One Hot Murder (22 page)

“Do we want to just accept people who haven’t paid but
do buy a business?” Jordan asked with a pointed glance at the detective.

“I say yes,” said Charlotte Booth, who owned the Square’s jam and jelly shop. “Dennis paid for the year—and Wood U is—or will be again—a going concern. Anyone taking over such a business has a lot of the same expenses a start-up would. Let the new guy pay when dues come due in January.”

“I second that motion, and propose we change the charter to reflect that,” Conrad said.

Katie looked around the table. “Those in agreement?” Seven hands shot into the air. “Those against?” Just two members—Nona and Jordan—voted no. Nick and Don abstained.

“We’re too new to have an opinion,” Nick said in explanation. “We’ll wait until we’ve been a part of the group a little longer before we voice our views.”

“I sure hope you won’t wait too long,” Katie said. “We need all the good ideas we can get to keep Victoria Square
the
place to shop in this portion of Monroe County.”

Nick smiled shyly and nodded.

Katie banged her gavel against the table. “The vote’s carried. Gilda, would you draft something for the charter for us to vote on at the next meeting?” Gilda nodded.

“Moving to the next item on the agenda, I’d like to remind everyone that there is no such thing as designated parking on Victoria Square,” she said, leveling her gaze at Nona, who continued her oblivious routine. She picked up her wineglass and took a demure sip. “If anyone needs reminding, you’ll find this covered in the group’s charter under shared facilities, paragraph three. Does anyone have any questions?”

No one said a thing, although several other people had turned their attention to Nona as well.

Sue raised her hand. “There’s an elephant in this dining room,” she said in a quiet voice. “I think we all want to
know what’s going on with Dennis. Is he really dead or is he wanted for murder?”

All eyes turned to Davenport, who raised his hands in submission. “I’m no longer in charge of the investigation. However, if you have any information you feel is relevant, I encourage you to share it with Detective Hamilton of the Sheriff’s Office.”

“If you’re not working on the case, can you tell us what’s going on? I mean, a murder on the Square could adversely affect business for all of us,” Francine said, sounding nervous.

“All I know is that someone killed a man and torched my new business. That’s about it.”

Katie knew better, but she also knew Davenport was going to have an uphill battle winning over the other members of the Association and decided to cut him some slack and said nothing.

“Our inn was broken into sometime between Friday and Monday mornings,” Don said, addressing Davenport. “Should we be worried about a copycat fire?”

“The Sheriff’s Office is looking at a person of interest in that matter.”

Katie knew Davenport meant Andy’s employee, Blake Taylor.

“They think they’ll have that portion of the crime wrapped up in a matter of days,” Davenport continued.

“Then there were two different crimes committed?” Charlotte asked.

“Possibly,” Davenport said, hedging.

“And they still haven’t identified the body?” Jordan asked.

Davenport shook his head, and Katie again thought about the Big Brown driver who’d suddenly retired. But it couldn’t be him. What would he be doing on Victoria Square on a Saturday at that time of night? And then she remembered what Davenport had asked her the morning after the fire: Had Dennis and Abby had marital problems?
Abby had said Dennis had disappointed her on a number of occasions. Gilda had mentioned that Jerry was a flirt. Abby had worked alone in the shop for most of the winter. Had she and Jerry developed a friendship when he made his deliveries? Had Dennis been jealous of that friendship?

Don’t
, Katie chided herself.
You’re making assumptions based on nothing
. But she couldn’t get the idea out of her head.

“Katie. Katie!” Sue called.

Katie shook herself.

“Shall we go on to the next item on the agenda?”

Katie looked down at the piece of paper in front of her and bit her lip. She should tell Davenport her theory—even if he just pooh-poohed it, and he would.

“It’s time to start brainstorming for this year’s Dickens Festival. Any ideas?”

“Why don’t we table that until after the big party on Saturday night at Artisans Alley—that way we can get your vendors’ input, too,” Gilda suggested.

