Paint the Town Dead (25 page)

She waved and went outside to wander the square and wait for her husband, and I sat at the stool behind the checkout counter and began aimlessly drawing on the pad we kept there.

My Camry, inherited from my mother, wasn't but a few years old. I still had both fobs, but I needed to dig out the second one. It had to be in one of the yet-to-be-unpacked boxes upstairs. Another reason not to simply take the boxes to a resale shop.

I realized I was sketching a key. Or what looked vaguely like a key. In spite of having a major in fine art, I couldn't draw worth spit. So said one of my teachers. I'd stuck out the program with instructors who helped me reach my goal instead of hindering me. And I found when I didn't have to produce anything recognizable, doodling relaxed me.

I stared at the doodle. Keys. Married couples had keys to each other's cars. The Silver Six had keys to one another's rides. It might be a little odd for a sister to have keys to her brother's car, but not impossible.

What if Georgine had keys to Ernie's car? He'd been parked in the lot behind the inn by around four o'clock, then went walking. If Georgine had roused from her migraine stupor and killed Kim, she'd had the means to dispose of the smock out of town. Maybe this whole migraine thing was a reaction to the stress of killing Kim, or an act to cover up what she'd done. How to prove it, though, unless Eric searched her belongings?

Wouldn't he have already done that? Of course he would, but perhaps not as thoroughly as normal. Georgine was medicated to the gills the day of the murder, and had been ill with migraines since.

The emporium's land line rang, jarring me so much I nearly knocked the cordless unit off the counter. I gathered my wits and answered.

“Handcraft Emporium, how may I help you?”

“Nixy, it's Lorna. Eric came in a few minutes ago to get a code for the back door. His truck and a police cruiser are in the parking lot. I'm not positive, mind you, but it seems to me he's about the arrest someone.”

“Do you know who?”

“Nope. Gotta go. I'm going up the inside stairs to see if I can listen at the door.”

I sat staring blindly at the phone in my hand. Georgine might have a key to Ernie's car. She might confess everything to save Ernie, but she might not.

I had an idea that just might trick the truth from her.

Or else I was losing my mind.

But my instincts were screaming I was right.

“Aster, Maise, Eleanor,” I hollered. “I have to go. Can you cover the shop?”

“Of course,” Maise said, “but where's the fire?”

“I'll tell you later,” I said, already half out the door.

Good thing I'd worn tennis shoes today. I needed them as I sprinted across the square, around the corner, and into the inn's parking lot.

I took in the scene in one sweeping glance.

Eric had Ernie in handcuffs and grasped by his arm. Office Bryant stood by a patrol car, the back door open.

Caleb Collier stood in the alley, arms at his side, hands balled up in fists. He wore an expression of disbelief and anger on his clean-shaven face.

And Georgine looked like death, not even warmed over. In cotton pajamas, the top buttoned to her chin, she trailed right behind as Eric escorted her brother toward the cruiser.

I didn't understand everything she said through her weeping and waling, but I heard her sob that Ernie didn't kill Kim.

“I did it, I tell you,” she sobbed, reaching to grab Eric's arm.

He shook her off, but stopped.

“Miss Boudreaux, you need to step away. Right now.”

“But I can't let you take him,” she blubbered. “He's innocent. I'm the one you want.”

“You want to protect your brother, and I understand that, but I don't believe you.”

“But it's true,” she said, crying harder. “It's true.”

Eric spotted me, and tipped his head toward Georgine. I took the hint, and hurried forward, ready to tell him she was telling the truth. But he needed proof right now unless he wanted to arrest Ernie for murder and her for interfering.

“Come on, now, Georgine,” I said as I put my arm around her shoulders. “You're just making this worse.”

She shook me off, jerking away so sharply that several buttons at her bust line slipped open. Not enough to be indecent, but enough for me to see the last thing I'd expected.

Kim's engagement ring hung on a chain around her neck. The big flashy ring on the same chain I'd noticed on Georgine days ago when they'd all been in Doralee's gourd class.

I didn't react, didn't let on that I'd seen a thing. She fisted the gapping sides of the top in one hand and glared.

I put my arm around her again, and this time I held on. “It will all come out right,” I said.

“It won't. It can't.”

“You'll see. Detective Shoar,” I called, propelling Georgine forward a few steps closer.

He turned. “I'm busy, Nixy.”

