Murder at the Book Fair (5 page)

"And I like it that way.
Peaceful."

"What can I say? Potential
murderers like a challenge. They don't feel they have one now that Lou and I
are retired."

"I'll be sure and tell Dan
and Heather that. So, why are you calling me, other than to give me
indigestion?"

"That's the only reason I
called. Just to give you indigestion."

"But the only way you can do
that is by making me go out and pick up a body. You can't do that
anymore."

"You're right, Frank. And
this body will be delivered to you."

"What are you talking
about?"

I explained to him about Herb
Wainscott's phone call. And told him he would be paid for his time. He offered
to do it for free, but I told him there was enough money allocated for the
autopsy that he could name his own price. He said he would only do that if I
were paying.

+++

"So, they called?"

"Who called, Lou?"

"Whoever it was who was
reporting a murder."

"Okay, someone called."

"Who was it?"

"Herb Wainscott."

"The guy we went to school
with?"

"One and the same."

"I thought he was a sheriff
or something in western
Kentucky
somewhere."

"Actually, he's in
Oldham
County
, which is somewhere up on the
Ohio River
."

"Why did he call you? Has
someone threatened him?"

"No. He has a possible
murder, which you and I know is definitely a murder, since God has already
given you your message."

"So, why did he call
you
?"

"Because the coroner down
there said it wasn't murder and Herb wants to make sure."

"You didn't tell him we
already knew, did you?"

"No, Lou. Not everyone
understands your gift."

"So, who got murdered?"

"Cyril Portwood."

"I mean really. Not in some
book. Besides, he's the one who writes the murders, not the victim."

"This time he was the
victim."

"No way! Cyril Portwood? The
author we met at the book fair?"

"One and the same, and now
his book is closed."

"So, do you think it was the
author at the next table?"

"I don't know. I haven't
interrogated all of the suspects yet."

"So, why did Herb call us.
Shouldn't he have called Frank?"

"I guess he should have
called Frank. But I called Frank instead. And you and I won't be called in
until after Frank does the autopsy. And the body won't get here until tomorrow.
So, we're retired for a couple more days."

"So dust those cobwebs off
your brain so we can get back to retired soon. I'm sure you told him we'd help
him out."

"Of course."

"So, where are the
suspects?"

"I don't know yet. I don't
even know where he was murdered. Maybe it was at the book fair after you and I
left his table. Maybe we left too soon. No, from what I could gather from Herb
when he got back home he pulled into his garage and died. We'll find out after
we get Frank's autopsy report. So, go back to your book and I'll pick up mine.
We'll solve a murder as practice." 

+++

With my phone calls done, I walked
over to where I had set the books I bought at the book fair. I rummaged through
the stack until I found one of Cyril Portwood's books. I glanced at it, then
turned and read his profile. According to it, Cyril Portwood lived out in the
country near
Westport
,
Kentucky
. I had no idea where
Westport
was so I headed to my computer to consult GoogleMaps.
Westport
was west of me, but east of
Louisville
, on the
Ohio River
. If things went the way I was
expecting them to go, then Lou and I would soon discover a part of
Kentucky
that we haven't visited. If we
come out of retirement enough, maybe someday we will have visited all one
hundred and twenty of
Kentucky
's counties.

+++

Col. Portwood's body rolled in
late Monday morning without fanfare. Frank called me to let me know and
promised me that he was getting ready to get on it and he should be able to
tell me something that night.

"And Cy, there's a journal
here. Do you know anything about that?"

"Yeah, I'm supposed to read
it. I'll drive over in a few minutes and pick it up. Leave it somewhere that
smells better than the place you'll be."

"So, that means you don't
want me to deliver it to you?"

'No, just get my body done."

"Cy, I don't plan to do
anything to your body, but I do agree that you are a piece of work."

"I've adjusted to being
smarter and better looking than the other guys, so I'm used to running into you
jealous types."

"Cy, remind me to get you a
mirror for Christmas and to pay for an examination by a neurologist."

I picked up the journal from
Frank, and headed back home. I was sure that Portwood had been murdered, so I
wasn't going to wait for Frank's call to start reading it. I walked into the
house and over to the recliner, Portwood's journal in my hand. I plopped down
to read it. It didn't take long. It wasn't long enough to be a novel. I wasn't
sure if it was long enough to be a short story. The whole thing consisted of
four days. The first entry was on Tuesday, the day Portwood left for the book
fair. The last entry was on Friday, although it talked about what would happen
on Saturday. There was nothing in there that pointed a finger at anyone.
Nothing that said he feared for his life. Maybe he was afraid of someone he had
planned to see last week, or maybe Millie Longacre was mistaken or lying. Or
maybe I was missing something, like missing pages in a journal. But then no
pages appeared to have been torn out.

I called Lou, told him I would
drop off the journal in a few minutes and told him it wasn't long enough to
bore him. It was a warm day considering it was November, so when I got back
from Lou's I trotted out back and practiced pitching cornhole bags.