Davenport looked up sharply. “You mean at my retirement party?” Everyone looked at him as though he were crazy.

“No—the Artisans Alley Christmas in July party,” Gilda clarified.

“Your party is on Saturday?” Katie asked Davenport, aghast.

“It sure is. We’ve rented one of your empty stores at the front of Artisans Alley. You should have already received the check
and
an invitation.”

“But I thought your party was on Friday!” Katie cried.

Davenport shook his head, looking agitated.

Katie heaved a big sigh. “Swell.”

“But as long as there’s going to be a lot of celebrating anyway, why don’t we combine the parties? That way Katie’s vendors can meet you and welcome you to the Square, too,” Charlotte said.

“Great idea,” Sue echoed. “I spoke to Rose Nash just yesterday. There’ll be a ton of food, and it’ll be a great way to get word out about the shop reopening.”

Davenport shrugged, but didn’t look at all happy. “Sure. Sounds great.”

“Katie, maybe you could put a sign out in the parking lot to let everyone know they should go inside to meet Ray,” Gilda suggested.

“If this heat wave doesn’t break, or it rains, we may
all
be inside the Alley.”

“The more the merrier,” Conrad said, proffering his wineglass.

“I’ll be displaying some of my new inventory. I sure would like some input on whether you think it will sell,” Davenport put in.

“Who are your suppliers?” Gilda asked.

Davenport looked confused. “I don’t have any. I bought the stock from Wood U, although I’m not sure what’s salvageable right now. But I’ve made a lot of products myself. And since the store won’t reopen for a couple of months, I’ll have time to make even more.”

“You’d better find a supplier fast,” Nona advised in rather a snide tone. “That is, if you don’t want to find yourself with customers and no stock come December.”

For the first time since Katie had known him, Davenport looked unsure of himself. He had a lot to learn about retail, and she was sure his fellow Association members would give him a crash course—at least when it came to all the negative aspects of the profession.

The waitress arrived to clear the table, and Katie called the meeting back to order.

The rest of the items on the agenda went quickly. As they concerned regular Square maintenance, all the resolutions were passed without discussion. Nick and Don cast their first votes, and Nona abstained from all but one of the suggestions. Katie acted as if she didn’t notice Nona’s negativity.
It wasn’t worth it. The meeting broke up by eight o’clock with the scraping of the wooden chairs on the ceramic-tiled floor.

Katie intercepted Davenport before he could leave. “I’m so sorry about the mix-up. I honestly thought your party was slated for Friday.”

“Yes, well. We’ll have to make the best of it, won’t we?”

“There’s plenty of parking, and as Gilda suggested, we’ll put a sign out to direct your friends to your party. And if they end up mingling with us, it won’t be a problem. There’s always more food than we could ever eat.”

“Good night, Mrs. Bonner.”

“Katie,” she reminded him.

All but Katie and Sue had left. Sue hefted her purse and a canvas bag. In her hand she held the steno pad she’d used to take notes on the meeting. “Katie, we seem to have a sticky situation. One of the members didn’t pay for her dinner tonight.”

Katie frowned. “Let me guess—Nona Fiske.”

“How did you know?”

“Lucky guess.”

“What shall we do about it?”

Katie sighed. “Could you give her a call in the morning and remind her? If she doesn’t pay by next meeting, she’ll have to reimburse the Association before she can order again. If she doesn’t order, we’ll add it to her dues for next year.”

“And if she doesn’t re-up?”

Katie sighed. Was there no end to the situation with Nona? “We’ll have to eat it.”

Sue looked startled for a moment, and then laughed. “Oh, I get it. A pun. We’ll have to
eat
it!” She laughed again. “Oh, Katie, you
are
funny.”

She hadn’t meant to be.

The women walked out together. The sun was only just beginning its downward trajectory, and the day’s heat and
humidity slammed them as they stepped from the diner into the parking lot. Sue sighed. “I can’t wait until the cooler weather arrives. This humidity plays havoc with my hard candies.”

