Murder at the Book Fair (13 page)

"As long as it doesn't take
you a long time."

Barney closed the door and walked
away. Lou listened to me whistle the
Jeopardy
theme twice before Barney
returned. I was thankful he didn't have to stop and check something on the
stove. 

"Sheriff says you're okay.
You might as well come in and be comfortable. But folks around here say the
coroner says the Colonel's death was an accident."

"The medical examiner where
I'm from, who did an autopsy, says he was murdered. The sheriff's inclined to
agree with him, so he asked for my help."

"Well, I didn't kill him.
Have a seat and tell me what I can help you with?"

Barney sat down in what I figured
was his chair and Lou and I took seats on the couch. I sat down and fluffed my
pillow before continuing, but I didn't wait to see if we were going to get an
invitation to supper. I started with a little small talk.

"Nice place you have
here."

"I like it. It's home."

"I bet it's quiet, too."

"Well, the
Canada
geese can be a little noisy when
they fly over, but other than that, it's pretty quiet. Not a lot of traffic.
Not a lot of neighbors."

"One less neighbor now. Tell
me what you know about Portwood."

"Not much to tell. Nice
enough guy. Talked a lot. Wrote books. Dated the woman next door to him. Never
caused anyone any trouble. Not the kind of guy you'd murder."

"What kind do you
murder?"

"One who is full of hatred,
threatens you or someone you love, someone who brightens a room when he
leaves."

"Who do you love?"

"It's just me here. I asked a
woman to marry me once. She said 'no.' I never asked another one."

"I asked a woman to marry me
once. She said 'yes,' so I never asked another one."

Barney laughed.

"How often did Portwood have
visitors?"

"You mean someone who didn't
live on this road?"

"That, and the two of you.
Visitors. Someone who showed up at his house. And did any of his visitors ever
come by way of the river?"

"So, you already know about
Miss Longacre?"

"A little. What can you tell
me about her?"

"She's okay. I think she was
more interested in the Colonel than he was in her, but they did spend a lot of
time together. They had done that for a long time."

"So, they got along
okay?"

"As far as I know. Some
people said they were fixing to get married. Not sure about that. The Colonel
didn't seem like the marrying kind. But he liked her okay."

"You didn't answer my
question about company."

"Most of the time if somebody
drives down this road, they're lost. I don't remember anybody being there
lately. Is that what you mean?"

"It is. Anybody ever come by
boat?"

"Not that I know of."

"Would you have heard them if
they had?"

"I doubt it. It would have to
be a noisy boat, or a noisy person. And the wind would have to be blowing the
right way."     

"What about Miss Longacre?
How often did she go over to see Portwood?"

"Pretty near every day as far
as I know. And he'd go over and see her from time to time. Sometimes they ate
together."

"Did you hear Portwood come
home Saturday night?"

"Yep. Didn't think nothing
about it. He came home and drove into his garage. At least I assume it was him.
It was dark time he got home, so all I saw were headlights. But since no one
else came down the road that night and he was found dead in his garage the next
morning, my guess is it was him. Never suspected that he drove in there and
died."

"Did Miss Longacre go over
there Saturday night?"

"I thought I saw her running
across the yard going back home from his house, but she said she never went
over until she found him on Sunday morning."

"What about you? Did you go
over?"

"Not until the sheriff showed
up. I walked over to see what was going on."

"When was the last time you
saw him before he died?"

"I think it was Tuesday or
Wednesday. I saw Miss Longacre out at the mailbox. Oh, the mailman came by
everyday. If you want to call him a visitor, but he never came up and knocked.
Well, he came every day any of us got mail, which wasn't everyday. None of the
three of us get much mail. And there's only a half dozen houses on this whole
road, and most of us who live here are getting up in age. Anyway, I saw Miss
Longacre at her mailbox and she said the Colonel was sick. He was supposed to
leave for that book fair on Tuesday, like he always did, but he didn't leave
until early Thursday morning. Anyway, I went over one day and asked if I could
do anything for him, but he said he would be fine in a day or so. I never saw
him again after that."

"Was he able to pay his bills
on time?"

"I didn't mess with anything
that wasn't my business, but I'm sure he could. Some people said he was doing
okay, as if maybe he had more money than he let on."

"Did he ever give you any of
it?"

"He'd buy me a little
something for Christmas, but he never gave me any money. I'm doing okay too,
got everything I need, so I never had to ask anybody for help."

"What about Miss Longacre?
Did he give her any money?"

"You'd have to ask her about
that. Again, what the two of them did wasn't none of my business."

"Did he ever say anything
about something bothering him, or do you know if he had any enemies?"

"As far as I know, the answer
to both questions is no. How did he die, anyway? Or are you allowed to tell
me?"

"I'll keep that a secret for
a while longer.  Anything else you know that might help me?"

"I don't think I've told you
anything to start with. It wasn't like I was with whoever it was that killed
him. But I can tell you this. Whoever it was must have sneaked up from the
river, because I'm sure nobody else drove down this road that night. And I
never heard anything like a gunshot. But then the coroner said it was
accidental, and he didn't say anything about a gunshot. From what I heard, the
coroner thinks he pulled in his garage and went to sleep before he cut his car
off."