“I know, but will you let Ernie give his car keys to Georgine so she won't be stranded?” Hint hint.

“That's okay,” Ernie said absently. “She has her own set.”

Eric got it right away. “What did you say?”

“I said my sister has keys. She doesn't need—” He broke off, a look of horror stealing over his face.

I stepped away from Georgine. “That's how she disposed of the smock. She took your car and drove to the country.”

“No, no,” Ernie protested, twisting around to look at me. “She had a migraine. She gets her worst migraines in stormy weather. She took her medicine before Kim and I left for that party.”

“But you didn't take a full dose, did you, Georgine?” That came out of nowhere, but I went with it. “I don't know how you ended up killing Kim, but you did. And then you waited and hoped that Ernie would come back to the inn and park his car.”

“You stop that,” Ernie yelled, lunging forward. Eric and Officer Bryant easily restrained him.

I raised a brow, silently asking Eric if he wanted to take over, or if I should go on. He gave me a subtle nod of assent and encouragement.

“Your window looks over the lot. Did you see Ernie park and walk away?”

She shook her head, pulled at her short hair. “The car was there. I knew Ernie would walk in the storm. I don't like them, but he does.”

“You knew he was likely to be gone awhile. An hour or more. He probably wouldn't ever know the car was gone.”

Georgine gripped the sides of her head, and fell to her knees.

I considered the good black Capris I was wearing for all of two seconds, before I knelt beside her.

“What happened, Georgine?”

“I didn't mean to kill her.” She looked up at Ernie, pleading. “You have to believe me. It was an accident.”

“What happened?” I asked again, noticing that Officer Bryant now held Ernie's shoulder as he slumped forward as if he'd taken a body blow. Eric unobtrusively moved closer
as if he didn't want to spook Georgine or stop the flow of her confession.

“I woke up to Kim screaming and cursing. I didn't know what time it was, everything was so foggy in my head, and I was afraid she was attacking Ernie.” She gulped, gasped for breath. “I—I'd stolen Doralee's awl, and I thought I needed a weapon, so I took it with me. I was just going to defend Ernie, I swear.”

“But Ernie wasn't there in Doralee's room, was he?”

“No, it was Kim alone, raving and wrecking the room. When she saw me, she screamed ugly names at me, and pushed me down. I got up and started to leave, but she came at me again.”

“And that's when you stabbed her.”

“Yes,” she said hoarsely. “I was afraid and not thinking straight, and I stabbed her in the stomach. There was blood. Not too much but I had some on my hands. I grabbed the first thing close by. It was Doralee's smock. The one she wore in her class.”

“You wiped your hands on the smock. Anything else?”

“The awl handle.”

“Was Kim still alive then?”

“Yes. She sank down on the floor, but she was shocked that I'd fought back. She begged me to get help, and I was going to. I truly was.”

“Why didn't you call 911?”

“I knew Kim would hate me even more. She'd have me thrown in jail, and she'd turn Ernie against me. He's all I have. All I've had for a long time. I couldn't let her hurt us.”

“What did you do next?”

“I put the smock in a plastic shopping bag from the drugstore, and hid in my room until I saw Ernie park the car and walk off toward the south end of town.”

“And you got out your set of keys, raced down to the car, and drove.”

She nodded. “I went up and down side roads until I saw
a big garbage can. It was at the side of the house, but there were no cars in the driveways and no lights on. There should have been lights on. The storm was coming.”

“So you dropped your bag in the trash and came back. Your migraine must've been excruciating by then.”

“It was. I took a pill and a half, changed into my night clothes, and went to bed.” She looked up, first at me, then Eric, then Ernie. “I just meant to defend myself. You have to believe me.”

Eric moved forward, but I held up a hand.

“Georgine, you did one more thing before you went to bed. You took the engagement ring Ernie gave Kim. You're wearing it on your chain right now.”

She narrowed her eyes, her tone hard. “It was my ring. Ernie should never have had the family diamond reset. Even Doralee said so.”

“Where did you get the ring you put on Kim's finger? I know she was wearing one, Georgine. I saw it.”

Her expression suddenly shuttered. “My name is Miss Boudreaux. You need to get away from me now.”

I did. I dragged myself upright and backed a few steps away.

Eric unlocked the cuffs from Ernie's wrists, and didn't stop him when he strode to embrace his now strangely stoic sister.

“You're better off without her,” I overheard.

