Silver Six Crafting Mystery 01 - Basket Case (20 page)

“This is too much. I can’t accept the Belleek.”

“Sherry Mae Cutler, you hush,” Maise scolded. “You keep this and you treasure it.”

“I do believe Maise is right. Vonnie certainly didn’t pack the Belleek basket by mistake. She wants you to have it.”

“That would be lovely in your bedroom,” Aster offered.

Sherry shook her head, her eyes still brimming with emotion. Dab patted her shoulder. Fred said, “Those are nice things and you deserve ’em, but when are we eatin’?”

“Hold fast, Fred. We’ll eat when the casseroles are good and warm.” Behind Maise, the oven timer dinged. “Now they’re good and warm. You men get to the table. Nixy, Sherry, put those nice things in the parlor so we won’t knock into them when we police the kitchen.”

We followed orders, and though I’d eaten dessert not two hours earlier, the first bite of chicken artichoke casserole had me nearly swooning.

“It’s my recipe,” Sherry told me with a proud smile.

“I thought Maise said this was the last of the food the neighbors brought over.” Food for troubled times, as Mrs. Gilroy had called it. Trouble food.

“It is, but I’ve shared the recipe over the years. Jackie Comstock made this dish.”

“It’s a mite drier than yours, Sherry,” Dab observed.

“Well, it could be I didn’t share every detail of the recipe with everyone who asked for it.” She flashed me a grin. “But I’ll give all the secrets to you.”

I mumbled a “Yes, please” around the bite in my mouth. Not that I cooked, but I’d consider learning to eat this dish again.

After we’d shoveled food for a few minutes, Eleanor cleared her throat. “I do believe the gentlemen need to make their report. Did you learn anything on your rounds today?”

“Bog, Duke, and Big George were in bed when Elsman was killed, not patrollin’ the neighborhood. They never saw a soul but Trudy ridin’ along in that Hummer, neither.”

“We missed B.G.,” Dab said. “He was delivering furniture, but we did hear that Clark goes to Hot Springs once or twice a season with some golf buddies. He doesn’t seem to win or lose big, and no one’s heard a word about him going to casinos in Shreveport or over in Oklahoma.”

“But Duke said Clark and his pals play at them racinos,” Fred added.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“A sort of casino at the Oaklawn Park Race Track,” Eleanor said. Then, “What? I heard about the place from the church group that goes in March.”

“Except,” Dab said, “there is no live betting. There’s electronic blackjack and poker.”

I frowned. “I thought there wasn’t any gambling in Arkansas except the horse and dog races.”

Fred snorted. “The powers that be call it ‘games of skill,’ but I reckon because the players use a computer thing, it passes as a computer game.”

I stared at Fred, not really seeing him, but mulling. His comment and Dab’s about computer gambling triggered a memory. I had read an article about online gambling, probably on the Internet via one of my news site feeds. I didn’t know squat about how online gambling worked, but the gist of the article was that players can get into deep debt, as much as or more than in person at a casino.

If Clark Tyler was in gambling trouble, what did that really mean in relation to Hellspawn?

“What are you thinkin’, missy?” Fred barked.

“Let’s say Clark gambles, has sizeable losses, and Elsman knows about it but Lorna doesn’t. Elsman could’ve either blackmailed him to smooth the way for the project, or bribed him to do it, or both.”

“That doesn’t mean he’d kill her.” Dab said. “And I’ll tell you straight up, I don’t see it.”

“Then who else was she blackmailing, bribing, and bullying?”

Six blank faces looked back at me.

“Yeah, I don’t know either.”

“Talk to that Trudy girl. I still think she’s suspicious.” Fred pushed his chair back and reached for his walker parked along the wall. “Come on, Dab. We need to tune up with the boys.”

•   •   •

I DID NEED TO TALK WITH TRUDY, BUT SHE DIDN’T
answer when I called. I’d try again later or maybe run up to her room. I didn’t have a code to get in the back way, but I could use the interior stairs if the café was open. First, though, I had to get the ladies settled at the concert.

