Paint the Town Dead (17 page)

Dab took our pets out back to see the show, sure that they'd behave and that the visiting animals wouldn't have a problem with two more. I stood at the back door just in case, but he was correct. Amber stayed on her leash, of course, and T.C. in her harness, but they blended right in and garnered attention of their own.

Back inside, I met the county extension ladies when they
came in the store to set up. Both women wore jeans, tennis shoes, and white-collared shirts with the Hendrix County logo embroidered over the left breast. Robin Cooper's dark blonde hair curled around her face, her blue eyes twinkling as if she knew a secret. The secret of getting me to approve the petting zoo, I bet.

Jerri Yarrow specialized in family and consumer-oriented programs. She was about my height of five foot three, but she looked tiny. With hazel eyes and a gentle smile, she projected a calm I figured she'd need later during the smoothie tasting.

Fred ran a grounded extension cord from the kitchenette to the demonstration tables, then plugged in a power strip with enough outlets for all the blenders. After he duct-taped the cords to the floor to mitigate a tripping hazard, he went back to his workshop.

Dab ducked in a few minutes later to ask me to come outside, so the ladies helped our guest speakers get the rest of their supplies ready to roll.

“What's up, Dab?” I asked when I found him near the miniature horse's corral.

“Cindy Price wants to get pictures of you,” he said, pointing to the
Lilyvale Legend
reporter-photographer snapping photos of toddlers holding rabbits.

She'd done a great job covering our first grand opening day, but I shook my head. “She should be shooting Cliff and the teens.”

“Already has. She also got photos of all of us last week. Even Fred. She never got you, so go get your little piece of the limelight.”

Good thing I'd worn makeup today. I took my ponytail down and fluffed my brown hair as I approached Cindy.

“Nixy,” she said, beaming. “I need several shots, so let's start right here.”

She took pictures of me with Cliff, me with the teens, and then me with several children who looked worn out and
on the verge of whiny. I hoped they got a second wind when they went inside the store. Maybe the smoothies would perk them up.

The last shot Cindy insisted on was with my arm draped over the beautiful miniature palomino, and then she set me free. Since it was nearly noon, I moved from group to group reminding them the smoothies would be served shortly. I figured that was a bigger draw than the nutrition program, even for the moms.

As I turned to go back inside, I spotted a woman hovering on the sidewalk at the edge of the parking lot. Dressed in a pink skirt suit and pumps, she had blonde hair. Holy helmet hair! Kim's ex-sister-in-law. It had to be. Every instinct confirmed I was right, and screamed for me to seize my chance to meet and question her.

Can a body stride stealthily? If so, I did, hustling through the crowd to come up behind her.

“Margot Vail, I presume?”

I expected her to whirl around. To be at least a little bit startled. That would have been a normal reaction, right?

Instead, the woman squared her shoulders and stood tall enough to look down her straight nose at me when she turned. She held a designer handbag, but wasn't hiding behind sunglasses today. Cold gray eyes met mine.

“I want the ring.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I said I want the ring.” She spoke with such command, I expected her to hold out her hand so I could drop it in her palm. “I will not press charges if you turn it over without a fuss.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You
are
the person who found the body of my now delightfully dead sister-in-law.”

It wasn't a question, so she knew of me somehow. “I was with someone else when we discovered Kim, but yes.”

“Of course. The gourd artist.”

Even in her cultured Southern accent, she made “gourd artist” sound like “petting zoo poop
.
” However, that confirmed she knew of Doralee, too. How? The newspaper hadn't identified us as the citizens who stumbled upon Kim's body, so Margot had to have heard town gossip. Which meant she must've been drifting around here for days.

“Listen, Miss Whatever—”

“Nix,” I interrupted. “It's Ms. Nix.”

“You may address me as Mrs. Vail. Now, I no longer care that you took the ring as long as you return it. Today. Otherwise, I shall press charges.”

“Hold it,” I said, my temper rising. “You think we took something from the room where Kim died? That's obscene.”

Margot shrugged. “It happens.”

“Since when? Did you forget to take it yourself when you murdered Kim?”

She sniffed. “I did nothing of the sort. I met with her, but I would never be so crass as to kill her.”

“So you had your nephew do it? Where is he, by the way?”

She gave me a pitying shake of her head. One that didn't jostle a single hair on her head. “Turn over the ring, Ms. Nix.”

“The opal?”

She blinked at me, the tiniest bit of uncertainty in her cold eyes. “What opal?”