From the way he shook his head, Eric heard the comment, too.

We all stood in a frozen tableau. Caleb hadn't moved, but looked overwhelmed with grief and confusion. Eric and Officer Bryant gave the siblings another minute before they both pulled Georgine to her feet. Eric spoke the words that formally put her under arrest. He cuffed her, and put her in the squad car.

“You can follow us,” he told Ernie. The man looked like he'd aged ten years in the last ten minutes, but he nodded and began walking in the direction of the station before Officer Bryant put his car in gear.

Eric caught Caleb's eye. “You can leave Lilyvale when you're ready, Mr. Collier. Pick up your keys at the station.”

“What about Kim's body?”

“The medical examiner in Little Rock has released Ms. Thomason. I can give you information about making arrangements to claim her.” He paused. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

He turned, punched in his code, and went into the inn.

Eric strode to me, and took my hand. “How did you know and why didn't you come to me?”

“I only had inklings, Eric, and they weren't clear. I didn't put it all together until today. Then Lorna called to say you were over here ready to arrest someone, and it was too late to call.”

“What made you think of the dual sets of keys?”

“Mostly the Silver Six. They have keys to one another's vehicles.”

“Does Miss Boudreaux really have a diamond ring on her necklace?”

I nodded. “I saw it when her pajama top came partly undone, but I still wonder where the other ring came from. Think you can find out when you interrogate her?”

“If she doesn't immediately lawyer up, maybe.” He let go of my hand. “I've got to finish this booking and write a report.”

“Yeah, you do. Hope it goes well.”

He'd taken three strides toward his truck when he turned to face me again. “Nixy, civilians don't usually solve crimes.”

I gave him a wry smile. “Is that a thank-you?”

“It's an ‘I'll talk to you later.'”

I don't know where Lorna had been lurking to see and hear as much as she did, but she passed the news to the Silver Six that not only had Georgine been arrested for the murder in our fair town, but that I'd been to one to get the confession. Which was absolutely not true. I might've guided her to spill her story, but the woman had been so distraught, she'd only needed a little push to come clean.

I should've felt triumph, I supposed. All I felt was drained and sad. If Ernie was all Georgine had, she was all he had now, too. And she'd be in an Arkansas women's prison, if not in a psychiatric facility.

Proving once again that the Lilyvale grapevine thrives, friends began stopping by the store. Since it was only midafternoon, there were a lot of friends drifting in and out. Some had to get back to their businesses, others left to finish weekend errands. Dab and Maise pulled the folding chairs out of the workroom to provide some seating for the older crowd. Fred let Amber and T.C. come into the store to comfort me. Aster and Eleanor broke out the tea, coffee, and cookies.

Sherry fussed. “I can't believe we missed all this! Why didn't you tell the girls what was going on before you blew out of here? Why, child, you had no idea what kind of situation you were walking into.”

“This isn't like last time, Aunt Sherry. I wasn't in danger. Not with the police right there. Everything is fine.”

Amber gave a soft woof at that. T.C. purred in my lap.

Sherry shot me a doubtful look, and she alternated between being a good Southern hostess to our unexpected callers, and fluttering around me.

Meanwhile, I worked to respond cordially to all the inquiries people tossed at me, but the going was occasionally tough. I didn't want to appear to be fueling gossip, especially in case I was called to testify. True, both Eric and Officer Bryant had heard the confession, and that should be enough. I hoped it would be. I really didn't want to face Ernie or Georgine again.

At one point, Judy Armistead bounded into the store and came straight over to wrap me in a hug. Her kindness nearly undid me.

“Girl, what are you? A superhero in disguise? First you capture a suspect, then you put the real killer on the ground. Your exploits are gonna wear me thin.”

“I didn't put the killer on the ground,” I said, mindful of our listeners. “She sort of folded to her knees all by herself.”

“But you did jump in front of that speeding truck.”

Sherry gasped, and I grabbed her hand. “I did no such thing. I waved Caleb down.”

“What's happening with him now?” Maise asked.

I shrugged. “He's leaving town.”

“Well,” Aster said, drawling the word into three syllables, “I still say it was kind of him to let Ruth know her former neighbor's pets were alive and in a new home.”

I nodded my agreement. Had I ever thanked him for that? Probably not. I put that on my mental to-do list. Eric would
give me his contact information now that the case was solved.

