One Hot Murder (10 page)

The sandy-haired man’s smile was warm. “Hi, I’m Nicholas Farrell—you can call me Nick—and this is my partner, Don Parsons.”

“I—I…I don’t know where you got the idea that I—I…” She couldn’t even bring herself to repeat the four-letter word.

“Okay, maybe hate
is
a little strong. We were told, by our mutual friend Seth Landers, you were upset to see the building get sold out from under you once again. We apologize. But you have to admit, it is a diamond in the rough. Can you blame us for wanting to bring this old girl back to life?” Don said, gazing fondly at the old home.

Katie shook her head.

“Would you like to come through with us now and hear what we’ve got planned?” Nick asked.

Katie nodded. She was beginning to feel like a mime. She certainly wasn’t at her articulate best.

Nick held out his hand and she took it. “Careful walking through the yard. The first thing on the list is to get rid of all this debris and start the demo.” He led her through the tangle of weeds and other detritus littering the small courtyard.

“I understand you’re an old friend of Seth’s,” Katie said as they mounted the creaky wooden steps.

Nick’s grin was broad. “He was my first boyfriend—back when we didn’t know what being boyfriends was all
about—and were afraid to act on it anyway. He stuck up for me, like a big brother. We’ve remained friends all these years. He was my best man at Don’s and my wedding.”

Seth had said he’d attended the wedding. He hadn’t said he’d participated in it. And she could identify with Seth acting like a protective older brother. She looked at him in the same light.

“Seth tells me that you’re his best friend here in McKinlay Mill,” Nick told Katie.

She smiled. “I’m flattered.”

Nick produced a set of shiny new keys from his jacket pocket and inserted one into the deadbolt. He turned it, then selected another key from the ring and inserted it into the lockset. “That’s got to go,” he said, indicating the handle.

“Maybe the door, too,” Don agreed, “unless our contractor knows how to make a Dutchman to repair the hole for an antique glass doorknob and mortised lock.”

“You sound like you know a lot about construction,” Katie said.

“Don?” Nick laughed. “He just watches a lot of episodes of
This Old House
.”

“Hey, you do, too!” Don protested.

Katie stifled a smile. Fred Cunningham had been right. Already she felt comfortable with Nick and Don and bet Fred’s prediction they’d become friends would indeed come true. “So what have you got planned for the entryway?” she asked, once they’d all trundled inside.

“Restoration. That means tearing out all the drywall that broke this beautiful home into apartments.”

The former owners had started that work—until Katie had helped them with their sweat-equity demo, knocked a hole in a piece of Sheetrock, and found the remains of a human body. That ended their demolition, and they’d put the house back on the market in a matter of days.

“First things first. Up the fire insurance on this place,”
Don said seriously. “I admit it, I was extremely upset to hear about the fire on the Square the other day.”

“Make that
we
were upset,” Nick echoed. “Especially if it
is
arson. Do you know anything about it, Katie? I mean, other than what’s already been on the news?”

“I’d like to reassure you, but at this point, I have no idea.”

Nick nodded. “Seth said you had lots of ideas on remodeling and redecorating this old place. I’d love to hear them.”

Tell them about the stuff in your storage unit
, a little voice within her urged.
Maybe they’d want to buy
it.

“You might not be able to shut me up,” she said instead.

“Seth said you know where to buy antique furniture and accessories.”

Tell them about the stuff in your storage unit!
the voice said louder.
Offer them a great price to take it off your hands.

“I sure do. There’s a great shop in Greece on the Ridge. And there are some wonderful architectural salvage places in Rochester, too. You’ll want to check out the weekly sales at Donahue’s Auction Barn in Parma, as well.”

Are you going to tell them about your stuff or not?
the voice taunted.

“No.”

“No?” Nick asked, confused.

Katie gave a nervous laugh. “Sorry. Just thinking aloud. I had to stop going to auctions and sales. I downsized to a tiny apartment earlier this year and I just don’t have any more room.”

“And we have plenty of rooms to fill,” Don said, waving a hand to take in the empty, cavernous house. “We might have to go on buying trips to New York.”

“You’ll pay a lot more. You’ll find wonderful furnishings locally for a fraction of the big-city prices. I’ll make up a list of places for you to check out.”

And one of them had better be your storage locker
, the voice taunted.

“And before I forget…” She handed Nick the slightly crumpled envelope she’d been holding in her sweaty hand. “I understand you’re eager to join the Merchants Association?”

“We sure are,” Don said. “We want to become a contributing force on Victoria Square and figure the best way to do that is to become friends with all the other merchants.”

“They’re a great bunch of people. We’re having a meeting on Wednesday night at Del’s Diner. We’d love to have you join us. We have dinner before the official meeting starts. Conrad Stratton from The Perfect Grape always brings a nice selection of wines, too.”

“Sounds great,” Nick said. “We’ll have to patronize his shop.”

“He gives discounts on bulk sales,” Katie said.

“We’ll be buying sherry by the case for our guests,” Don said.

Katie laughed and thought of the lovely crystal glasses and decanters swathed in bubble wrap in a box in her storage unit. “I was going to do the same thing.”

“Great minds think alike,” Nick said.

“Or read all the same books about innkeeping,” Don agreed and grinned.

Nick nodded toward the kitchen. “The room that seems to need the most work is right through here.”

“Don’t I know it,” Katie said. It was going to have to be a total gut job before they could open for business.

“Seth said you had a lot of good ideas. Come on in and tell us about them. We can compare notes,” Nick said, and led her through the dining room toward the back of the house. She’d walked through these rooms so often she could have done it blindfolded.

“Uh-oh,” Nick said as they entered the dusty kitchen. A
window in the back door had been broken, and glass littered the old yellowed linoleum. That would have to go, too.

