Murder at the Book Fair (8 page)

"But if the lawyer murdered
him, wouldn't he be more likely to say that they didn't get together?"

"I don't know. Lawyers are
smart guys. If McHugh murdered him, he knows that he didn't poison Portwood at
lunch on Friday. Frank said the earliest he was poisoned was late Friday
afternoon. Let's check that diner where he says they had lunch and see if they
remember Portwood and McHugh."

We had two rooms at the Capital
Plaza Hotel, so we weren't going back to Hilldale. That meant we had time to
talk to more people. I wanted to clear this up and get back to retirement. I
took out my cell phone and called the three women Mrs. Crowe had told us about.
Diana Munson was able to answer my question on the phone. She did remember
seeing Portwood when he came down in the elevator. He stopped and talked to her
for a couple of minutes. Because of that she remembered that no one rode down
with him, and he didn't seem like he was upset about anything. He was ready to
enjoy another authors' reception and to visit with some of his friends he
hadn't seen in a while.

Connie Crowe had already given
both of the other two women a heads up that we might call, so they were ready.
As it turned out, the two women were sisters and were willing to meet us
together if that was okay with us. It was, and we did. I didn't think the two
of them murdered Portwood for his $50,000. Besides, maybe the money had nothing
to do with Portwood's murder. Fifty thousand dollars is a whole lot less than
vast millions. Why settle for chump change when you can have it all?

As soon as I saw the two women it
was obvious they were sisters. Since I was taking everything in order, I
questioned Miss Luscher first, although Mrs. Smith said she was there too when
Portwood dropped off his books. Both said that Portwood seemed excited to be
there, like always, and they weren't aware that anything was bothering him.
They said Portwood checked in his books and stayed and chatted with them for a
few minutes. During that time, Portwood's good friend and chief rival, Jake
Cartwright, brought in his books. I asked the sisters how well the two authors
got along and both of them agreed that they were friends, but that both of them
tried to get the best of each other. Each wanted to outsell the other.
Cartwright seemed content if he sold more books than Portwood, but not only did
Portwood want to sell more books than his friend, but he wanted to finish in
the top ten of all authors at the event. I didn't hear the results, but I felt
the four celebrities who were there were the top four selling authors. I
figured Portwood's best chance at fame was coming in fifth.

I informed both women that Lou and
I attended the Book Fair for the first time, and that we liked mysteries and
bought an equal amount of both men's books. They laughed.

I asked if Portwood had a rivalry
going with anyone else, but neither of them were aware of it if that was the
case. Miss Luscher and Mrs. Smith agreed that both authors were likeable, and
Portwood had quite a gift of gab.

I informed the two sisters that it
was possible that Portwood was murdered at the KBF, because the autopsy report
showed that he was poisoned between late Friday afternoon and sometime Saturday
night. The odds were not good that someone accosted him or gave him something
to drink in his room before breakfast, so the murder might have happened at the
event. I asked them if either of them noticed anything out of the ordinary.
Neither knew of anything, but Mrs. Smith told me that the volunteers who spent
a great deal of time roaming up and down the author rows would have a better
idea. She recommended that I call Arnold and Susie Hammond, who knew Portwood
quite well and worked the row on which he sat.

Both women told me that Portwood
and Cartwright walked out together after leaving their books on Thursday
morning, but they had no idea if they went their separate ways or not. Also,
each author who delivers his or her own books checks them out after the event
is over, so the KBF will know how much they owe the author. Miss Luscher
checked out both men before they left on Saturday, and she said they checked
out about the same time and were among the last authors to leave. She guessed
that both left around
5:00
. Both women said they walked by
Portwood's table during the event, and that he was busy signing books and
seemed at ease. And Cartwright seemed to be having a good time, too. Neither
could give me any idea of who else to talk to except for Cartwright and the
Hammonds, but suggested I might check the seating chart and check with those
who sat at Portwood's table, or across from him. I had already planned to do
both, provided I didn't get a confession beforehand. They gave me addresses and
phone numbers for Cartwright and the
Hammonds
and it was convenient that both the author and the husband and wife
volunteer team lived in
Anderson
County
. I didn't expect it to lead anywhere, but I did ask the
two sisters if they had any knowledge about $50,000 Portwood had given to
someone. I'm not sure if either knew how wealthy Portwood was. I wondered if
Miss Luscher would have proposed marriage if she had known.

+++

"Well, Lou, what do you
think?"

"I think that it must be
those two sisters. Did you see how innocent they looked?"

"So, you think they were in
on it together?"

"That's the part I'm not sure
about."

"So, what do you really think?"

"That we aren't as retired as
I thought we were. And that we still have a lot of people to talk to.
Everywhere we go we add another name to our list. So, what do you think we
should do now, Cy?"

"It's still a little too
early to eat, so I think this would be a good time to tackle the brother and
sister. So far everyone we've talked to appeared to have liked Portwood. We
know that isn't true of his brother and sister. I want to see what they say.
Then, maybe tomorrow we'll head over to
Anderson
County
and then on up to where Portwood
lived. Maybe we can eat lunch with Herb Wainscott and then go pay a visit to
Portwood's two neighbors. Maybe Portwood and the girlfriend had a falling out.
And it could be that all the time we're spending on this book fair stuff will
be wasted. So, let's go visit the brother and sister. They live together. Let's
see what they have to say and then come back downtown for dinner. I hear that
Serafini's is as good of a place to eat as there is around here. That's where
Portwood was supposed to have gone on Wednesday night."