"Oh, one other thing. It
doesn't have anything to do with this, but I was wondering if you have a
map."

"A map."

"Yeah, you know. An old-fashioned
folded piece of paper with drawings of roads on it."

"Yeah, I still have one. It's
in my truck."

"Would you mind getting it
for me?"

"That's okay. Help
yourself."

"You mean it's not
locked."

"It's been so long since
another human being has been out here and none of us lock our vehicles. And
it's become a habit. I even forget to lock mine when I go to town."

"Okay. I just wanted to make
sure to take the best road back to
Frankfort
."

"Here. Let's get the map and
I'll show you the best way."

I thanked Barney for his time and
Lou and I kicked up a little dust as we crossed the road and walked one house
to the right until I came to Millie Longacre's house. I didn't see her watching
me. So, I knocked and we waited close to a minute  until she came to the door.

"I heard a car, but that was
a few minutes ago. Who in the world are you?"

She looked past Lou and me at her
driveway.

"Where's your car?"

"It's next door."

"No one lives over there
anymore."

"I know. That's why I'm
here."

"I don't know if it's for
sale or not, but I doubt if you'd like it out here."

"Oh, I don't know. It looks
quiet and peaceful."

"That's why I don't think
you'd like it. That is unless you're used to a quiet place."

"So, are you the owner? Or
the real estate agent?"

"Of the house next door. No,
that would have been Cyril Portwood, but he died the other day. I don't know
who'll get the place now."

"Do you think he might have
left it to you?"

"Now why would he have done
that?"

"I understand you two were
very close."

"Who told you that, and who
are you anyway? Don't go causing any trouble. I've got a gun right here on this
table."

"I won't cause you any
trouble unless you deserve it."

"Well, I haven't caused
anyone any trouble. And you still haven't told me who you are."

"I'm Lt. Dekker and this is
Sgt. Murdock. We're looking into the mysterious death of Cyril Portwood."

"M-m-mysterious death. He
died in his car. Carbon monoxide."

"Oh, are you the coroner down
here?"

"No, but that's what his
findings were."

"And our findings were
different. Our findings said he was murdered."

"M-m-murdered. How?"

"I understand you went over
and found him Saturday night, not long after he got back."

"That's, uh, I mean that's
not right. I found him Sunday morning, not Saturday night."

"Now, Miss Longacre, you can
tell me the truth. We know you found him Saturday night."

"I didn't. I found him Sunday
morning."

"So, who cut his car off. It
didn't run out of gas."

"I guess it must have been
Bob Barney. I saw him out in his yard Saturday night. I think he'd just come
back from Cyril's or was on his way over there."

"He told me about that. Said
he saw you returning from Portwood's house."

"Then he's lying. Or at least
mistaken. Besides, I didn't kill Cyril. We were going to be married."

"I heard he called the
wedding off."

"Oh, he got mad one day, but
he always got over it quick. We were going to get married soon."

"Had you set a date?"

"We were planning to do that
at Christmas."

"Miss Longacre, I'm not
saying you killed him, but you must have been the one who cut the car
off."

"It must have been
Barney."

"It would make more sense if
it was you. Didn't you hear him come home Saturday night?"

"I guess I did. He usually
called me when he came home from the book fair, and sometimes he would come
over and tell me all about it, but I figured he was still mad, or maybe too
tired to talk. That's the reason I didn't go over there."

"You sure you didn't go over
and find him dead?"

She started crying and didn't
answer my question. I gave her a moment to compose herself.

"How well off was
Portwood?"

"How would I know?"

"Well, you said you were
going to marry him."

"Well, I don't know exactly,
but he had a right smart amount of money. How much exactly I don't know."

"Is that why he gave you
$50,000 every year?"

"I don't know what you're
talking about. He gave me money from time to time, but nothing like
$50,000."

"What about $50,000 a little
at a time, spread out over a year?"

"I don't know where you got
your information, but he never gave me more than a few hundred dollars at a
time, and not more than two or three thousand dollars over the course of a
year. If he gave anyone that kind of money, it wasn't me."

"What about some other
woman?"

"There was no other woman. It
was just me and him. And if he gave anyone else any money he didn't tell me
about it."

"What about his brother and
sister?"

"Ha! That's a laugh. He
wouldn't give them a dime if he didn't have to."

"Were they ever here?"

"Never. He didn't even tell
them where he lived."

"And you have no idea who he
gave money to, because he did give it to someone, and in cash?"

"Not a clue. Well, I know he
gave money to charities each year, but I doubt if it was that much. And he was
always willing to help someone who was down and out, as long as he felt that
person was honest and wasn't lazy."

"So, who inherits all
this?"

"I have no idea."

"You think you might get part
of it?"

"I don't know. I think he had
a will, but I don't know who gets what."

"Do you think someone killed
him for his money?"

"I don't even think he was
murdered. I think it was an accident, like the coroner said."

"But the coroner didn't do an
autopsy and my friend, who's a medical examiner, did, and he said it was
murder."