Murder at the Book Fair (12 page)

"And you saw the list?"

"Yeah, one of them even
flipped her list down on my table, told me she was through with it and I could
have it. I looked at it and then tossed it in the trash."

"And all of them bought from
only those two authors?"

"As far as I could tell. I
know they didn't buy from anyone else nearby."

"Did anyone buy from one of
those authors, but not the other one?"

"Oh, yeah. And several people
bought from one or both of them and Cereal, too. He had a good following. And
there were some who bought from every mystery author there, but that didn't
include the people who had the typewritten list of those two authors."

"You knew Portwood fairly
well. Right?"

"Probably as well as one
person can know another, only having contact with them two or three times a
year."

"Were you aware that Portwood
drew $50,000 out of the bank each year?"

"No. Why would I be?"

"Would you possibly have any
idea what he did with that money?"

"Well, he didn't give it to
me. And I don't think he gave it to his brother or sister. I know he had a lady
friend who lived next door to him. He might have given it to her. But then I'd
heard rumors that Cereal was well off and was known to give money to people he
felt needed it from time to time. And I think he supported certain charities,
although I have no idea which ones. Like I said, we never talked about
money."  

"Do you think he might have
given money to an up-and-coming author, someone whom he thought had
talent?"

"I guess that's possible, but
I don't remember him commenting about someone like that. Like I said, I have no
idea what his finances were like, except I'm pretty sure he always knew where
his next meal was coming from."

"And how about you? How are
you doing?"

"Well, like I said, I'm doing
okay. Unless the bottom falls out, I think I'll be able to live out the rest of
my years here in my house."

"Can you remember who the two
authors were who shared a table with him at the KBF?"

"Let's see. Yeah, it was two
women. Lori Wildwood and Jonnetta Jarvis. I believe it was Lori's second time
at the book fair, Jonnetta's first time."

I should have remembered that.
They both write mysteries and I bought a book from each of them.

"How well do you know
them?"

"I don't. I've never seen either
one anywhere other than at the book fair the other day. And I think they said
they met each other for the first time at the reception on Friday night, so
they didn't know each other beforehand."

"Do you know if Portwood knew
either of them?"

"I can't say for sure, but I
don't think he did. If he knew either of them he didn't let on that he
did."

"So, you have no idea why
someone bought books written by only those two women?"

"None whatsoever. Now, a lot
of people bought books from Cereal and me, and I think it's the same way with
Duffy Brown and Laurien Berenson. Both of the women with Cereal write
mysteries, but, like I said, one of them has written only a couple of mysteries
and the other one only one. So, it's not like they have a big following yet.
And I'm not sure why so many people bought a book from each of them and no one
else. Because others of us at the KBF write mysteries. You were there. You saw
them. Bill Noel's been coming for a few years now. Duffy Brown has been there a
couple of times. Laurien Berenson, who writes the dog mysteries, has just
started coming, but she's been writing books for years. And David Baldacci and
Sue Grafton have been there. And boy did both of them sell a lot of books. I
mean Cereal and I sell a lot, but not compared to those two. They sold more in
a couple of hours than the two of us did all day."

I was silent, trying to think of
anything else to ask Cartwright. I couldn't think of anything. So I thanked him
for his time, told him I might see him again, looked at my watch and saw that
the morning was mostly gone.

As soon as we got to someplace
that looked like civilization I called Herb Wainscott to let him know it would
be a late lunch. I also wanted to call Bill Noel and ask him about Saturday
breakfast. I didn't want him to be the murderer. He had made it to my Favorite
Authors list, which was now up to around twenty-five authors. I didn't want him
to have to write his next mystery from prison. but I forgot about him for a
minute and called Herb Wainscott.

"Cy, you do realize that
Portwood lived outside of
Westport
,
but I'm in LaGrange, don't you?"

"No, I didn't realize
that."

"It's in the same county, but
you need to come here to eat. There's nowhere to eat in
Westport
, unless you catch your own lunch
out of the river. There's a really good place here called 119 West Main.
They'll fix you up with a Locomotive and some Kentucky Bacon Pie for
dessert."

"Do what?"

"Trust me. It's good. And you
won't leave there hungry. And when you leave I'll point you in the right direction
to get to Portwood's place. You can't miss it, unless you turn the wrong
way." 

"Well, I've been known to
turn the wrong way once or twice."

Herb laughed. We said goodbye and
ended the call. I was getting a little more comfortable using a cell phone.

While I drove I had Lou check to
get Bill Noel's number. He did and I dialed on my hands-free Bluetooth. He
answered after a couple of rings. He admitted to eating breakfast with Portwood
and another author and his wife, but not to poisoning anyone. He was pretty
sure the other author didn't poison Portwood either, but he couldn't vouch for
the guy's wife.

Once we got on a straight, wide
road, I felt safe talking to Lou.

"So, what do you think?"

"I think it's nice to see
this part of the state."

"What about the
murderer?"

"I don't think it will be as
nice seeing the murderer."

"Do you think we've already
seen the murderer?"

"I don't know yet. I've
narrowed it down to 'yes' and 'no.'"

"You know, Lou, the prison in
LaGrange said they could use a new inmate."