“The opal that Kim wanted, but it's not set in a ring. It's a loose stone. Isn't that what you're talking about?”

“I am referring,” she enunciated slowly, “to the Thomason family engagement ring. An old mine cut solitaire diamond in a gold setting. It is a priceless heirloom, and I want it back.”

She said the last bit with enough implied threat to make me shudder. I wasn't sure she'd soil her hands to commit a crime, but I wouldn't put much else past her. Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw the nephew, Dennis. He emerged from the men's clothing store across the street, then strode
to a silver Audi parked at the curb. I'd seen that car on the night Kim was killed.

“You said you met with Kim. When did you last see her?”

Margot waved a hand. “Oh, I believe it was on Saturday.”

“Not on Sunday?”

“No, and I am not interested in answering your questions.”

“That's too bad. The detective on the case will love knowing you were seen behind the Inn on the Square on Sunday.”

Her gaze never wavered, even as she released the latch on her handbag. “You are mistaken.”

“I think not. You were driving the Audi that rocketed out of the parking lot that evening. You almost hit me head-on.”

“Which is apropos of nothing. Now, Ms. Nix, have we come to an agreement?”

“Not by a long shot, lady.” Yes, it was rude, but Sherry wasn't here to censor me. “Why are you suddenly asking me about this ring? It's been days since Kim was killed.”

She shot me a superior smirk. “I had planned to speak to you in your little store, but in this case, you accosted me. I am merely taking advantage of the opportunity, as I always do.”

“But why on earth accuse me of theft?”

She narrowed those gray eyes. “That backwoods detective evaded my demand to return the ring in such a way that I do not believe the police have it. For a mere shop girl, the ring would have been impossible to resist. Understandable, but nevertheless criminal.”

Little store? Shop girl?
I opened my mouth, but what could I say to this crazy lady? She didn't listen.

She glanced down, pulled a card from her purse, and extended it to me. “Contact me when you are ready to deliver my property.”

With that, she turned and crossed the street without checking for oncoming traffic. Probably used to the world stopping for her.

Not all rich folks carried a sense of entitlement, but Margot Vail toted enough for half a social registry. How humiliating to have her only brother marry a much younger woman, one she considered a gold digger and a social climber to boot. Margot had tried to kill Kim by golf cart, and now that I'd met her, it wasn't a leap to imagine she'd taken other shots at her sister-in-law over the years. And if she wanted this one ring so badly, what would she do to get back other pieces of the estate Kim had inherited?

“Remember, brightly colored fruits and veggies contain antioxidants,” Jerri told the audience of moms, teachers, and surprisingly quiet children all sipping on sample smoothies, “and here's another fun flashback to high school chemistry.”

The adults chuckled. I think a child snored.

“Blackberries and blueberries contain anthocyanins, compounds also known as flavonoids. Eating these and other blue, purple, and red-colored fruits can reduce the risk of cancer, stroke, and heart disease. Both wild and cultivated blackberries also contain vitamin C, potassium, and, of course, fiber.”

“But picking wild berries can be a thorny prospect,” Robin chimed in, “so dress accordingly. Also be aware that poison ivy can grow near wild blackberry brambles. Protect yourselves and your kiddos if you take them picking. Any questions? No? Then thank you for coming, and remember we at the county extension offices love to hear from you.”

“And,” Jerri said, “if you didn't get the handout with
nutritional facts and recipes, the extras are over on the counter.”

Women began herding children out the door, most thanking Sherry and company on the way out, and promising to come back for a leisurely look around.

I'd missed the smoothie-making portion of the program while confronting Margot. Since I could use those antioxidants, I made my way to Robin and Jerri as Maise and Aster joined them.

Robin spotted me first. “There you are! I hope you didn't have to help with any animal wrangling out back.”

I grinned. “No, the 4-H crew has the zoo covered.”

Jerri touched my arm. “We saved you a sample of smoothie. Here you are.”

She removed a small plastic cup from an ice bucket on the demo table and passed it to me. “It's better when it's right out of the blender and frothy, but it'll wet your whistle.”

The first sweet sip sold me. “Save me a handout, Aunt Sherry. I've got to try this at home.”

Maise snorted. “You'd have to buy a blender first, and you don't even have a toaster.”

“But now I have motivation,” I teased back.

“A better motive to buy appliances would be to fix a meal for Eric Shoar. The way to a man's heart and all that.”

The way to my detective's heart might be his investigation, and I needed to tell him about Margot before I got sidetracked by anything else.