“And I’ve got thirty-five thousand square feet of retail space and only about twenty percent of it is air-conditioned. It’s like an oven at the Alley.”

“Can’t you do something about it?” Sue asked.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to,” Katie said.

“I’ve got a date with my TV and a fan and I’d better get going before I melt,” Sue said and headed for her car. Katie had walked to the diner and she gave a wave before she set off for home, wishing she had more than a TV and a fan to go home to. And, in fact, she had no intention of going straight home. Or at least she had one more stop to make before she climbed the stairs to her sweltering apartment.

“I am in deep doo-doo,” Katie admitted, accepting the can of Coca-Cola that Andy handed her.

“How could you make such a obvious blunder?” he asked as he shut the cooler door and donned a new pair of plastic gloves before he turned back to his work surface and began adding toppings to the round of pizza dough before him.

“The dates were similar,” she said and popped the can’s tab, taking a deep gulp. “I mean, they both started with a one in front of them.”

“So what’s the big deal anyway? The Artisans Alley party is outside and the retirement party is inside. You can always move your party down the Square a bit. Hold it in front of some of the other stores. As long as there’s no trash cluttering things up in the morning, why would anyone object?”

“I’m worried about the weather. What if it’s still in the
nineties? Some of my vendors are elderly. They could collapse from the heat.”

“So have a few fans available for them to sit by.”

Katie glared at him. “That would just be blowing hot air on them. The paper said it might rain, too. I was thinking of moving the party inside to the lobby. At least it would be ten or more degrees cooler than outside. It’s one of the few places inside the building that actually
gets
cool.”

“So, why can’t Davenport have his party in the shop and you have yours in the lobby? Correct me if I’m wrong, but there is a wall and door separating the spaces, isn’t there?”

“I suppose we could,” Katie said, resting the cold sweating can against her cheek.

“And like you said, as long as you have a bunch of signs outside and in the entryway, it shouldn’t matter. And if Davenport is going to be part of the Square anyway, can’t you make it a welcome-to-the-neighborhood party, too? You were inviting the rest of the Merchants Association, right?”

“I suppose I could.” She gave Andy a grin. “You have good ideas. You ought to try to make it to more of our Merchants Association meetings.”

“And you ought to hold a breakfast meeting once in a while so that I
could
come.”

“Another good suggestion,” Katie agreed. “We might actually get more work done and spend less time socializing.”

Andy finished up his pizza and handed it to his assistant, Keith, who popped it into the oven. Andy started on another pizza just as the phone rang. “You wanna get that?” he asked Katie.

She stepped over to the wall phone and picked it up. “Angelo’s Pizzeria.” But instead of it being a customer, it was the voice of a frightened young man on the line. “Is Andy there? Tell him it’s Blake. I have to talk to him. Now. It’s really important.”

Katie rested the phone against her chest. “Andy, it’s Blake. He says he has to talk to you and that it’s important.”

Andy’s face darkened as he stripped off his gloves and accepted the call.

Katie took her place on the other side of the counter and sipped her Coke.

“What the hell?” Andy said. “Did you call your parents?” Katie could see Andy’s shoulders had tensed. “No, I’ll come. Don’t say
anything
. Yeah, I won’t call them now, but you know I’ll have to later.” This didn’t sound good. “Hang tight. I’ll be there soon.” He hung up the phone and swore. Then he removed the dishtowel tucked into his jeans that served as a makeshift apron, and tossed it under the counter.

“Is Blake in trouble?” Katie asked, although she suspected she knew the answer.

Andy nodded, and she could see by the set of his jaw that he was upset. “He’s been arrested for arson.”

“For the fire at Wood U?”

He shook his head. “A construction site over in Greece.” The Rochester suburb next to McKinlay Mill, where Katie had grown up. “I’d hate to have to call in one of the other kids this late at night. Can you help out until I get back?”