The entire square had been blocked to traffic, but I found a space on the street behind the Lilies Café. The ladies and I schlepped our folding lawn chairs to a spot just down from the café. Other concertgoers sat in their folding chairs in the streets and on the sidewalks. The evening was cool with a light breeze, and many people wore jackets or wrapped themselves in blankets. A few uniformed policemen wandered through the crowd. I recognized the lean, middle-aged Officer Bryant and the young Officer Benton.

“The boys” turned out to be the Pickin’ N Grinnin’ Boys, each aged fifty and up. I recognized some of them from their having played at the folk art festival on Saturday, and others were new to me. The band was set up on the courthouse lawn, the side facing the café, but a sound system carried the music throughout downtown and beyond.

Aster had told me that Dab played the banjo and Fred played the washboard and some fiddle. “Some” turned out to be an understatement. Dab and Fred were excellent, even as they simply warmed up.

Sherry went off in search of Vonnie. I noticed that the café’s
CLOSED
sign wasn’t up, and Clark was inside. He wielded a broom and looked up when I knocked on the door. He scowled but let me in.

“Sorry to bother you, but I can’t get Trudy on the phone. Do you know if she’s here?”

“Haven’t seen her,” Clark said. I figured he’d tell me to get lost, but he motioned toward the staircase instead. “Go on up if you can make it quick. I need to lock up.”

I raced upstairs and through the door to the guest rooms, but Trudy didn’t answer my knock. The bathroom off the hall was empty, too.

“Not up there?” Clark asked when I came down.

“No, but thanks for letting me check.” I started for the door, then stopped and turned back to him. “I’m surprised y’all aren’t open on concert night. Seems like you’d have a lot of business.”

“Lorna baked all day. She’s tired.”

“That’s right. I had her desserts today. Well, I’ll bet you’re happy Elsman is gone.”

He threw me a sharp glance. “Why?”

“She was bugging you about her project, wasn’t she? Lorna said she was driving you crazy.”

“I wouldn’t kill a body just for annoying me,” he said with a level look.

I was taking a chance, but I dove in. “How about for blackmailing you?”

He took a step closer, the hand holding the broom showing white knuckles. “You listen here. I don’t care who you’re related to, you repeat that and I will sue you for slander. Got me?”

“Got you.” I took a breath. “But did you kill Elsman?”

“Hell no.”

“Do you know who did?”

He darted a look past me, and I thought he was simply avoiding my gaze until he stiffened. I pivoted but didn’t see anyone outside.

“You need to leave.”

He headed toward me, broom in hand, and I scampered out the door. He threw the lock behind me.

I stood there on the sidewalk, adrenaline pumping, but proud that I’d seized the opportunity to question Clark point-blank. Did I believe that he didn’t kill Elsman? Yes, but I had a strong gut feeling that he knew who did. Trouble was, I couldn’t prove a thing.

I called Trudy again, and again got voice mail. Was she all right, or had the killer gone after her, too?

If I didn’t reach her in another hour or so, I’d consider alerting Shoar. I wouldn’t, however, tell him I’d confronted Clark. No point in getting yelled at twice in one day.

Sherry called me to join her and the ladies as the band launched into their first song. Gradually, I even relaxed enough to enjoy the toe-tapping music. Spending the April evening in Small Town, USA, with Sherry and her housemates, friends, and neighbors was a novel experience. Refreshing. Renewing.

Or it was right up until the band took a break and a scream ripped through the night.

THE SCREAM STOPPED THEN STARTED IN SHORT
blasts and mingled with cries for help. I wasn’t positive it came from behind the café, but I ran that way. Down the half block, around to the alley, and I stopped short. A light-colored sedan partly blocked the way. Trudy stood at the front of the car on the driver’s side, arms wrapped around her middle, keening.

“Trudy,” I yelled as I edged around the sedan. “Trudy, what’s wrong?”

She swung toward me, eyes wide and wild. “I didn’t hit him. I promise I didn’t. He was in the shadows between the buildings, but I saw him in time. I braked. I know I didn’t run over him.”

