Murder in a Basket (An India Hayes Mystery) (8 page)

It was already after eight in the evening when Zach and I arrived at my mother’s big brick Presbyterian
church on the town square. As was tradition the Friday before Halloween, the church held its annual Fall Family Fling. The party was set to end at nine, and I debated skipping it altogether, but I decided in the long run it would require more energy to explain myself to my mother for not showing than to go.

I went to the basement of the church where the fellowship hall was located. Zach nosed the floor on every third step. Outside the fellowship hall, a large easel stood by the open doors. Zach and I paused to take it in. It was a poster asking for recruits to bear arms as part of the bell tower crusade. An
eight-by-ten photo of the tower was pasted to the middle of the poster board with the question, “Do you want to lose part of your heritage?” I looked down at Zach, and we shared an eye roll.

I peeked into the room. My mother was in middle of the activity. Her long gray ponytail swayed excitedly back and forth as she made the rounds, asking the sick about their health, the young about school, and the married about their families. She always knew the best angle necessary to connect with each person. She’d give the best
baby-kissing politician a run for his money. In addition to the usual church members and families from the neighborhood, the fellowship hall also contained members of my parents’ bell-saving brigade. They were easy to pick out. Think “hippie meets hip replacement surgery.”

Even though she was in the middle
of trying to save the Founders’ Festival from complete ruin, Carmen and her family were there. She and Chip, each with a baby daughter in their laps, sat with another couple from the church at one of the dozen or so round tables peppered throughout the room. A chrysanthemum sat in the middle of each table.

We stepped into the room. Instantly,
the children, including my five-year-old nephew Nicholas, who was a mini version of his father, were at my feet petting Zach. “A dog!” they cried.

Across the hall, Mom folded her arms across her chest. As far as I knew there was no rule in the Presbyterian decrees
that you couldn’t bring a dog into a church building, but the look on my mother’s face told me she thought there should be. A parishioner mercifully blocked her path for a chat as she made her way over to me.

I pulled on Zach’s leash, feeling a little bit like the Pied Piper as I led Zach’s fan club to a corner of the room, near the table of carved pumpkins. The pumpkins waited to be judged for the jack-o
’-lantern-making contest, a contest I used to win every year until I was too old to enter. The age was capped at twelve. I tied Zach’s leash to one of the legs of the long cafeteria-style table.

“
Can you guys watch him for me?” I asked.

“
Yeah,” was the proclamation, and the kids knelt next to Zach and continued their petting and hugging of him.

“
Okay,” I said. “But whatever you do, don’t untie him.”

“
We won’t,” they said.

I patted Nicholas’s head.
“I’m putting you in charge, Nicko.”

He nodded solemnly.
“I’ll take care of the doggie, Dia.”

“
Good. His name is Zacchaeus.”

“
I know that song!” a little girl exclaimed. “We learned it in Bible school.”

As if on cue, they began singing about the wee little man in the sycamore tree.

I was weaving my way to the dessert table—there was a piece of pumpkin pie with my name on it—when my mother grabbed my elbow. “India, I’m glad you could make it.” She made a show of looking at her watch.

I picked up the pie plate and a fork.

“Where did that dog come from? And why did you bring it to the church?”

I sat at the closest empty table. Dad, who was trying to untangle himself from a building
-fund debate with an elder, wheeled in our direction. He parked his wheelchair next to me. Dad glanced over at the dog—or what he could see of him through the mass of children. “Sure is a nice-looking dog.”

Mom pursed her lips. Dad’d been hinting at wanting a dog for the last several months. He was big fan of animal rescue shows on cable television.

“Lew asked me to dog-sit. It was Tess Ross’s dog. Well, sort of. It’s complicated.” I said this hoping she wouldn’t ask me why I found it so complicated.

Mom
’s eyebrows went up. “Carmen told us what happened. Your father and I knew Tess, although not well. Didn’t we, Alden?”

My father nodded.
“Hey, is that Victor Lepcheck’s dog?”

I nodded.

“I thought I recognized him.”

“
Did you know Victor?”

Dad shrugged.
“He was an acquaintance, nothing more than that. Did you hear there was a kerfuffle about his estate after he died?”

Only my father could get away with saying
“kerfuffle” in everyday speech.

“
There was. There still is, in fact. Tess was the dog’s trustee, and now that she’s gone, it’s up in the air what will happen to him.”

“
But why do you have him?” Mom asked.

