Murder at the Book Fair (20 page)

"Okay, be careful coming
home."

I pushed the button to end the
call. I spent a few minutes getting nowhere on the case and then went to bed.

Lou and I had decided to let the
rooster wake us the next morning, and it takes the rooster a while to get all
the way up to the eighth floor at the Capital Plaza Hotel. It didn't take the
maid quite that long, so even though I hung out a Do Not Disturb sign, the
noises in the hall woke me before I was ready. An hour later I went and knocked
on Lou's door. We decided to eat breakfast in the hotel, and then check out and
head for home. We carted everything down in the elevator, and packed up the van.

One thing I liked about my new van
was its roominess. Another thing was the Sirius XM Radio. It would only be free
for a short time, but I had already decided that when it came time to pay for
it or give it up I was keeping it. Singing to the tunes on the radio made the
trip home seem shorter. I had no problem singing and asking Lou to get off my
cloud, and that I couldn't get no satisfaction, and he sang the same thing back
to me. But I never looked at him when they played a love song. I tried my best
to sound like Herman's Hermits when I sang
Leaning on the Lamppost
and
like Elvis when I sang along with
In the Ghetto.
I wasn't as good at
mimicking the Dave Clark Five's
Over and Over
, and Blood, Sweat, &
Tears
Spinning Wheel.
We were just getting back to the Dave Clark Five
with
Catch Us If You Can
as we entered Hilldale and I saw flashing
lights in the rearview mirror. I pulled over and a few seconds later George
walked up to my door.

"I caught you going
twenty-six in a twenty-five mile an hour zone, but I'm willing to drop that
charge because grand theft auto comes with a longer sentence. Cy, where did you
steal this thing?"

I took a few minutes to share with
George about Lightning's ordeal, and he assured me that if he had been Catholic
he would have said a few Hail Marys and Our Fathers, and if he had been Irish
Catholic he would have come to the wake for Lightning. 

"You're in luck, George.
We're going to have a celebration service instead."

"When is it?"

"Tomorrow after church."

"I'm sorry I've already made
an appointment to have my hair dyed."

"I don't know anyone else
who's had their hair dyed, but I know a few that their hair ran away. Has
anyone else died?"

"No, but a few have run away.
They're not dying here quite as often these days, now that we've raised our
standards for employment."

"I'm sorry to hear that
you'll be losing your job. But you can come and hang out with Lou and me. How
are you at cornhole and miniature golf?"

"Never played either, which
means I shouldn't have any trouble beating the likes of you."

"You beat the likes of me and
I'll have you arrested for assault and battery."

I could have continued, but I had
things I wanted to do, so I told George goodbye and wished him luck with his
retirement.

I dropped Lou off at his place. He
went around and told the old ladies in his building that he was sorry he missed
their last cornhole tournament, but that he would be back to stay soon. The
other three women in his building were happy to hear that. First of all, it's
hard to play cornhole with three people. And Lou was a man and was better than
any of those older women, so all of them wanted to be on Lou's side.

I didn't plan to waste my
afternoon, so I called and had a pizza delivered and then headed to the
computer to see what I could find out about any of our suspects. The going was
slow until I got to Facebook. And it was even slow there when I typed in the
names of my best suspects. It didn't surprise me that neither Millie Longacre
or Bob Barney were on Facebook. Neither was Bert McHugh. But Dan Grimes was, as
well as the four authors. Portwood and Cartwright were Facebook friends, and so
were Lori Wildwood and Jonnetta Jarvis, although I suspect theirs was a recent
friendship. But Portwood and Grimes weren't Facebook friends, which made sense,
because Grimes said they didn't know each other all that well. And there were
no other combinations of Facebook friends. I read Portwood's, Cartwright's, and
Grimes's posts, which didn't take long, because from what I could tell none of the
three spent much time on Facebook.

It was a little different with
Lori Wildwood and Jonnetta Jarvis. Since Lori had been writing longer, I
started with her. I checked and saw no posts between the two authors prior to
the day after the book fair. I looked over Lori's posts and found several who
commented on how much they liked her newest book. I jotted down their names. I
didn't see anything out of line for an author, so I switched to read the posts
on Jonnetta's page. Friends were congratulating her on her book, and some
commented about getting it at the Kentucky Book Fair, and reading it and loving
it. I noticed that three of those people were ones who also posted about
getting Lori Wildwood's books. I sent the three living authors a friend request
and both women accepted it immediately. Then I chose one of the women who had
bought books written by both authors and sent her an instant message telling
her that I too bought books at the book fair from both of those authors. She
responded by telling me that she also bought books from some of the other
mystery authors, and I told her I did too, but cut off the conversation because
I realized she wouldn't be able to help me. I wanted to find someone who bought
from only those two women. So, I moved on to another friend of both of the
authors. She responded within a couple of minutes. I like it when I want to
contact someone and they are available. She told me a friend recommended both
authors, and I asked her if she would be willing to give me her phone number so
I could talk to her about it. I think she must have checked on me first,
because it was a few minutes before she responded. When she sent me her number,
I called her immediately and introduced myself.

"I'm curious as to which
friend recommended the books to you because a friend recommended both authors
to me, too."