A few minutes later I heard my
house phone ring and rushed in to take Lou's call. Even though we both received
cell phones as part of our retirement gifts, we still rely on our house phone
to call each other. Some habits are hard to break.

"Finished already?"

"Yeah. The janitor did
it."

"There wasn't a janitor
mentioned."

"You had to read between the
lines to find out about him."

"You ready to solve this
thing?"

"You aren't going to wait on
Frank to tell us there has been a murder?"

"Do you have any
doubts?"

"No."

"Then are you ready to solve
this thing?"

"If I say 'no', does that
mean you'll go alone?"

"No, I'll call Heather."

"What about Jennifer?"

"Jennifer doesn't have any
experience solving murders."

"Neither does Heather. There
hasn't been a murder in Hilldale since she and Dan took over."

"Maybe they're not looking in
the right places for the bodies. Now, are you ready to head to
Frankfort
tomorrow?"

"I guess so. I'll have to
find someone to feed my cat."

"You'll have to get a cat
first."

"They're too much trouble.
Maybe I'll get a dog first and find someone to walk my dog."

"You work on that when we get
back. You up to packing a bag?"

"Why? Are we going back to
Gatlinburg after we solve the murder?"

"No, I don't know how long it
will take us in
Frankfort
, and how many people we need to
talk to there. There's Portwood's lawyer, and Portwood's brother and sister.
And since there was a good chance he was murdered at the book fair, I want to
talk to people who were there. Those in charge and other authors. So we might
stay there and talk to all those people and then head on to that place Portwood
is from. You know it's well over two hours from here, don't you?"

"Most places are more than
two hours from here.  And it's going to take more than a few hours if we talk
to all two hundred authors. See you tomorrow, and you're driving this
time."

"Fine. And we won't talk to
all the other authors. Authors who write children's books usually aren't
murderers. Look at Aileen Stewart. I doubt if she would kill an ant. We'll
probably narrow it down to the ones who were near Portwood. I've already
trimmed Lynwood Montell from my suspects list."

"What about Bill Noel?"

"I think I'll leave him on
there for a while. He can't say he was in on or around Folly when it
happened."

"What kind of a fool names an
island Folly anyway?"

+++

I was enjoying my last peaceful
evening for a while when Frank called.

"Cy. Frank. I didn't wake
you, did I?"

"No, I just got through
instructing my assistant as to the proper way to peel my grapes. So, what's the
verdict?"

"The verdict is guilty, but
it will be up to you to find out who's guilty."

"So, he didn't die of carbon
monoxide poisoning?"

"Well, he did and he
didn't."

"You mean he was bleeding
from a gunshot wound when he keeled over from the poisonous gas?"

"Something like that. See, he
died from carbon monoxide, but if that hadn't gotten him another poison in his
body would have taken care of him. Someone certainly wanted to hasten his
demise. And not only was he given a slow-acting poison, but he was given a mild
sedative, too. The sedative didn't have anything to do with his death, but it
would have made him sleepy eventually.  If it happened in his garage, he might
have gone to sleep before the carbon monoxide did its thing. All I can tell you
is that the body wasn't moved after death. Wherever he was found was where he
died."

"So when was the poison
administered, and how?"

"I can only guess at the
first, but the second was in some kind of food or drink. If I had gotten him
sooner I could be more accurate. All I can say is that it could have been
sometime Friday night, but more than likely it was between breakfast on
Saturday morning and sometime Saturday night, and it was given to him in
something he ingested and digested. Food or drink, not medication."

"I guess that means Lou and I
are suspects. We saw him on Saturday."

"You question Lou and have
him question you. Either you can find the murderer quickly, or eliminate two of
the suspects."

"And that will narrow it down
to four thousand or so others."

"Cy, you should become a
medical examiner. The gunshot wounds and knifings are easy. And you can always
guess at the other stuff. You don't have a problem seeing internal organs and
sniffing smells that would turn a skunk away, do you?"

"No. Lou has ridden in my car."

"I'll tell him you said that.
And I didn't know you've seen Lou's internal organs."

"Just one of them. I can't
remember if it's a Wurlitzer or a Yahama."

"You need to take up playing
the bagpipes and the accordion, so you can offend more people."

"You mean you haven't bought
any of my CDs?"

"I need to talk to someone
more intelligent. I'm going back to the corpse."

I hung up and called Lou.

"Lou, it's official now.
We're going back to work."

"You mean Dan and Heather
quit already."

"No, I mean Frank called. It
was murder. Someone poisoned Portwood."

"I hate it when my Portwood
has been poisoned."

"Am I going to have to put up
with you for the next few days?"

"Are we going through this
again?"

"No. Let's leave early so we
can get a good bit done tomorrow."

"Maybe we won't have to.
Maybe the first person we see will confess."

"Has that ever happened
before?"

"No, but this is only our
second murder since we retired. Maybe the guilty are turning over a new
leaf."