“
Lew was Victor’s lawyer and executor of his estate. His wife’s afraid of dogs.”

“How could she be afraid of
him?” Dad asked. “Look how well he’s getting along with the kids?”

Mom wrinkled her brow.
“It’s such a shame about Tess. She was so full of life. I can’t imagine who would want to do something like that to her.” She sat at the table. “I want you to be careful, India. If there’s some kind of crazed lunatic running around the campus . . .”

“
I don’t think it was a crazed lunatic,” I said.

“
Why not? That’s what Carmen said. And it’s close to Halloween. That’s when the crazies rear their heads.”

If it was a crazy running loose, what was I doing trying to solve the murder for Derek? I’d never be able to find such a person.

“Did Carmen get this idea from the police? Does she know something I don’t know?”

“
Speaking of police, is Ricky on the case?” Dad asked.

Mom frowned.
“That silly boy. If it were up to him, Mark would be in prison.”

I found myself defending Mains.
“I’m sure he’d have come to the right conclusion eventually.”

My parents looked dubious. They didn’t have much faith in the
man
, especially if the man was in uniform. However, since Mains was a detective, I guess he’d be a plainclothes representation of the man.

“
I’ll let you get away with it this time, but no more dogs in church. You’ll give the members ideas. I don’t want poodles hanging around the sanctuary when I serve communion.”

“
I shouldn’t have the dog for too much longer. Lew’s looking for a kennel to place him in.”

Dad’s mouth turned down.
“Seems a shame to put such a nice dog in the kennel. Look how he’s making up with the kids.”

Mom’s lips drew a thin line across her face, and I finished the rest of my pie.

“You’re not going to get involved in this murder like the last one, are you?” Mom asked.

“
You were in involved in the last one, too.”

“
It involved my son. Speaking of which, have you heard from Mark?”

“
Got another postcard.”

Dad looked up.
“From where this time?” His tone was sad.

Mom crossed her arms.
“I don’t know why he’s sending you postcards and not us.”

I shrugged and reached into my shoulder bag. I handed Mom the postcard from Mark. She read it.
“All it tells us is he’s in Utah. It says nothing of where he’s staying or what he’s doing to make a living.”

Dad’s mouth was downturned.
“It doesn’t say when he’s coming home?”

Sometimes I envied Mark for running away from his life. I wondered why I couldn’t do that. Weren’t artists supposed to be free spirits? Where was my free spirit? And I was the youngest. Wasn’t the youngest supposed to be the irresponsible one? Somewhere birth order fell apart in my family.

Screams erupted. “The doggie ate my pumpkin!”

I turned in time to see Zach wolf down the last remnants of a jack-o
’-lantern.

“
India!” my mother bellowed, and trust me, my mother can bellow loudly. I don’t think a foghorn on an old-time riverboat could be half as deafening. “Get that dog out of here.”

Before going to bed, I settled Zach in my tiny kitchen with an old bed pillow. He was out the moment his curly head hit the pillow. My heart went out to the lovable scruffy-looking pooch. He’d lost Victor, his beloved master, and now was being passed around Stripling like a white elephant gift.

In the morning, I wasn’t feeling nearly as sympathetic. Apparently, a small apartment wasn’t adequate housing for a hostile feline and a bear-sized labradoodle. During the night, Zach had knocked a glass of soda off of my coffee table, eaten my favorite pair of flip-flops, and sent Templeton into a state of continuous nervous hissing.

I found him lying on the couch in my artist’s studio with a glob of yellow oil paint on the tip of his nose. My easel was upturned and throw pillows were shredded beyond recognition. Zach gave me a lazy doggie grin.

I could have sworn I’d closed the door to the studio before going to bed. I glanced back at Templeton, who was hissing softly to himself in the rocking chair. I wondered if he’d let Zach into the studio. Templeton bore his yellow-green eyes into me and let out a loud, triumphant hiss. I’d bet my life on it. Templeton had opened the door.

I cleaned up the soda and the dog and released Zach into the backyard. There was no way I was going through another night of that. I would have to find a suitable
doghouse for the time being. I added “buy doghouse” to my to-do list. It sat right under “catch a killer.” Why did everything seem so much more manageable once it was on paper? I wondered.

An hour later, I walked around the side of the duplex with Zach on a leash to find Ina on my glider. She wore her best green polyester pantsuit and pill
box hat and clutched a matching tote bag bursting at the seams. This couldn’t be good.

I avoided eye contact.
“Morning, Ina.”