“What about Helmet-Hair and the nephew?” Judy asked.

“I suppose they've gone back to Shreveport.”

“They had nothing to do with the murder?”

“Nope.”

“Bummer. I liked her for crime.”

“You've been watching cop shows, haven't you?”

“Of course. I'm not living them like you are. I take my thrills where I find them.”

Before I could form a reply, her phone played, and I cracked up when I recognized the tune—the theme song from
Magnum, PI.
She answered, said “Okay, honey” a few times, and disconnected.

“Gotta dash. We made goodies for a birthday party, and I'm doing the delivery. Take care, you hear? And stay out of trouble. You're a new friend I'd like to keep around for a while.”

*   *   *

At five, we locked the door. Dab had driven Maise and Aster home to get dinner ready. Before Fred had whisked T.C. and Amber off to the farmhouse, he'd fed them. Eleanor brought their bowls down with scoops of kibble and water for each, and I made a mental note to snag those when I came back. I planned on sleeping in tomorrow, and while I could use the exercise, I didn't want to trot down and back up the stairs as soon as I crawled out of bed.

Eleanor was on the phone back in the kitchenette. I couldn't hear her words, but from the muted rise and fall of her voice, I figured she was heading off more visitors. Bless the woman.

Sherry kept fussing.

“We called Doralee and Zach to be sure they had heard the good news,” she said. “Zach phoned Eric to get the okay
to leave, so they're packed and ready, but they're coming to have a bite with us first.”

“They're leaving tonight?”

“Yes. They'd like to be on the road by seven o'clock, but they want to see you before they go. Please say you'll come to early dinner and spend the night, child,” she finished, her voice close to pleading.

I sighed. “I'm in for dinner, Aunt Sherry, but I need to be in my own bed tonight.”

“But, Nixy, I hate to think of you being alone.”

“I do believe Nixy is right,” Eleanor stated firmly, smoothing her hands down her stylish blouse. “She'll be more comfortable in her own space.”

Sherry gave Eleanor a sour look for her dissenting opinion, but gave in. “Fine, then. If you're ready, let's go. Remember Zach and Doralee want to be home before dark.”

Since it didn't take but a bit over an hour to drive from Lilyvale to Texarkana, and we were smack in the middle of daylight savings time, I didn't think darkness would be a problem. But they had to be beyond eager to get home to their own spaces. Then I recalled Doralee had animals. I'd completely forgotten her mentioning dogs, cats, and a goat. Obviously she'd recruited a friend to care for them, but she must look forward to seeing them. I suddenly realized that I'd feel pangs if I were separated from Amber and T.C. for long, and I'd only known them a week.

*   *   *

Sherry didn't win the battle of the beds, but she talked me into riding with her and Eleanor instead of taking my own car. “Zach and Doralee can drop you off. It's on their way out of town.”

In fact, when I came back downstairs with my purse and phone, Sherry seemed to have let go of her objections to me coming back home to sleep. I didn't question the change in
attitude. I was simply happy not to be the least bit on the outs with her.

I should've known something was up.

*   *   *

We'd barely pulled in the gravel drive when Fred told me to go get the prepared plate of food on the kitchen table and take it to Old Lady Gilroy.

“She's itchin' to see you,” he said.

I looked over my shoulder toward the tiny home next door. “How do you know?”

“She's been watchin' the house through them binoculars o' hers for the last twenty minutes.”

Sure enough, Bernice Gilroy must've been seen me coming because she opened the door and grabbed my arm before I even knocked.

“Get on in here, and put down that plate.”

“Yes, ma'am. How are you?”

“Hungry, but enough about me. I hear you took down a killer.”

I gaped. “I don't know how you get your gossip, Bernice, but that's an exaggeration.”

She peered up at me, head tilted. “Nevertheless, you weathered the storm. You stay out of trouble for a fair while, you hear?”

“Yes, ma'am, but I plan to stay out of this kind of trouble forever.”

Bernice snorted. “That will be the day.”

I grinned. “Do you need anything while I'm here?”

She eyed the plate of food, and frowned. “Are my neighbors putting me on a diet, or have they turned stingy?”

I shook my head at her outrage. “Neither, but they're having company tonight.”

“Humph. Is that handsome detective coming?”

“I doubt it. He's at the station doing police work.”

“Booking and grilling the killer. I watch the cop shows. I'm partial to that Mark Harmon. Have I mentioned that?”

