Silver Six Crafting Mystery 01 - Basket Case (18 page)

“Then why is Lorna upset about Clark and Elsman?”

“She thinks Elsman was trying to influence Clark because he’s a councilman. That she wanted him to approve whatever scheme she had going and swing other votes when the time came. Clark can be opinionated and surly, but he’s shown he has the city’s good at heart.”

The bell signaled a new customer and Pauletta closed my folder as she called out, “Hello, Mrs. Hardy. I have your order ready. Nixy, I’ll have this done in a few hours.”

“No rush. I can stop by tomorrow.”

I turned from the counter to find Mrs. Corina Hardy staring at me. Deputy prosecuting attorney Bryan Hardy’s aunt—I remembered seeing her at church. Her swollen feet crammed into navy shoes with clunky heels, she was two inches taller than I. A wide white belt circled the waist of her navy blue dress, her makeup was troweled on, and she held her nose in the air.

What really got my attention was the bow in her gray hair.

The blue gingham bow.

I didn’t believe for a second that Mrs. Hardy had killed Hellspawn or stolen a thing from Sherry’s barn. But as accessories go, it struck me as odd.

“You,” Mrs. Hardy snapped, her tone haughty. “You’re Sherry Mae Cutler’s niece.”

I straightened. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

“Bad business at her place,” she pronounced. “Having a graveyard on one’s property is tasteless, and look what’s happened. A murder. Scandalous. Sherry Mae should move those graves to a proper cemetery immediately.”

I seethed at the insult to Sherry but pasted a smile on my face. I guess it was a scary smile because Mrs. Hardy took a small step back.

“The graves,” I said calmly but firmly, “are precisely where they should be. In fact, I’m thinking we’ll rededicate the cemetery. Invite the city and county dignitaries, and have a lawn party.” I turned away, then back. “By the way, that’s an interesting bow you’re wearing. Blue gingham is my aunt’s trademark fabric, you know.”

Mrs. Hardy’s mouth fell open, and I heard sputtering sounds as I walked out to the tinkling music of the bell over the door. I hoped I hadn’t put Pauletta in an uncomfortable position, but from the twitch I’d seen on her lips, she’d weather Mrs. Hardy just fine.

I tried not to dwell on that stupid hair bow. I’d already confirmed via my tablet connection to the Internet that blue gingham fabric was available in different hues, various sizes of checks, and from outlets like Amazon to fabric stores to hobby and craft stores. Mrs. Hardy might’ve purchased hers ready-made at a drugstore or the beauty salon. The bow didn’t have ominous meaning other than to remind me to stay focused.

Downtown traffic was heavier today than it had been on Monday when Sherry and I were in town, but cars stopped for me to cross to the courthouse at the center of the square—likely because I looked like a woman on a mission. I caught myself stomping up the concrete courthouse steps, so I stopped and took a calming breath before I opened the heavy door. Aster would be proud.

Considering all the windows decorating the outside of the building, the courthouse hallway I stepped into was cool and dark. Which made sense when I realized office doors opened from the hall. Sure enough, I opened the door marked
TAX COLLECTOR
and was nearly blinded by the sunlight streaming in.

Though it was almost two in the afternoon, only one person was in the office, and I was betting it was Patricia Ledbetter. I didn’t think she was much older than early thirties, but everything about her spoke of being careworn to a frazzle. Her slumped posture, the clothes sagging on her thin body, her dull pale blue eyes when she stood to greet me, all spoke of heavy burdens.

I felt so sorry for her, I had to steel myself to follow my plan.

“May I help you?” She tried for an inquiring smile and failed.

“I hope you’re Patricia Ledbetter,” I said cheerfully.

Her expression grew wary. “I am.”

“Great. I’m Nixy, and I was told you could help me with research for a genealogy project.”

She relaxed. “Who are you researching?”

“The Stantons and the land they owned.”

“Mrs. Cutler’s family? You must be the niece I’ve heard about.”

“Guilty as charged,” I said lightly, though I caught Patricia cringe. “Dare I ask how you know about me?”

She flapped a hand, flustered. “Oh, you know. It’s a small town. Word gets around when new people come here.”

“Everyone knows everyone else’s business?”

She ducked her head, turned back to her desk. “What do you need to know?”

I pulled a pad from my bag. Not the one with the entire suspect list, but a smaller one I’d used to jot notes.

“I want to confirm when the first Stanton bought land here.”

She stopped. “That’s easy. It was 1867, and Lilyvale was founded in 1868. Although we weren’t incorporated as such until later.”