It didn't take me long to find out
that we didn't have to travel far to talk to Archie and Hazel Portwood. In a
matter of a few minutes we pulled up in front of a small, older home on a hill
near downtown. We didn't call ahead. We didn't want to give them time to put a
story together. I walked up the steps and knocked on a wooden screen door that
looked like its best years were behind it. A few seconds later a woman
somewhere near my age opened the door.

"Yes?"

"Are you Hazel
Portwood?"

"Who might you be?"

I decided to use my official name,
since we were given this gig by a cop.

"I'm Lt. Dekker. This is Sgt.
Murdock. We're here on a police matter. Is your brother at home?"

Instead of answering me, she turned
and hollered.

"Archie. It's for you."

"Actually, we're here to talk
to both of you. May we come in?"

"Oh, I guess so. I don't know
why you want to talk to us. We've never caused no problems for nobody."

She turned and shuffled back to
the chair I assumed she occupied before I knocked. We walked in and were
offered seats on the couch. I touched down just short of hitting the wooden
floor. I assumed at one time there was more support in the cushion. Lou saw my
dilemma and walked over and sat on a scarred wooden rocker instead. It didn't
fall apart when he sat down.

I was still trying to get as
comfortable as possible, when Mr. Manners walked in.

"What do you want?"

"To talk to you and your
sister. Please have a seat."

I thought about directing him to
the other end of the couch, so that if he turned out to be the guilty party Lou
would be able to rise up off his rocker and slap the cuffs on the guilty party
before he could rise up out of the nether regions of the couch, but I decided
to let him sit wherever he wanted. He opted for another wooden chair, situated
where he could make eye contact with his sister if necessary. I hated to be
seated lower than everyone else, but looked at Archie Portwood when he
continued his pleasant greeting.

"Neither of us has done
nothing wrong."

"Then all we'll do is talk
and then leave. Can you tell me where the two of you were last Saturday?"

"Last Saturday?"

"Yeah the one three days
ago."

"Where was we Hazel?"

"Let's see."

"If it helps, I can tell you
it was the day of the Kentucky Book Fair."

"Oh, yeah! That's where we
was. We always go to it. Buy a few books."

"Buy any from Cyril?"

"Is that what this is about?
He saying we stole some of his books. If he had gave us some of Mom's money
Hazel wouldn't have to be a maid and I wouldn't have to be a night
watchman."

"I thought your mother left
you some money."

"Oh, she did, but not as much
as she did Cyril. Ours didn't last as long. He still has plenty of it, and he
didn't work a lick to earn a penny of it."

"And when you went to see him
after you ran through what your mother gave you he didn't give you any
more?"

"That's right. He tell you
that? Was he smiling when he told you?"

"Actually your name didn't
come up when we talked."

"That don't surprise me. He
acts like we don't exist."

"So, I take it that you and
your brother aren't close."

I wasn't prepared for the shriek
of laughter that emerged from Hazel Portwood. I held on to the couch arm to
keep from sliding the rest of the way to the floor.

"That tightwad wouldn't give
us a dime."

"The way I heard it he wanted
to give you more than that. He wanted to leave you each a dollar in his
will."

"That sounds like him. I hope
he croaks soon."

"I'm afraid he has already
croaked."

"He looked fine on Saturday.
Well, I mean as good as he can look. He didn't exactly get the looks in the
family."

To my way of thinking that meant
there were other family members I hadn't met, because I figured Portwood looked
as good dead as his brother and sister looked alive. But instead of commenting
I gave her an update on her brother.

"He didn't look as good on
Sunday."

"You mean he's dead?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Are you serious?"

"Dead serious."

"Archie, can you call in sick
tonight. I'm thinking about throwing a party."

"I can see how broken up the
two of you are."

"Did he leave us
anything?"

"Will that determine how big
of a party you'll throw?"

"No, it'll just be me and
Hazel, " Archie said, getting excited.

"I think I'll leave it up to
the lawyer to let you know whether or not he left you something. He might call
you about the reading of the will."

"You ain't here expecting us
to pony up for the funeral, are you? He had enough money to take care of that,
and a whole lot more."

"I think the funeral is taken
care of, and you can check if you are interested in attending the
funeral."

"What do you think, Hazel?
Should we go to the funeral and look at him dead?"

"No. He probably told them to
fix him so that he'd be sticking his tongue out."

I decided to interrupt the two
siblings fond memories of their dearly departed brother.

"Aren't you even curious as
to when he died, or how?"

"Not really, but you can tell
us. I guess that's why you came. Besides, you already said it was Sunday."

"No, he died Saturday. At the
Book Fair. He was poisoned. And you already admitted you were there."

"Hey, now, I didn't put
nothing on that sandwich. I wanted to, but I didn't. I thought about spitting
on it, but I didn't."

"And I didn't put nothing in
his water. Scout's honor," her brother chimed in.

"Were you ever a scout?"

"No, but I've heard people
say that."

"So, why are you here? You
don't think we had anything to do with it?"

"Money can do strange things
to people. Especially if they might inherit."