The farmhouse dining room took up nearly a fourth of Sherry's downstairs. Early evening light spilled through large windows, two facing west and two south, making the old farm table's age-darkened patina glow with warmth. The west windows looked onto the deep front porch while the south windows featured a view of the narrower side porch, a peek at Aster's garden, the big oak tree, and the yard beyond.

I overlooked the fact that Fred and Dab allowed T.C. and Amber to scoot under the table, probably conspiring to get their paws on more contraband people food. Instead I moved the candlesticks and decorative bowls, one of them filled with lavender, to the long sideboard and finished setting the table.

Maise, Aster, Sherry, and Eleanor bustled through the swinging door from the kitchen carrying bowls and platters. I could make a meal of Maise's famous fried okra alone, but tonight's menu included pork loin, cauliflower, and a tossed salad. Oh, and sweet tea. What else?

“I sure wish we'd been in the store when Ernie and Georgine came by,” Sherry Mae said as we all began passing the serving dishes around the table.

Yes, I'd filled them in on the highlights of why I'd run late for dinner.

“Busted in, you mean,” Fred growled from his seat on my right. “Man's got no manners a'tall.”

“I'm simply relieved he didn't have more mischief on his
mind,” Maise declared. “Do you think we need to keep a weapon of some kind in the store for protection?”

“No,” I nearly shouted as I rose halfway out of my designated chair at the foot of the table.

Six pairs of eyes regarded me as if I'd lost my tiny mind. Maybe I had because what leaped to memory was that Fred owned a Colt .45. Though he could fix about anything on the planet, I didn't know when he'd last cleaned that pistol, or if it even fired. I sure didn't want to find out by having it in the emporium.

“What's wrong with keeping a little insurance policy handy?” Maise demanded.

“We have Jasmine there,” I said, striving for calm. “Young children coming in, too. And we might need a permit to keep a weapon on a business premise.”

“Not for a baseball bat,” Dab offered reasonably.

“No,” I ground out. “No bats. No weapons of any kind.”

Sherry gave me a speculative stare. “I suppose it wouldn't hurt for you to have something like pepper spray, child. After all, you're walking the animals at night. However, I agree we don't need a weapon in the store. Besides, Detective Shoar will solve this case in no time flat, Doralee will be cleared of suspicion, and it'll be business as usual.”

From her seat on my left, Eleanor gave my hands a pointed look. Hands I realized were trembling slightly. She arched a brow. “I do believe Ernie Boudreaux unnerved you more than you want to admit.”

“Which isn't surprising, I suppose,” Aster added, “since he's still our number one suspect.”

“Did you uncover anything about him or Kim?” I asked, happy to redirect the conversation. “Did you have time to visit with any of the merchants today?”

“With most of them,” Sherry said proudly. “Kim visited the shoe store and tried on twenty pairs of sandals without buying a one. Twenty pairs. Brooke was annoyed.”

“And she went to both the clothing stores on the square,
and the beauty supply,” Aster added. “She bought a red blouse at Clarra's Closet and red nail polish, both on Friday afternoon.”

“Ernie and Georgine weren't with her during any of these shopping expeditions,” Maise put in, “but Miss Anna and Hope both said all three were in the pharmacy on Saturday. She didn't recall what they bought. Dab, you went to Virginia's. What did you find out?”

I'd been in our upscale jewelry store, and could see why Kim would be drawn there. They carried exquisite—and expensive—pieces. Too pricey for my pocketbook, as Sherry would say.

“Virginia Hale wasn't there, but I talked to Pearce. Kim was definitely in there, and without Ernie. She pulled the shoe store stunt. She tried on rings, bracelets, and necklaces. She also looked at men's watches she told Pearce were for her fiancé, but didn't buy anything.”

“I doubt what she bought or didn't is critical to the case,” I said, “but it's good information. What about your computer searches? Anything there?”

“Disappointingly little,” Eleanor said. “He has a business website called
The Gourdian Knot
. There's only a short bio, a list of the fairs and festivals where he sets up, and a lot of photos of his birdhouse gourds.”

I patted Eleanor's arm. “I know he was your front runner, but let's face it. He couldn't be that bad if Doralee married him.”