I reached her and caught only a glimpse of a man’s body sprawled on the cracked pavement before she threw her big-boned body into my arms, sobbing. But I’d seen the bearded face. Clark Tyler.

Other people had come to see what was happening. I heard murmuring around me. No one came close, but the crowd at the far end of the alley parted for Officer Bryant.

“What’s going on?” he called as he trotted toward us.

“I don’t have the whole story, but this is Clark Tyler and he’s hurt.”

Bryant bent to check Clark’s neck for a pulse.

“He’s alive.”

Trudy stood up straight and took a step away from me. “Thank God!”

Bryant called for backup and an ambulance, both of which were already en route. I saw Officer Benton headed our way, and heard sirens. Several someones had undoubtedly called 911 within seconds of Trudy’s first scream.

Soon controlled chaos reigned around us. I steered Trudy to the edge of the parking lot, where we’d be out of the way, and that’s where Detective Shoar talked to us.

“You two okay?”

“Trudy’s shaken but not injured.” I glanced to where Clark was being assessed by the paramedics. “Who’s contacting Lorna?”

“We have it covered. Just stay here until I come back.”

The Pickin’ N Grinnin’ Boys began playing again, and I hoped the audience had stayed to listen. I really hoped it would deflect some attention from what had happened to Clark, whatever that was. Trudy continued to cry in little hiccups, so I couldn’t eavesdrop on the EMTs about Clark’s condition. When Sherry hailed me from the street behind the lot where my car was parked, Trudy tagged along.

I filled Sherry in on what little I knew, which was only that Clark was unconscious. She gave me a decisive nod and handed me my purse.

“We’ll head on over to the hospital to be there for Lorna. She doesn’t have family, you know. How long will you be tied up here?”

“No idea, but take my car,” I said as I fished the keys from my bag. “I’ll walk to the hospital when I’m free. What about Fred and Dab?”

“They’ll be playing for another hour, then packing up. We’ll text to let them know where we are.”

It was a typically generous and compassionate gesture for Sherry and her housemates, and reminded me what Shoar had said about Lilyvale taking care of its own.

When Clark had been loaded into the ambulance, the detective strode our way, his little cop notebook in one hand, a pen in the other.

“Is Clark going to live?” I asked him.

“The EMTs need to work on him more before they transport. They have better light and a more sterile environment in the truck.”

Which didn’t answer my question, but he probably didn’t have one yet.

“Ms. Henry,” he said formally but with kindness. “Are you feeling better now? Can you tell me what happened?”

She grasped my hand in a death grip, swallowed. “I pulled into the alley and saw a big bundle in my headlights. I hit the brakes and got out to see what was there. That’s when I realized it was Mr. Tyler.”

He made a note. “Did you touch him? Check for a pulse?”

She hung her head. “No. I freaked and screamed.”

“It’s understandable. So you were coming back to the inn?” She nodded. “Where had you been?”

She looked at the detective, then me, then heaved a sigh. “I went to Magnolia. I know I wasn’t supposed to leave town, but I’ve been here for three weeks, and with Jill dead and Jeanette gone back to Little Rock, well, I don’t have any friends here, and I was bored. I just wanted to go somewhere different.”

“Magnolia isn’t much like Lilyvale, is it?”

Trudy released my hand and gaped. “Are you kidding? The town square is nearly identical, except the buildings there are more brick than limestone.”

“I know.” He scribbled in the notebook again.

She cocked her head. “You were trying to trick me.”

“You need to tell me the next time you want to leave town.” She gave him a sheepish look. “How long were you in Magnolia? Where did you go?”

While she recounted her movements, I surreptitiously massaged the hand Trudy had crushed. With luck, I’d have feeling back in a week or two.

“Then I heard about a barbeque place,” she was saying, and her expression went euphoric. “The pies were to die for!”

I winced at her choice of words, but Shoar smiled.

“The Backyard Bar-B-Q. I know the place.”

“I have all my receipts to prove where I was, and my shopping bags are in the car.”

“What did you do the rest of the day?”