*   *   *

I gave T.C. and Amber a pat, left them in Fred's company, and excited through the back to jog over to the police station. The parking lot was already animal-free, and Cliff was directing a teen to spray down the cement using the hose we kept out back. The nozzle didn't produce a power-wash jet of water, but between the scooping and rinsing, the lot looked great and didn't smell of eau d'animal.

On the way back, I'd stop to move my car to its normal slot. For now, I trotted to the police station and greeted the desk officer, young black cutie Taylor Benton.

“Hey, Ms. Nix. Do you have more information vital to the murder case?” he teased.

“Matter of fact, I might. Is he in?”

“I'll let him know you're here.”

He waved me to the few molded plastic chairs along the wall, but I didn't want to sit. I pulled Margot's card from my shorts pocket to reread it. More an old-fashioned calling card than a business card, it was hand-letter-pressed, printed with only her name and a phone number. Why go to the expense of having these made? My mother used to tell me the rich were different, and I'd known some ultra-wealthy folks in the world of art collecting, but Margot was flat weird.

“Come on back,” Officer Benton said, and I heard a buzz. “Just push the door over there, then go straight to the bull pen.”

Wow, my first time in the inner sanctum. Not that there was much to see in the short hallway aside from some wall plaques and cheaply framed group photos of Lilyvale's finest. The hall opened onto a room of seven desks and four times as many mismatched filing cabinets lining the perimeter. Rolling chairs for the officers, and stationary chairs for visitors were in orderly positions at each desk, and most of the furnishings looked less than a decade old. I spotted two restroom signs near a battered counter accessorized with a coffeemaker and a single sink. A smattering of closed doors on either side of the main area probably led to private offices, or to interview or conference rooms.

Surprisingly, Eric was the only soul in sight. “Where is everyone?”

“On patrol, on calls, and on vacation,” he said, motioning me to a metal chair in front of his uncluttered desk. One manila file folder sat at his left elbow. Closed, of course. No
chance for me to see anything but the pale yellow sticky note on the folder. I didn't have the vantage point—or the binoculars—to read the few words on it. The print was tiny.

“What's up?”

I jerked my gaze to his and sat.

“Margot Vail is delighted that her former sister-in-law is dead. I know this,” I continued as I set her card on his desk and pushed it toward him, “because I talked with her about an hour ago.”

He gave me his cop stare. “You aren't supposed to talk to suspects.”

“This time, a suspect was looking to talk to me, although according to her, I did the ‘accosting.'”

“Should I expect her to file charges?”

I huffed. “Do you want to hear the rest?”

“Might as well,” he said as he leaned back in his desk chair.

I walked him through my exchange, leaving nothing out. His expressions ranged from puzzled to amused to outraged.

“You accused her of killing Ms. Thomason?” he growled. “What were you thinking?”

“I wanted to get a reaction from her. That woman isn't just cold. She's permafrost.”

“Which doesn't make her a killer.”

“No, but she didn't deny nearly hitting me head-on on Sunday. And she drives a silver Audi.”

“I know. I pulled her registration yesterday. I also confirmed she and the nephew are staying in Magnolia.” He paused, then clasped his hands of his desk. “I can't believe I'm asking you this, but how viable a suspect do you think she is?”

My shoulders slumped. “She had motive in spades, and she was in the area on Sunday late afternoon, but I can't see her doing the deed herself.”

“And the nephew?”

“I don't get a hands-on killer vibe from him either, but what's bugging me is this ring business. Will you answer some questions if the answers won't compromise the case?”

“Try me.”

“First, are Kim's personal effects just the items she had on her, um, person when she died, or are they all her other belongings?”

“Both. Mr. Boudreaux put up token resistance to us taking everything that belonged to his fiancée, but I think he knows now it was for the best.”

I agreed. It was difficult enough cleaning out my mother's house when she died a few weeks after suffering a stroke. Packing up a murdered loved one's things had to be beyond-words wrenching.

“Okay, so you have photos and a written inventory of the stuff at the crime scene and her other things, right?”

“I do.”

“Can you look for this engagement ring Margot is so hot to have? Just see if there are two diamond rings on the property list?”

“Why?”

“After the first time you questioned Ernie, he came to the store to unload on me.”

“He what?” Eric said and came halfway out of his chair.

“I handled it,” I said as I waved him down. “The short of the story is Kim thought Doralee would have that opal lying around her room. When I asked Ernie why she'd believe that, he said Kim traveled with her good jewelry and was convinced everyone else did.”

