One Hot Murder (5 page)

“Forever.”

“Now, Katie,” Fred chided.

“I could take out another loan, but I really don’t want to. I’d like to pay myself a decent salary one day, and maybe put aside a few dollars for retirement.” She shook her head.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’ve already bought out your partner and paid off a big chunk of the debt on the old place.”

She grudgingly nodded.

“How many empty vendor spaces do you have?”

“Four.”

“Which means you’ve got sixteen more vendors than you had when you took over. You’ve rented out two of the four empty shops in the front of the building, and I’ve got some people I may want to bring through later this week to look at the remaining space. I’d say you’ve made terrific progress in only nine months.”

When he put it that way, she had to reluctantly agree. It only seemed like the business’s problems were insurmountable when she had to deal with juggling the accounts and placating cranky vendors on a day-to-day basis.

Fred came down the stairs, carefully closed the rickety gate, and joined her. They both looked up at the old home, she admiringly and he with what looked like a sense of relief.

“Speaking of the empty rental space within Artisans Alley, I’ve had a nibble on a short-term rental on one of them—for a party. What do you think about collecting two hundred dollars for one night?”

“And your fee?”

“All taken care of.”

“It’s fine with me. It’ll pay for the service call for the air-conditioning guy who visited Friday.”

“Great. They’d like to come in the day before the event to clean and decorate and they promised to come back the day after to make sure everything’s shipshape.”

“Even better.”

“I’ll get a check to you in the next couple of days.”

“Thank you.” They both turned to take in the Webster mansion once more. “It didn’t take much time to find a buyer for the old place this time,” Katie commented sadly.

“The Ryans were lucky to unload it so quickly. It sat empty for years before they bought it.”

Before I would have bought it
, Katie told herself.

“It was a huge financial burden for them,” he continued.

“They seemed like nice people. I’m glad they won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“I’ll tell you what. After they close the deal, I’ll bring the mansion’s new owners around to see you. I have a feeling the three of you are going to become good friends. That way, you’ll be able to see that they’re going to take good care of the house—maybe do everything you’d planned on doing. You
do
want what’s best for the house, don’t you?”

Yes
, she reluctantly admitted to herself, she did. It had torn her apart to see it languish in disrepair for all these years. Now…maybe the best thing
would
be for someone else to take care of it…until the next time it went up for
sale. Of course, then it would cost a lot
more
money, but the structural flaws would be repaired, and it would sport a new roof. All she’d have to do was decorate it to her heart’s content and start reeling in guests by the houseful.

She sighed. It was such a lovely fantasy.

Fred hefted the sign and Katie walked him back to his car. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked as he opened his trunk and tossed the sign inside.

“For making me accept the reality of my situation.”

“I haven’t given up on you yet,” Fred said with a smile. “You’re determined. You’re going to have your English Ivy Inn someday. It might not be here, but it
will
be beautiful and you
will
be a successful innkeeper.”

“From your lips…” She let the sentence trail off.

Fred got into his car, waved, and then drove away.

As Katie walked back toward Artisans Alley, she thought about what Fred had said. Wood U had been sold for at least a month, and yet Dennis had come to the last Victoria Square Merchants Association meeting and voted on measures as he always had. Wasn’t there something in the charter that said only the actual owners of a member business could vote? She’d have to check the minutes to see if there’d been a tie-breaking vote. If so, they might need to revisit some old business. And did the new owner have to rejoin or did Dennis’s membership pass to him like the keys to the building had?

Katie sighed as she trudged on. She’d have to pull out the Association’s rules and regulations and figure out what to do about it before Wednesday night’s monthly meeting.

And she’d have to tell Detective Davenport what Fred had told her. She shook her head.

Dennis…what were you thinking? And why weren’t you honest with
us?

Katie had a feeling that there was a lot more to this
whole fiasco than a fire and a suspicious death. A whole lot more.

Swell.

Rather than interrupt Davenport’s conversation with Conrad, Katie pulled the cell phone from her jeans pocket and left him a voice mail message and gave him Fred Cunningham’s phone number. He could better answer whatever questions the detective would have.

She entered the Alley through the front door, greeted several of her vendors and customers, and headed back toward the vendors’ lounge.

Gwen Hardy, the Alley’s resident weaver, sat at the vintage chrome and Formica table in the lounge, reading the morning paper and nursing a sweating can of pop. A box fan roared behind her. She looked up as Katie entered. “Good morning.”

“Not so far,” Katie grumbled. She didn’t elaborate and went to pour herself that tall glass of cold water she’d promised herself earlier. She opened the fridge. Not only did she find the water bottle empty, but the ice cube trays in the freezer were in the same condition. Cursing under her breath, she refilled both before downing a cup of lukewarm water from the tap. She’d have to wait several hours for her cooling refreshment.

Once back in her office, she sat down in her chair and noticed a pile of old papers sitting on what had been her formerly tidy desk. They hadn’t been there when she and the detective had left some twenty minutes before. Katie bent down to set the stack of papers on the small square heater under her desk and–
whoosh!
—they fell to the floor in an untidy mess. “What the heck?” She bent down and immediately saw the problem: Her heater was missing.

Muttering a few more curses under her breath, she bent
down to collect the papers, tidied the stack, and set it on her desk before leaving her office.

“Uh-oh. You don’t look happy,” Gwen said, polishing off the last of her pop.

“It appears that someone has taken the little heater from my office.”

Gwen blinked, startled. “Who needs heat in the middle of July? The place is as hot as a blast furnace.”