She jumped up and followed me to my car. She was at the passenger side door before I fobbed the car unlocked.

“What are you doing?” I asked. I could just see the top of her pillbox hat over the car’s roof.

“
I’m helping with the investigation.”

Oh
, boy.

I gritted my teeth.
“We agreed you’d come with me to talk to Debra. Nothing more.”

“
That’s not how I understood it.” She adjusted her pillbox hat. “Now, are you going to unlock the door? This bag is heavy. I have osteoporosis, you know, if I hold this bag much longer, my whole arm could snap clean off.”

I unlocked the door.

When the three of us were settled in the car, Ina gave me the once-over. “Where’s that lovely pink dress you wore to the festival the first day?”

Et tu
, Ina?

“
I’d like to get me one of those. Do they have any extras?” She buckled her seatbelt.

“
Umm, I don’t know. You’d have to ask Carmen.”

“
I’ll do that.”

Great. I should keep my big mouth shut, I thought.

“Just give me a head start first,” I said.

She gave me a perplexed look.

Twenty minutes later, we stood in front of my booth. I produced a chew bone for Zach, and he settled underneath the table with a contented sigh. Then, I unfolded the extra folding chair I’d snagged from the garage before leaving home. This had been an excellent thought because Ina had already commandeered my chair.

I handed Ina the box of paints and told her to help set up. She plopped the box on the table.
“Done.”

“
If you really want to help, you could take the paints out of the box so the children can see all the different colors.” I set my paintings on the tabletop easels.

Ina huffed.
“I’m not here to be your servant. I’m a working P.I. today. I need to get cracking on this case.”

It was going to be a very, very long day.

“Fine,” I said. “Why don’t you interview some of the vendors?”

“
Really?” Ina grinned.

“
Sure.” I pointed at Lynette, who fussed over her crocheted kingdom. “You can start with her. She knew Tess.”

Ina glanced over a
t Lynette, straightened her hat so the shamrock, which she’d added for a little Blarney flare, dangled over her left eye. “I’m on it.” Ina scuttled away. A minute later, I heard her coo, “What lovely tea cozies you have!”

I could never say something like that with a straight face, but for Ina, it w
orked. I watched Lynette lay out her best cozies for Ina to peruse. I hoped they would keep each other occupied for the rest of the morning.

I finished setting up the booth, just in time for the first onslaught of children to arrive.
“I want an elephant,” one screamed.

“
I want a butterfly. An orange one!”

“
Me first!” A little boy in a yellow shirt shoved his sister out of the way. The harried mother shook her head in despair.

In the middle of playing referee as the children clamored for face paint, I lost track of Ina. When I looked at Lynette’s booth again, she was gone. Carmen was going to kill me when she found out Ina was loose on the premises.

Before I could go look for her, my sister showed up. Again, she pushed the double stroller with my nieces inside. “I have a situation, and you need to fix it.”

“
Me? Why me?”

“
Because this is your campus.”

I knew it was
a bad idea to have the festival at Martin. I knew I’d be the one paying for it. “What’s the situation?”

“
Those otter haters are in the parking lot passing out pamphlets. They’re scaring festivalgoers away.”

“
I don’t think they’re otter haters. I think they’re protesting because they’re otter lovers.”

“
I don’t care what they are, just get rid of them. Now.”

“
Did you call campus security?”

“
Yes, and that Mutt person sent over a pimpled-faced teenager to do the job. The otter people laughed at him.”

“
You should be used to this type of thing, Carmen, considering who our parents are.”

“
Of course, I’m used to it, but I don’t want it happening on my watch. I saw two cars drive away when they saw those kids in the parking lot.”

“
You don’t know that’s why they left.”

“
Yes, I do, because I saw the kids chasing them out of the parking lot waving their flyers about otter equal rights, whatever that is.”

“
I don’t know what I can do.”

“
India, I can’t take it. Between the murder and now these otter people, the festival is going up in flames. I will be the laughingstock of the community.” She raked a hand through her hair, mussing her perfectly styled bob.

“
Fine, fine. I’ll go see what I can do.”

“
Thank you.” Her eyes narrowed. “I expect you to be in your pioneer dress tomorrow.”

I put my hands on my hips.
“No way. I’m not taking care of these kids, and then wearing that pink nightmare tomorrow.” I sat back down to make my point.

“
Fine. You don’t have to wear the dress. Your breaking the dress code is the least of my worries.” She pushed the girls and the stroller away.

I went off to find some otters.