“Wow, you know your local history.”

She shrugged. “It’s sort of my hobby. I wanted to be a history teacher or a historical librarian, but that didn’t work out.”

“This job has historical aspects, though, and I’m sure you’re good it. I was referred to you, after all.”

“By whom? Your aunt?”

I took a chance. “No, by Ida Bollings.”

She looked pained. “Is there anything else can I help you with today?”

I glanced at my notes. “I need to know the legal description of my aunt’s homestead, but I just realized I don’t have the address.”

“I can look it up,” she said, scooting to her computer. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, and she clicked a few times. “Would you like a printout of this?”

“Sure, thanks.”

She clicked the mouse again, and I heard the printer whir to life. “Now, let me print the other one for you, too.”

“What other one?”

“There’s a second address, and it looks like it’s the house next door.”

Next door? There was no house next door to Sherry except Mrs. Gilroy’s.

“Ah, Patricia, I don’t mean to offend you, but are you sure you don’t have the records mixed up again?”

“You heard about that.”

Her voice was flat, angry but without real heat. When she glanced over at me, her eyes brimmed with tears. “This isn’t a mistake. Your aunt pays the taxes on her house and the one next door, plus on several commercial properties in town and unimproved land, too,” she finished in a rush. “I’ll print them all for you.”

Patricia clicked the mouse rapid-fire, then shot to stand at the printer, her back to me. When it spit out the last sheet, she snatched them up and crossed to slap them on the counter.

“Patricia, Jill Elsman was behind your tax records mess, wasn’t she?”

Panic flooded her expression. “Please, I’ve fixed that. I’m sorry. Don’t get me in trouble. I can’t lose this job.”

HER WHOLE BODY QUAKED IN FULL-ON TERROR.
I took one of her hands in mine and patted it, hoping to calm her.

“Patricia, I don’t want to see you fired or get you in more trouble, but I need information.”

“What kind of information?” Her tone dripped suspicion, but she didn’t pull away.

I took a breath. “You have a chronically ill child, don’t you?”

Her hand twitched. “Davy.”

I gulped but forged ahead. “Jill Elsman got you to falsify the tax payments, didn’t she? She probably put a lot of pressure on you.”

Patricia shuddered. “She was sort of friendly at first, then she was horrible. She offered me a bribe, and she threatened to spread the rumor that I was an unfit mother if I didn’t take the money. People here know me. They know better, but she convinced me they’d believe her.”

My hand tightened on hers in sympathy. “I’m sorry she put you in a no-win situation. It was cruel, and you did what you had to do. I don’t hold that against you, Patricia.”

“You don’t?”

I released her hand, shook my head. “Not at all, and I don’t think you were the only person she was manipulating.”

“No?” she said, eyes wide. “Who else was she threatening?”

“Mr. Donel, perhaps?”

“My boss? No way. He was furious about the property tax records being messed up, but he was kind to me about it. Kinder than I deserved, but he knows how distracted I get when Davy has bad spells.”

I took another tack. “Do you think Elsman targeted you on her own, or did someone suggest she get to you?”

Patricia spread her hands. “That’s puzzled me, too, but she knew about Davy the first time she came in.”

“How? Was he here with you? Could she have overheard you talking on the phone about him?”

“No, no. She asked to see a plat book and studied the land division maps for a while before she inquired about some parcels.” Patricia looked up and into the distance. “Let’s see. When she gave the book back, she said she was staying at the Inn on the Square, and she’d heard about my sick son.”

“Did she start nagging you right away?”

Patricia shook her head. “She told me things would get better for us soon, and she left. I guess I thought she heard about Davy and me from Clark or Lorna. She started badgering me the next day, and the next. Then Davy had a bad time again, and that’s when I broke.”

An outside door shut, and we both jumped.

“Mr. Donel is due back. I—I have to get to work.”

“That’s okay. Thanks for all your help. Oh, and Patricia?”

She turned back to me.

“Did Elsman come through? Did she pay you?”

Patricia’s gaze darted around the office as if someone had materialized to hear us. Satisfied we were still alone, she nodded.

“She gave me cash. I feel guilty spending it, though. I mean, her estate—”

“Her family doesn’t need it. Besides, backhanded as it was, it was likely the kindest thing Elsman ever did for anyone.”

That got a shy smile out of Patricia, and it looked good on her.

I stepped into the sunshine and stuffed the printouts into my bag. Two missions down, one to go before I met the ladies. Sherry and Eleanor had planned to visit all the dress shops for scoop, but they’d told me Clarra’s Closet had a selection of clothes for my age range in petites, so I put that one on my snooping list. The shop was just off the square proper, toward the police station.