“I’ve had a few vendors complain that their booths are too cold. They think it keeps customers from buying their crafts.”

“If any of them want to change booths, they’re welcome to mine. The devil himself could be comfortable in the chaise lounge I’m using to show off my rugs.”

“I think I’ll take a walk around to see if I can find the guilty culprit.”

“And what will happen if you find him or her?” Gwen asked, trying to keep from smiling.

“All hell really
will
break loose.”

“Before you go, I was wondering if you could put another sign up on the fridge. I left a six-pack of pop in it the other day and it’s all gone. I labeled them and everything.”

Every few weeks, lunches, pop, and any other food item not nailed down would disappear from the fridge. All the vendors came and went and Katie never really paid attention to who was putting things in or taking things out of the community refrigerator—and nobody would admit to liberating items that did not belong to them either.

“I’d like to know who keeps ripping down my signs,” Katie said with a rueful shake of her head. “I’ll do it as soon as I get back.”

Gwen toasted her with her empty pop can. “Thanks.”

Katie took a few steps forward and then paused. “Are you coming to the potluck dinner on Saturday night?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“What are you bringing?”

“Since this is supposed to be a Christmas party, I thought I’d bring some fudge. Goodness knows I haven’t had any since the holidays.”

“Oh, sinful!” Katie said and laughed. She liked Gwen. Unlike now, maybe at the much-delayed Christmas party she might actually have time to have a real conversation with the woman.

Katie made a quick circuit around the back of the Alley, straining to listen for the familiar sound of the heater’s rather noisy fan. She’d gotten so she looked forward to hearing it on a cold day in winter. It would be several more months before she thought she’d hear it again. The only problem was—she didn’t hear it running. Did that mean someone had taken it from her office and removed it from the building? Could whoever took it be the same person who’d been raiding the fridge?

Maybe she had a bigger problem than the missing soda cans.

Rose Nash knew just about everything that went on in Artisans Alley. Katie decided to check in with her before she made what she anticipated was another fruitless course around the first floor.

Rose was at her register with what had to be the first customer of the day, and her wrapper hadn’t yet arrived. Katie stepped up behind her and began to wrap several beautiful pottery plates with a peacock motif and an iridescent glaze.

Rose finished the transaction, bade the customer good-bye, and turned to face Katie. “Thanks for stepping in.”

“I can’t stay long.”

“That’s okay, Liz just went to help a customer. She should be right back. What’s up?”

“The heater in my office is missing. I was wondering if you knew anything about it.”

Rose smiled. “I didn’t take it, if that’s what you mean.”

“I didn’t.”

Rose’s gaze traveled over Katie’s shoulder and suddenly Katie knew just where to find her personal heater.

“Looks like it’s time to visit the tag room,” she said. Rose handed her the chipped coffee mug containing the sales tags she had just taken off the merchandise. “Here. As long as you’re going in there, put Ida to work.”

Katie accepted the mug and headed for the tag room, hoping she would be able to keep her temper in check. Dealing with Ida was always an ordeal. The woman suffered from obsessive-compulsive disorder. She had to do everything in exacting order all the time. She seemed incapable of breaking her set routine, and understanding the social norms that most people took for granted. Ezra Hilton had felt sorry for Ida and allowed her to keep her booth rent-free for a number of years. That had to change when Katie became manager—she’d needed to pull Artisans Alley out of the red, and fast. However, she wasn’t without compassion and had allowed Ida to display her handmade lace on a shelf in one of the display cases out back in exchange for her work in the tag room—something Ida seemed content to consider as her life’s work.

Katie stood at the tag room’s door and peered inside. Ida sat on one of the folding chairs, hunched over the long table, inspecting one of the vendor’s tags, then turned to the correct stack of papers, shuffled through them, and carefully reached for her Scotch tape, grabbed a piece, and attached the tag to the paper. Then she carefully stacked the papers and began the process once again.

Katie sighed. No wonder it took the woman so long to do the task. Why didn’t she just sort all the tags into piles corresponding to the numbered sheets of paper and
then
attach them?

It wouldn’t do any good to argue with Ida. In fact, just saying hello could turn into a difficult conversation. And sure enough, Katie’s small square heater was cranking away behind Ida, who probably had a very warm butt to
show for it. Oddly enough, she was dressed in a sleeveless top, shorts that showed her ample cellulite, and sandals. No wonder she was cold sitting under an air-conditioning duct.

“Ahem,” Katie said.

Ida continued to examine the sales tags before her.

Katie cleared her throat even louder.

Ida did not look up.

Annoyed, Katie stepped into the room. “Ida?”

The older woman grabbed another piece of tape and placed it on a sales tag and put them both on another of the paper sheets before her.

“Ida!” Katie tried again, much louder.

Still no reaction. Did the woman need a hearing aid?

Katie marched over to her heater and hit the off switch. The fan continued to run for at least another thirty seconds as Katie stood there, glaring at Ida. When the fan finally quit, Ida’s head jerked up, as though she’d just awakened from a doze. She saw Katie standing over her and squealed in surprise.

“Goodness! Were you trying to scare me?” she accused.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for more than a minute,” Katie said.

“Well, you might have called me by name,” Ida admonished.

“I did—and more than once.”

“Oh…well.” Ida shrugged and returned her attention to her work.

“Ida, why did you take this heater from my office?” Katie asked.

Ida didn’t look up. “I was cold.”

“I don’t appreciate people taking my things.”

Ida grabbed another piece of tape and stuck down another tag.