Murder at the Book Fair (14 page)

"Maybe he's mistaken."

"And maybe someone isn't
telling me all that he or she knows."

I looked at Miss Longacre, who was
shaking.

"I wish I could tell you
something, but I can't. I don't know anything. Someone must have sneaked up
from the river after I went to bed Saturday night."

"And Portwood was expecting
them?"

"I don't think he was expecting
anyone."

"Then why did he wait in his
car until they arrived. Especially since it was after you went to bed."

"Maybe whoever it was killed
him and put him back in his car."

"And they put his luggage
back in the car, too, because it was there when the sheriff arrived? But then
you know that."

"How would I know?"

"I thought you were the one
who found him."

"You've got me all mixed up.
I didn't kill him. I just found him."

"Shortly after he got home,
on Saturday night."

"No. I didn't find him until
Sunday morning."

"You were going to get
married. You know he loved the book fair. And you weren't the least bit curious
when he got home and didn't come over or call you."

"I thought maybe he was still
mad. Besides, he might have been tired and went on to bed. I already told you
this."

"He was so tired that he
never made it out of the car. But then someone saw to it that he never left
that car."

"Well, it wasn't me."

"So, how did you get in the
house when you found him?"

"I know where he leaves his
spare key. I used it when he didn't answer my knock."

"So, you just walked in,
walked over to the garage, and found him in the front seat."

"That's right! Well, no,
that's not right. I hollered for him first. He didn't answer, so I looked
around the house. I didn't see him anywhere, so I checked the garage. That's
when I found him."

"Did you turn on the garage
light first?"

"No, I could see the car,
then saw him slumped behind the wheel. Then I turned on the light and rushed
over to him, but I could tell he was dead."

"Why did you need to turn on
the light if it was daytime?"

"Because there are no windows
in that garage. It's dark in there with the garage door down, day or
night."

"And his garage door
automatically closed once his car cleared it?"

"He could set it either way,
where it would close or stay open."

"You seem to know a lot about
his garage door."

"We went places together.
Sometimes he drove into the garage. Like if we were going in his house instead
of me coming on home, he'd go ahead and shut it. If I had to get on home he
left it up until after I left."

"So, you know all about his
garage door, but you don't know how much money he had and who's going to get
it. We may be back, Miss Longacre. We may be back."

"I told you I didn't do it,
and I don't know who did. Now, stay away from me!"

I turned and Lou and I walked
away. Before  we had gone three steps she had shut the door. And hard.

"So, what do you think, Lou?
About the murder, I mean?"

"I think the two neighbors
were in on it together. They'll split the money they get from Portwood's will
and live happily ever after."

"Is that the reason both of
them said they saw the other one going to or coming from Portwood's on Saturday
night?"

"Absolutely! That way it cuts
down on the lies each of them was telling."

"Let's go next door and see
if the house can tell us something."

The two houses weren't more than a
hundred feet from each other, separated by Portwood's driveway. Lou and I
walked across the yard and went around back to where Herb had told us he had
left the key. It was time to see if the house could talk.          

It was after
4:00
before we checked Portwood's house. I didn't want to
spend much time there because it gets dark early in November.

I unlocked the door and Lou and I
walked inside. Portwood hadn't been dead long enough for the place to smell
musty. The first place I wanted to look was the garage. Because the coroner
deemed Portwood's death an accident, the author's car was still there. I didn't
think it would do me any good to have someone come and dust for prints. If
either neighbor had killed Portwood, they could say they had been in the car
many times. If he had been poisoned in
Frankfort
, it was doubtful the murderer had been in the dead man's
car. Actually Portwood had two vehicles in the garage, and neither one was
actually a car. One was a van, the other an SUV. I'd have to call Herb to find
out in which one they found him, but my guess is it was the van. It was parked
closer to the kitchen door. Lou and I looked over both vehicles carefully and
didn't find a note of confession or anything else that would tell us who
murdered him. I went to the kitchen door and checked to see if a light was
needed to see inside the van with the garage door closed in the daytime. There
wasn't a lot of light coming from the house, but enough to tell whether or not
someone was behind the wheel of the vehicle. 

We went back inside and took a few
minutes to look around the house. We looked through his desk and bedroom
drawers but found no other journals, and the few minutes I took to check out
his computer didn't turn up anything. I wanted to check one more place before
we left.

"Lou, shall we gather at the
river?"

"Let us gather with the
saints at the river."

We walked back to the front door.
I turned to make one more perusal of the house, and then we left. I locked up
and returned the key to Portwood's hiding place, which I assumed was known by
everyone who knew him. It wasn't that long of a jaunt to the river and the
ground was fairly level. It was a warm day for November, so my lightweight
jacket felt just right. It took us only a couple of minutes to get there. I saw
no evidence that a boat had been docked there recently, and I walked up and
down the area and found no footprints. I didn't expect to find anything in the
grass, but if someone had stepped into the mud between the river and the grass,
whoever it was would have left footprints. There were none. I doubted if the
murderer flew in by helicopter. Whoever killed Portwood was probably at home,
either in or near
Frankfort
or Lawrenceburg, or just outside
of
Westport
. I still had more people to talk
to and maybe some people to talk to again after that.