I set out in that direction thinking about Patricia’s revelations. Not that it was a shocker that Hellspawn had bribed her. Threatening to start a rumor that could take Patricia’s child away was pure evil, completely believable, and sadly, no surprise.

On the other hand, learning that Sherry owned Mrs. Gilroy’s house, or at least paid the property taxes, was unexpected in the extreme. It certainly explained why Hellspawn hadn’t badgered Mrs. Gilroy. I suppose it also explained why Hellspawn had so coveted Sherry’s land.

•   •   •

CLARRA’S CLOSET DIDN’T CARRY THE MOST
cutting-edge of fashions, but the clothes were well made, classically stylish, and a whole lot less pricey than at similar shops in Houston. In other words, perfect for me. The salesladies didn’t dish any dirt, so I gave my credit card a workout buying capris and jeans in blue, one flirty black skirt, and several mix-and-match blouses. A package of bikini undies and a scarf on clearance, and I was satisfied I had outfits enough to see me through the rest of my visit. However long I needed to be here.

Which reminded me I needed to call Barbra again. I’d told her I would be back Monday, but today was Friday. Unless we found the real killer in record time, I’d be in Lilyvale a little while longer.

As I exited the store, I nearly ran into Kate Byrd on the sidewalk. I seized the moment.

“Mrs. Byrd, hello. I’m Nixy, Sherry Mae’s niece. I met you at the folk art festival.”

“Oh yes. How is your aunt? I heard she was arrested.”

“No, just questioned. I heard you had lunch with Ms. Elsman a while back.”

Instead of getting defensive, Kate Byrd rolled her eyes. “What a pain that woman was. She wanted me to vote in favor of some development, but wouldn’t tell me a thing about the project. I blew her off.”

“And she didn’t harass you or try to manipulate you?”

“Oh, she made noises. She attempted to influence all of us on the council. I know because we compared notes. Informally, not in a meeting. I think the only one of us she regularly cornered was Clark Tyler, and then only because she was staying at the inn. It was much harder for him to avoid her, don’t you know.”

“Yes, Lorna complained about her, too.”

Mrs. Byrd’s cell played the sound of a creaking door. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go. Tell Sherry Mae hi for me.”

I stopped at my car to toss my shopping bags in the backseat before hustling to meet the ladies at the café. They were seated at the largest table in the middle of the room, the surface crowded with a tray of assorted pastries, five place settings of small plates, forks, and napkins, and five tall glasses of iced tea.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask as I took one of two empty seats.

Sherry flashed a wide grin, and it struck me that I hadn’t seen her so happy and relaxed since Sunday’s stroll down Stanton family history lane. Could’ve been the cherry minitart on her plate, but I chalked it up to more.

“Lorna’s been baking up a storm for the book club luncheon here tomorrow. We’re doing our neighborly duty and testing her new desserts.”

“What happened to the early dinner we’re supposed to have?”

Maise cut another portion of her lemon bar. “We’ll have it, but you know that saying. Life is short.”

“Eat dessert first.” Aster finished the quote flourishing a forkful of chocolate croissant.

“And I do believe we deserve it,” Eleanor said, as she stuck a fork in a flaky apple turnover.

They giggled like carefree schoolgirls. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought Lorna had put happy herbs in the goodies. Or the ladies had sniffed too much of Aster’s lavender.

What the heck. I scooped a chocolate croissant onto my plate and nearly swooned at the first bite.

“So, do you want to hear what we learned?” Sherry asked, her bangs swooping over her eye.

“Sure but . . .” I glanced around the room. “Where is Lorna?”

“She’s in the kitchen with Clark. She’ll join us in a few minutes.”

Now I peered at the stairway to the upstairs inn. “Trudy and Jeanette?”

“Lorna said Jeanette took the Hummer on home to Little Rock, and Trudy drove Jeanette’s car to Magnolia.”

“Okay, then. What’ve y’all got?”

“What do we have,” Sherry corrected. “On the positive side, the rumor mill was grinding at every stop, but only about the murder in general. No one saw Elsman driving her Hummer the night she was killed, and the neighbors we ran into were in bed during the time she was killed.”

“They saw the Hummer rumble through town day and night,” Aster added, “but never saw anyone with her except Trudy.”

“And those sightings were during the day,” Maise supplied. “No one reported a passenger when they saw the car at night.”

“I do believe that would be due to the tinted windows,” Eleanor said.

“You’re right. So you didn’t get any real leads?”