“You mentioned
NCIS
.”

“Well, that's his program. You bring your detective by sometime, and I'll see how he stacks up to Mark. You can leave now.”

Bemused by the visit as usual, I searched my memory of the folks who'd come by the store this afternoon. Mrs. Gilroy had to have a spy who reported Lilyvale news to her, but who? Not a soul came to mind. The question was as puzzling as everything else about the ancient little woman. Someday I'd solve the conundrum.

*   *   *

The Silver Six, Zach and Doralee, and I gathered around Sherry's farm table. We were seated close enough to bump elbows some, but no one complained. The atmosphere was festive, and we feasted on a cold collation of sliced and diced fruits, veggies, cold cuts, cheese, and the chicken salad that I adored. I had to learn to make this someday. This, and Maise's fried okra of the gods.

T.C. and Amber weren't under the table trolling for food. Too many feet to dodge. Instead, they'd curled up together under the sideboard. I was sure they'd do their Hoover imitations later.

The conversation centered on Doralee and Zach's plans for the coming week—catching up on work for Zach, and chores and gourds for Doralee. Happy as I was not to have the case at the center of the conversation, it struck me as odd that no one mentioned it at all.

Then I knew why.

The doorbell pealed, and I jumped up to answer it since I was seated closest. Eric stood there, looking fine. He'd changed clothes. Or at least his shirt. Hadn't it been green earlier?

“It's customary to ask people inside,” he drawled in that wonderfully low, sexy voice of his.

“Oh, sure. Come on in.”

“Bring him in here,” Sherry called through the double doorway between the dining room and foyer. “He must be starved.”

I cringed. “This may be an official visit, Aunt Sherry.”

“Let's call it semiofficial,” Eric said. “I
am
starved.”

Aster got another set of flatware, a plate, and a glass from the kitchen, and Dab carried in a wicker bar stool. He placed it by my chair at the table, but since I'd finished eating, I gave Eric my seat and took the stool. Everyone passed the platters and bowls closest to them down the table, and Eric took a sample of everything.

“I'm so happy you were able to get away from the station,” Sherry said.

“Yes, and I'm glad you caught the killer so we can go home,” Doralee added.

“If Nixy hadn't had an inkling that Miss Boudreaux might have a set of keys to her brother's Honda, I'd have the wrong person in jail. That smock disposal was a sticking point for me.”

“How did you come up with the two sets of keys?” Aster asked me.

“It hit me that you all have keys to each other's cars. Then a woman in the store today said she'd dropped her key in a storm drain. Her husband was on the way to bring his extra set.” I shrugged. “I figured since brother and sister lived together, they might both have a set. And then it all clicked.”

Maise smiled. “Good going, Nixy.”

“So did Georgine call for a lawyer right away?” Zach asked. “Did Ernie step in to do it?”

“She has an attorney now, but I was able to talk with her first. She wasn't as forthcoming at the station as she was earlier, but she cleared up a few things.”

“Like what?” Dab asked.

“She admitted to stealing Ms. Gordon's—”

“Doralee, Detective. Now that you don't have to keep your professional distance, call me by my first name.”

Eric dipped his head. “She took Doralee's awl and Eleanor's whittling knife because, and I quote, ‘Ernie needed new ones.' She'd shoved both of the tools under the mattress, and put the extra set of keys there, too, when she came back from disposing the smock. If we'd done more than a cursory search of her room, we would have found the whittling tool and keys.”

“That's it?” Doralee said. “She took the tools because Ernie needed new ones? She didn't intend to kill Kim?”

“We won't present the case to the deputy district attorney as premeditated murder, no.”

“Well, I'm relieved she never meant to frame me, but I've never known Georgine to shoplift. Why start now?”

“Maybe the stress of Ernie remarrying,” Zach offered.

“That or having her mind muddled by the migraine medications,” Maise said.

Doralee nodded. “Either one is as likely an explanation as anything else. I never did think she was quite right in the head.”

“Eric,” I began, “what about the diamond ring?”

“Diamond?” everyone but Zach and Fred echoed.

“Are you talking about Margot's ring?” Doralee asked. “I remember you said she wanted Kim to return it.”

“It's partly about Margot. I kept thinking how the ring on Kim's body looked different. Not at all the blast of bling I'd seen since I'd met her. I figured the killer might've stolen her ring.”