They all looked at the gaping hole where the window had been, then around the room, which showed signs of someone having been there in the not-too-distant past. Candy wrappers and fast-food bags littered the counters, as well as a nearly empty take-out coffee cup sitting in the dirty sink.

“When did you say you did your walk-through?” Katie asked.

“Friday,” Don said, sobering. “This stuff wasn’t here then.”

Nick gave him a knowing glance. “Methinks a trip to the hardware store is in order to replace this glass.”

“Calls to the locksmith and the security company are in order, too,” Don agreed.

“I can’t imagine who’d want to break in now, when the house has been sold,” Katie said. “It’s been empty for years and thankfully was never vandalized.”

“Let’s hope whoever was here didn’t do any other damage. We’d better do a thorough walk-through,” Nick said. Don nodded.

“You might want to call the Sheriff’s Office, too,” Katie recommended. “It’s probably not related to the arson at Wood U, but you never know.”

“We’ll do that,” Nick agreed.

Katie studied their somber faces. “I’m so sorry this has ruined what should have been a happy day for you.”

“Not ruined, but…it does put a damper on it. Still, we’re determined to open Sassy Sally’s on time, and neither this—nor renovation nightmares—will deter us.”

“
Nothing
will discourage us,” Don said with determination.

On the one hand, Katie was happy to hear that…but it also meant the death knell to all her dreams for The English Ivy Inn.

And why would someone have broken into the place? To hide? Someone who had reason to disappear but didn’t want to go far?

Was it possible her harebrained theory about Dennis Wheeler could actually be true?

Katie returned to her office and immediately noticed that not only had her vintage rose plate not been returned, but that her small heater had once again gone missing. This time she didn’t bother searching Artisans Alley and marched directly to the tag room.

Sure enough, Ida sat before her folding table, diligently working on attaching the sales tags to small squares of paper, with the heater chugging along merrily behind her. She had not taken Katie’s suggestion to dress warmly, this time wearing a matching shorts and sleeveless shirt combination.

Katie stomped over to the heater, and turned it off. She was angry enough to rip the cord from the wall, but didn’t want to damage the little machine.

As before, Ida seemed oblivious to her presence until the heater’s fan stopped running. Her head jerked up and her breath caught in her throat at being startled. Her left hand snapped up to clutch her chest. “That’s the second time you’ve nearly scared me to death,” she complained.

“And that’s the second time you’ve stolen my heater.”

“I told you, I’m cold!”

“And I asked you to dress warmly.”

“And I told you, I can’t do that.”

Katie crossed her arms over her T-shirt, but took special care to keep her voice level. “Then if we can’t come to a compromise, I’m afraid you’ll have to leave Artisans Alley.”

Ida’s eyes became so wide, Katie thought they might pop out of her skull. “You can’t do that!” she hollered.

“Yes, I can,” Katie said, making sure to keep her voice level.

“Then I’ll bring in my own heater.”

“Ida, I don’t think you understand what I’m telling you. If you wish to remain a vendor here at Artisans Alley and work in the tag room, you’ll have to dress appropriately for the air-conditioning. If you don’t wish to do so, then you will no longer be welcome here.”

“But I’ve been a vendor here for years, and you’ve only been here a few months. I have more rights than you.”

Katie sighed. “Ida, I
own
Artisans Alley.”

Ida’s mouth dropped in shock. “How can this be?”

“I explained to you last fall that when Mr. Hilton died, I inherited the business. That means I’m the boss.”

“But you’re a woman!” she cried, aghast.

Good grief! Hadn’t Ida ever heard of equal opportunity?

“I’d be happy to open the glass display case now so you can gather your lace,” Katie offered.

“To take it home?” Ida asked.

“As of right now, you are no longer a vendor here at Artisans Alley.”

“But who will be the tag room manager?”

“We don’t need one. I’ll have one of the walkers take over for the rest of today, and we’ll all take turns during the day from now on.”

“But it’s
my
job,” Ida said, tears filling her eyes. Her lower
lip trembled and the gigantic wart on her cheek began to wobble. It gave Katie the creeps.

“Not anymore. Pick up your purse and come along with me,” Katie said.

Ida’s mouth opened and closed and then she burst into loud, wailing sobs, making Katie feel like ten different kinds of a brute.

Steeling herself, she unplugged the heater, picked it up, and left the tag room. She tried to ignore the stares of the other vendors as she walked away, with the sounds of Ida’s howling following her.

Back in her office, she deposited the heater back under her desk, grabbed the master key ring from the hook on the wall, picked up an empty paper box she’d stashed alongside the file cabinet, and walked back through the vendors’ lounge and out into the main showroom, making her way to the back display cases.

Unlocking the case, she removed Ida’s dusty stock. Not one piece had sold since she’d helped Ida put it on the shelf some ten months before.

Once everything was in the box, she closed and locked the case, and headed for the tag room once more. Rose had left the register and was attempting to calm a still-weeping Ida.

Katie placed the box on the table. “Here are your things, Ida. I wish we could have parted under better circumstances. But I can’t have you taking my things without permission, as well as being unwilling to work with me on the air-conditioning problem. It’s better that we part company now. I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Go away,” Ida shouted, her tearstained face flushed with anger.

“I’ll walk her to her car,” Rose said, looking at Katie with disapproval.

“Thank you, Rose.”

Then Katie turned and left the tag room.

She quickly came to an abrupt halt. Bad news travels fast, and every vendor present in the Alley stood outside the tag room, looking shocked. Katie held her head high and walked back to her office, where she shut the door and fell into her chair. Her hands were shaking badly, and she wished she kept a bottle of sherry or maybe even something a little stronger in her desk drawer. Instead, all she had were peppermints in her jar. She unwrapped two of them, popped them in her mouth, and crunched.