+++

There was no one else nearby, so
there was no trouble talking about what we knew or didn't know.

"Remember today's clue, Lou.
Somebody's lying. So, who is it? We've only talked to three people today; Jake
Cartwright, Bob Barney, and Millie Longacre."

"Four if you count Bill Noel.
Five if you count Herb Wainscott."

"Noel didn't sound nervous on
the phone. So, it must have been Herb. Now, which one of the other three was
lying to us?"

"So you think two of them
were telling the truth?"

"Not necessarily. But if only
one of them was lying my guess would be Millie Longacre. She sounded the most
nervous."

"I would agree. But things
are never what they seem. So you think Herb came out and poisoned Portwood and
cut the car off?"

"Maybe there was more to that
next-door neighbor romance than Barney let on. Maybe he was jealous, knew that
Portwood had a lot of money and planned to move in on Millie Longacre after she
inherited all of his money."

"But we know she doesn't
inherit most of it."

"But does Barney know
that?"

"So does that mean that
you've eliminated Cartwright and figure he and Portwood were just buddies who
would never hurt each other?"

"No, he's still on the list,
too. It's too early to take anyone off the list."

"It's not that early. See,
it's starting to get dark."

"Which means you and I need
to hightail back to Lightning and get out of here."

+++

We walked back to Lightning,
checked our shoes for mud, and got in when we didn't find any.

"Well, Lou, let's head back
to
Frankfort
. I'm ready to rest until
tomorrow."

I backed Lightning out of
Portwood's driveway, and had Lou check to see if either of the neighbors were
waving goodbye to us. Seeing no one bidding us a fond farewell or offering a
last-minute invitation to an early supper, we headed off into the sunset.
Actually, the sunset would be behind us, but things had clouded up enough that
I saw no sun.

We had gone a couple of miles when
Lightning coughed, sputtered, and crawled to a stop. I looked. The gauge said I
had plenty of gas. I tried to get Lightning going again, but to no avail. I
looked at Lou and he pointed to my left. We were in luck. We had come to a stop
right in front of someone's house, and there was a little old lady wearing a
cardigan sweater that more than likely she had knitted herself. It wasn't
buttoned, so I figured she was a tough old gal, since it had started to get a
little chilly when the wind picked up as we were walking back from the river to
Lightning. The old gal was sitting on the porch in a rocking chair, smoking a
pipe, rocking back and forth. I rolled down my window and was about to say
something to her.

"You can't park there."

"We're not parked. My car
quit on me."

"You'd better move it. Elmer
won't like it."

"We can't move it. It quit.
It won't run."

"You better push it, then,
because Elmer won't like it."

"Do you have a phone I can
use?"

"Ain't got no phone. No use
for one."

"Well, how about a car?"

"Ain't got one of them,
either. Sudie comes and takes me to the grocery once a month, and to the doctor
when I need it."

"Well, who can help us. We're
cops, and we're working on a case."

"Bull!"

"No, seriously, I can show
you my credentials."

"BULL!"

The last thing I heard was the old
lady say was, "No, Elmer!"

I managed to glance over just
before the bull hit Lightning broadside, on Lou's side of the car. It was the
last thing I remembered.

+++

I don't know how long I was out,
but when I woke up it was dark. I hurt all over, but mostly on my left side,
where I probably crashed into the door. I didn't think I had any broken bones.
Lightning was lying on her side, which meant that I was in an awkward position,
lying on my side. My window must have smashed when Lightning tipped over, but
the pieces were still intact. I looked up and read the note fastened to the
windshield.

"I told you Elmer wouldn't
like it!"

I couldn't believe that Lou and I
had survived being broadsided by a bull. I didn't know that Lou was okay until
I felt a pain coming from my arm. It was Lou's foot. He was trying to climb out
the top of the car. Well, it used to be the side, but with Lightning on her
side it was now the top. In a matter of hours, he had extricated himself from
the car, was sitting on what was left of the door, and stuck his hand in to
help me get out. I looked around for a crane to help me out instead, but when I
didn't see one I stuck my hand up to Lou. He had cuts on his face, but luckily
he wasn't bleeding and nothing had hit him in the eye. The glass from his
window was scattered all over the car, but mostly on my side, which had become
the bottom of the car. None of the pieces of glass had hit me, but I didn't
want to cut myself getting out of the car. I stuck my hand up to Lou, and it
hurt when he took it and pulled on it.

"Cy, it will work much better
if you unbuckle your seatbelt first."

I did, but it hurt to do that,
too. Before too many days had passed both of us were out of the car, looking
around at a dreary world. The woman was no longer sitting on the porch. I
thought it would have been too cold for her to do so at night, but then most
women I know don't smoke pipes, either. Besides, it had been a pleasant day for
November, sunny and in the mid-60s until not long before Lightning was
bull-sided. I turned and looked at Lightning. She was thoroughly dented. I
couldn't figure out how Lou and I had survived with no more injuries than we
had. I  was surprised that the bull had walked away. He must have. I didn't
think the old woman could have carried him off and buried him. Or sliced him up
for supper that quickly.