“No, but what about your missions?” Sherry asked. “Did you talk with Patricia?”

“She confirmed that Elsman paid her to falsify the property tax records.”

“You came right out and asked?” Aster looked as appalled as Sherry.

“We sort of stumbled onto the subject. I saw Pauletta at the business center, and Mrs. Hardy. That woman is a piece of work.”

“What did she say to get your back up?” Eleanor asked.

“That Sherry was tacky for having a cemetery in the backyard, and that the graves should be moved.”

Maise grinned. “And you said?”

They each leaned in toward me.

“That we should rededicate the cemetery and make a party of it.”

They each leaned back, shot glances at each other.

“That’s quite a good idea,” Eleanor said slowly.

“I was planning to smudge the cemetery anyway.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You know, burn cleansing herbs to get rid of the dark energy. I couldn’t do it with the detective there.”

“The anniversary of the Stanton’s coming to Lilyvale is in June,” Sherry mused. “Is that a long enough time from the murder to be respectful?”

“Of a woman who didn’t respect others?” Maise scoffed. “More than enough, but is it something you really want to do, Sherry Mae? Didn’t you have something else planned in June? In Texarkana?”

Sherry blinked at Maise. “That little jaunt? I can work around it. Nixy, do you think you could come back if we plan this?”

“Uh, sure,” I answered, but wondered what that byplay between Maise and Sherry was about. I filed that away and got us back to the point. “But let’s make sure you stay out of jail first. I talked to Kate Byrd, too. She said Elsman tried to manipulate her and the other council members, but they blew her off. So I got a little information, but nothing really new.”

Sherry patted my hand. “It’s too bad we didn’t get a solid lead, but that’s the way the croissant crumbles. Now, I wonder where Lorna got off to. She said she’d join us, but she’s taking an awfully long time.”

“Do you need her for something special?”

“We need to pay the tab,” Sherry said, and reached for her purse.

“I’ll go find her. I need to use the restroom anyway.”

I went through the opening in the bar to peer in the window set in the swinging door that led to the kitchen. I didn’t want to smack the door into Lorna, but no one stood on the other side. I pushed the door open and stepped just inside.

“Lorna?”

Voices came from farther back in the room, behind a door that was cracked just enough for me to catch the strident tones. First I heard the word “money,” and then part of a phrase—“what you . . . mutter mumble . . . with that woman.” Did I dare tiptoe closer to eavesdrop? In the next moment, something slammed, and I flat chickened out.

“Lorna,” I called, louder than I had the first time. Much louder.

The far door flew all the way open. Lorna’s haunted gaze found mine, and she frowned at me. “Nixy? What do you need?”

“Sorry to bother you,” I said, forcing a nonchalant smile, “but Sherry is ready for the check.”

Her expression smoothed. “I’ll be right out.”

I went back to the tiny hall between the kitchen and interior staircase and on to the restroom. When I exited, Lorna was near the front door chatting with the ladies, and Clark vigorously wiped down the bar. His full beard didn’t do enough to hide the strain in his face. I didn’t figure he was stressed enough to break the way Patricia had, but I had to put out feelers. Sherry’s continued freedom was on the line.

“Hi, Mr. Tyler.” His gaze snapped up, but it was clear he didn’t recognize me. “I’m Sherry Mae’s niece, Nixy. We met Sunday.”

“We did?”

“When Jill Elsman almost hit you and Bryan Hardy. You stopped to talk with us.”

“I remember now.” His body language relaxed, but his expression was more perturbed than friendly. “What can I do for you—Nixy, is it?”

“What time do you and Lorna normally leave for the night?”

He gave me a long stare. “Why do you ask?”

I suppressed a shudder of unease and forged ahead. “I wondered if you saw Jill Elsman’s Hummer in the parking lot on Tuesday night.”

“Is this about your aunt Sherry Mae?” he asked, his gaze sliding to the group still at the doorway.

“Yes. I ask because it seems odd that Elsman wouldn’t have driven herself that night. So, did you see her car in the lot when y’all left?”

“Lorna went home before me that night. I don’t remember seeing that crazy Elsman’s car or not seeing it.”

Huh. He didn’t even have to think about his answer when he finally gave it. Had he rehearsed it? He also didn’t mention what time he left the café. Had he followed Hellspawn and killed her?

One thing was sure. If this man had an ounce of political charm, I hadn’t seen it Sunday, and I wasn’t seeing it now.

So much for getting more information. I thanked him, thanked Lorna on my way out the door, and gathered with the ladies on the wide sidewalk.