I don't usually lie, unless it
helps me solve a murder case, so I was hoping that God would forgive me for
that.

"Was it either Cyril Portwood
or Dan Grimes who recommended you?"  I asked her.

"I don't think so, but I've
heard that one name somewhere."

"Which one?"

"The Portwood guy."

"He's a mystery author."

"Oh, yeah, he was the guy at
their table, wasn't he?"

"That's right. How come you
don't know who told you about the books?"

"Because I only know him by
his nickname.
Georgetown
. We were talking one day and the
subject got around to me going to attend the book fair, and he asked me if I
liked mysteries. I told him I did, and he said he was trying to help out a
couple of new authors. He asked me if he paid for the books if I would being
willing to buy them and read them. I told him yes, but that he didn't have to
pay me. He asked if I had any friends who like mysteries, and when I told him I
did he told me he would be willing to pay for my friends to buy those books,
too. He said he wanted these two women to get off to a good start and he was
willing to help them to the tune of two hundred dollars."

"Really?"

I was sure that the man who told
her was either Portwood or Grimes, so I described both men to her.

"No, he doesn't look anything
like either of them. He's a big guy, and he slicks his hair down with something
that looks like hair oil, the way my mom said some men used to do, back in the
day. Anyway, he runs a combo small grocery and deli downtown, and he's a real
nice guy, so I pop in there once or twice a week for lunch, since I work near
there."

I asked her where the deli was
located and she gave me the address. I planned to check him out when I got back
to
Frankfort
. Maybe he was a go-between for
Portwood or Grimes.

"Do you know if the authors
know he paid people to buy their books?"

"He told me they didn't, and
he didn't want me telling them. He wanted them to think that people are
interested in their books."

"Did he write their names down
for you?"

"He already had a typewritten
sheet, asked me to cut it up and give copies to my friends, too, so all of us
would buy from the same two authors."

I thanked her for her time. The
other woman on my list had her phone number on her Facebook page, so I called
her. Her answers matched the first lady, except that she remembered who
Portwood was, but had never read any of his books. She said she mainly read
women authors.

After I hung up from talking to
her I checked to see if the two women I talked to were Facebook friends. They
weren't, so I doubted if they knew each other, since both of them had a lot of
Facebook friends. I then Googled Georgetown and the only match I got was for
Georgetown
's Market & Deli. There was no
picture of the guy, but the address was the same as the one the first woman had
given me. So far I hadn't connected him to Portwood, Grimes, or anyone else
that was connected with the case, so I wasn't sure if it would lead somewhere
or would be a dead-end, like most of my hunches.

I made another call, hoping to
find out something that would help me solve the case in my lifetime.

"This is Jake Cartwright.
America
's foremost author."

"And this is Lt. Dekker.
America
's foremost detective."

"You calling about my books
or Cereal's murder?"

"Let's say it has more to do
with the murder. Do you know a guy named Dan Grimes?"

"No. Should I? Does he write
books? I've heard of Martha Grimes. She writes mysteries. But I don't know any
Dan Grimes."

"I'm familiar with Martha
Grimes. I've read some of her books. But Dan Grimes isn't an author. He
promotes authors. So, you're saying he's never contacted you about promoting
you as an author?"

"No. I've never had anyone
call me, except a couple of small publishing houses that were interested in
printing my books. I like my current set-up, so I always turned them down. Some
of them I've gotten to know better since I first talked to them, but I don't
remember talking to a guy named Grimes."

"Do you know how well
Portwood knew him?"

"You're still talking about
this Grimes guy?"

"That's right."

"As far as I know, Cereal
didn't know him."

"You never saw him at the
book fair."

"I couldn't tell you that. A
lot of people come to the book fair. Can you shoot me a picture of him?"

"Go to Facebook. Type in his
name."

"Hold on a minute. Let me get
my laptop."

A couple of minutes later, he came
back.

"I looked at him. He looked
vaguely familiar, but I don't think I've seen him lately. Do you think he's
your murderer?"

"Not unless he can kill
someone from
Indiana
."

"I wanted to kill someone
from
Indiana
once."

"I mean he was in
Indiana
at the time Portwood was
murdered."

"Maybe it was a really
slow-acting poison."

"Could be. But I don't think
it was that slow. My guy tells me Portwood was probably poisoned on Saturday,
but it could have been Friday. So far you're my best suspect."

"I plead the fifth. I know a
guy who was in
Texas
over the weekend. Maybe he did
it."

"I've got him on my list.
That's all I needed to know this time. I'll call you again when I need you, or
stop by when I'm ready to arrest you."

"Call me first. I want to get
cleaned up before you get here."

"Maybe I'll just use you as a
source of information."    "I'll have my thinking cap on."

+++

It wasn't until I hung up from
talking to Jake Cartwright that I remembered that I had forgotten to check on
Dan Grimes's whereabouts over the weekend. I went to his Facebook page and
clicked on his photos. Someone had uploaded lots of photos for the wedding that
Grimes was supposed to have attended. Evidently he had attended the wedding,
because he was in a few of the photos at someone's house, and at the wedding
reception. There was even one of him in the background as the bride and groom
walked down the aisle after they were pronounced husband and wife. And the
wedding was at
2:00
on Saturday.