“But isn't this elusive opal a loose stone?”

“Yes, but that distinction must've been lost on Kim. However, Kim was married to Margot's brother for nearly ten years. She'd probably know about Kim's penchant to take her jewelry on trips.”

“Which is why she accused you of swiping the ring.” He
drummed his fingers on the desk. Once. Twice. “Explain why I should look for two rings instead of one.”

“Because if there is only one ring when there should be two, Kim's killer might have stolen the other.”

He gave me a considering look and nodded. “Okay, what do these rings look like?”

“The one Ernie gave Kim had big diamonds. Super sparkly. Probably in a platinum setting. Before Ernie married Doralee, he had the family ring redone. A large square diamond was remounted and other stones were added to the setting. I can't give you an exact description but Doralee or Ernie can, I'm sure. Even Georgine.”

“Did Mrs. Vail describe her heirloom?”

“She said the setting is gold, with a solitaire diamond she called a mine cut. I don't know exactly what that means, or how different those diamonds look from any other kind.”

“I can have someone at Virginia's Jewelers evaluate anything we need examined.”

“That's good,” I said, though I planned to see what the Internet could tell me. I was too impatient to wait on him to enlighten me when I could research the question myself. “By the way, did you find out what Kim's brother drives?”

He flashed an indulgent smile. “Caleb Collier owns a late model Chevy Silverado. Dark blue.”

“With oversized tires?”

“That I don't know, but there are over a hundred dark-colored Chevy trucks registered in northwest Louisiana and southwest Arkansas. And before you ask, he isn't in town yet that I know of.”

“But didn't he make reservations at the inn starting today?”

“Yes, but Lorna let me know that he called with a change in plans. He said he probably wouldn't make it until tomorrow, but asked her to hold the room for him.”

I heaved an exasperated breath. “His sister was killed on Sunday. Doesn't it seem odd that the sole relative of a murder
victim hasn't shown up yet? It'll be four days tomorrow. Wouldn't most people at least ask about claiming the body to arrange for a service? I know and you know the body is in Little Rock, but would her brother know that?”

Eric held up a hand. “Yes, he would because I told him when I notified him of her death. I also assured him I'd call when his sister's body was released. That might be today.”

“Why didn't you tell me all this?”

“You're not a cop,” he said dryly.

“Well, still it would be more normal to show up sooner, right?”

He shook his head. “Nixy, I gave up on what's normal in these circumstances years ago. Let's change the subject. How are Amber and T.C. doing?”

I knew I wasn't getting another morsel of information from him, and had no choice but to take it in stride. “They're good. I'm getting comfortable with them, but I think Amber needs more exercise than I've been able to give her.”

“Are you planning to keep them both?”

“I guess I have to. I found out their former owner died. Didn't I tell you?”

He shook his head. “How did you learn that?”

I gave him the highlights of Ruth Kreider's Tuesday morning visit, including how wildly happy the pets had been to see her.

“I still think it's odd that this Rusty character, the grandson's friend, wouldn't simply tell me he recognized them.”

“Probably didn't want to get your hopes up in case he was wrong. Listen, you said Amber needs more activity. Will you be home tonight?”

“Um, I'm not sure,” I fumbled. “I don't usually eat with the Silver Six on Wednesdays, but I'll have to check. Why? Do you want to take the dog for a run?”

“Better. Some friends of mine are creating a dog park over by the technical college. It's not officially open yet, but I could get us in. Throw the ball around for Amber. Then take the pets home and go to Adam Daniel's for dinner?”

He named the new restaurant on the highway running north to McNeil. Not the most posh or romantic place, but then there weren't many posh dining opportunities around here. Since he'd taken me there for our official first date, I counted it as romantic enough.

I didn't do the evening-with-Eric happy dance, but I broke into a wide smile. “I'd love to have dinner after we check out the park, as long as T.C. can come, too.”

“That can be arranged. Here's another idea to exercise Amber. Have you seen Taylor Benton riding his bike? He trained his terrier to run alongside and the dog loves it. You could try that on the days you can't get to the dog park. With a basket on the bike, T.C. could cruise with you if she doesn't want to run.”

“Something to consider,” I said, not about to mention that I hadn't ridden a bike in years. And the last time I had, I'd fallen off three times in the space of four blocks.

*   *   *

It was three fifteen when I got back to the emporium. Dab's Caddy and Sherry's Camry were still parked on the street, I noticed, but there was plenty of space in the lot.