"Well, if that's what you
want to do, Cy, I'll see that Lightning gets home all right. Don't you worry!
And I promise to write once a week and come and see you once a month."

"I wonder how long they would
give me for murdering a former friend, if the murder was premeditated."

"Probably longer than you
would want to stay. I doubt if the food is as good as what you are used
to."

"So, let's try this again,
and this time I'll be specific. What do you think about the mysterious
volunteer, the $50,000, and the book buying list?"

"Why didn't you say so? I
don't think the mysterious volunteer got the $50,000, and I don't think that
the books on anyone's list that day cost that much."

"Lou, how do you feel about
an
Ohio River
baptism?"

"You know someone getting
baptized today?"

"Maybe you. I'd even be
willing to provide an anchor so you can get totally drenched."

"I've already been baptized,
and as an adult, too. But without an anchor.  I think it took the first time.
And I wouldn't want to go into that river without a boat. It's big, and it
might be muddy. There's no telling who might have drowned in that river."

"So, what you're telling me
is that in your limited wisdom you have no idea who might have done what to
whom?"

"Au contraire, my good
friend. I know to whom it was done. I even know what was done to him. However,
the who did it escapes me at the moment."

"I think a lot of things
escape you at the moment."

"So, you think you know who
did it?"

"No. I'm waiting until I talk
to everyone involved. Then I will decide."

"Well, I doubt if one of
those people involved will be able to help you much. Don't count on Portwood
helping us solve his murder."

"I know where I went wrong
now. I should have asked Heather to come with me today."

"What about Jennifer?"

"I told you before. She's not
in law enforcement. Heather is."

"I bet if you had brought
Heather that Jennifer would be in law enforcement, too."

"And that's the reason I
brought you. No one is jealous of you."

+++

We saved a few minutes by taking
I-64 and bypassing Shelbyville. Eventually we arrived at LaGrange and found the
sheriff's office. Later we would head northwest to
Westport
. I still thought about dropping
off Lou at the prison in LaGrange so he could try it out and see if he liked
it, but I didn't want to make that trip to unfamiliar territory by myself, so I
planned to let him make the rest of the trip. If he misbehaved at lunch I could
always drop him off before I left for
Westport
and ask Herb if he wanted to go to Portwood's place with me.

+++

I didn't want Lightning to be
towed, so I found a place to park and then Lou and I found Herb Wainscott's
office. After we picked him up, we  walked through a park to get to the
restaurant. Even though it was almost
1:30
, there were still people enjoying their lunch. Lou and I took Herb's
suggestion and soon found out that a Locomotive was a hamburger with about
everything on it. And the Kentucky Bacon Pie didn't have bacon in it. But both
of them were good. And filling. Eating all that reminded me of the way Lou and
I used to eat. I thought about leaving Lightning in LaGrange and walking to
Portwood's place in order to lose the weight I gained at lunch, until I found
out it was far enough that it might take me a few days to get there.

Getting to
Westport
wasn't a problem. It was a
straight shot from LaGrange. But getting to Portwood's place was a little more
difficult. I turned onto a tree-lined narrow country road, and then onto the
road that led to Portwood's place. Eventually I found a mailbox shaped like a
book with Portwood's name on it, so I figured I'd come to the right place. That
was good because the road dead-ended a few feet past Portwood's place. I pulled
Lightning into Portwood's driveway and got out. I enjoyed the country smell. I
could also tell that we were near the river. I assumed that's why the road
dead-ended. I noticed one house to the right, and another house across the
road. Herb told me both neighbors would probably be home, and he was right.

"Well, Lou, are you ready to
meet Portwood's neighbors?"

"Sounds better than your
suggestion of prison or another baptism."

"I haven't ruled those
out."

"I have, sight unseen."

"So, do you want to go with
me or sit here and see if someone stops by to poison you?"

"If I go, will I get to say anything?"

"Of course not."

"Then I'll go. Which one
first?"

"Let's start with the one
who's most likely to be innocent, the guy across the road."

Lou figured if I said a man was
innocent he was surely guilty, so he started looking for his handcuffs until he
remembered we were sort of retired. Unless we were doing a favor for a friend.

We crossed the road least traveled
without looking both ways. Bob Barney's place was a small house on the side
away from the river and set back only thirty or so feet from the road. I had
found out that Barney farms, but doesn't have it as rough in the late fall, so
he answered shortly after I knocked. I think it helped that he stood near the
picture window and watched us approach the house. I remembered that Herb had
told me that no one could sneak up on either of Portwood's neighbors.

The man who answered the door was
slightly above average in height and his full head of hair was a mixture of
brown and gray. Mixed together it looked sand colored. I pictured him to be in
his early sixties. He looked to be in good shape for his age.

"Don't get many visitors out
this way. You boys lost?"

"Not if you're Bob
Barney."

"Then I guess you're not
lost. Have we met?"

"Not until now. I'm Lt. Cy
Dekker and this is Sgt. Lou Murdock. We're investigating Cyril Portwood's
death."

"You're not from around here.
Why are you investigating?"

"I know Sheriff Wainscott. He
asked me to look into Portwood's death."

"Mind waiting here at the
door while I give the sheriff a call?"