“I went to the county library and read a couple of romance novels.”

“You read a couple of books?” Eric said sharply. “In one afternoon?”

“I know I don’t come off as very bright, but I’m a fast reader. And I happen to like romance novels.”

I nearly cheered Trudy. Partly because she stood up for her reading preferences, partly because I like romance novels, too. What’s not to like about happily ever after? I didn’t make a peep, though. I didn’t want to interrupt the questioning. Not yet, but I had to fess up about confronting Clark. I just needed an opening.

“What time did you leave Magnolia?” he was asking Trudy.

“The library closed at six, so I went back to the barbeque place for more pie. I stopped for gas, so I guess I left about seven fifteen. I have that receipt, too.”

“Are you certain of the time?”

And there was my cue.

“Detective Shoar, I talked to Clark in the café about seven. A little more than an hour before I heard Trudy scream.”

He stopped making notes and whipped his attention to me. “You’re just telling me this now?”

I shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

The ambulance siren pulsed once just as he muttered something under his breath I didn’t quite catch. As the truck rolled out the far end of the alley, people parted for it to pass, but closed ranks again. Uniformed police and deputies kept them back while the crime scene techs, who’d arrived as Eric approached us, began setting up lights to do their investigation.

He told Trudy to wait, then took my elbow to steer me far enough away to talk more privately. “What is your part in this, Nixy?”

I flexed my hand to stimulate circulation.

“Other than being a crying post, I have no part.”

“Come again?”

“When I got to the alley, Trudy was standing on the driver’s side of the car at the front bumper. She threw her arms around my neck and cried, and that’s all I had to do with finding Clark.”

“But you talked to him at seven. Why?”

“Trudy called me earlier, but I couldn’t reach her when I called back. I saw Clark in the café, and he gave me a minute to see if Trudy was upstairs.”

“She wasn’t there?”

“No, but I asked Clark some questions when I came back down.”

I related our confrontation, and he looked ready to bite my head off when I finished. I quickly repeated the salient point. “I think Clark knew who killed Elsman. Or at least suspected someone.”

“And now he’s on the way to the ER. Is there a lesson here? Aha, there is. You could be next if you don’t stop asking questions.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Detective.”

His jaw dropped, then he turned away and cursed under his breath. Rather colorfully, too.

“So can I leave?”

He visibly gathered his patience. “You going back to the concert?”

“To the hospital. Sherry and the ladies went over there to be with Lorna, and I told them I’d come, too.”

He glanced at Trudy, who stood staring into space, wringing her hands.

“Can you take Trudy with you, then bring her back to the inn later?”

“You don’t need to question her more?”

“I’ll do
my
job, but I don’t think she’s involved other than discovering Clark in the alley. I’ll get her keys and move her car when the team is finished collecting evidence.”

I didn’t answer him. I was thinking. Lorna would have enough stress without Trudy’s hysterics. So if I was taking Trudy along, she’d have to calm down. I hoped Aster had her lavender spray handy.

“Nixy? Will you take Trudy, or should I find a policewoman to sit with her awhile?”

“I’ll take her.”

“Good.”

He spoke a few words to Trudy, then went to her car. He came back with her purse but asked permission to go through it first. Satisfied she didn’t have any evidence stashed in it, he handed it over and went to watch the crime scene team.

•   •   •

THE HOSPITAL WAS ONLY TWO PLUS BLOCKS, BUT
as we neared the ER, Trudy’s teeth chattered. Must have been shock because the air temperature wasn’t that cool. I touched her arm lightly.

“What’s wrong?”

She startled. “I don’t have good memories of the hospital. And I was thinking that I know now what it must’ve been like for you to find Jill’s body. Horrifying.”

I managed not to shudder. “At least Clark Tyler is alive.”

“I sure hope he’ll recover. I don’t much care for him, but Lorna is nice.”

My snoopy sense went on alert. “Any reason you don’t like Clark?”

She shrugged. “He’s unfriendly. Gruff. Plus I overheard Jill say something about having taken care of him and that he’d do what she wanted.”

“Trudy!” I exploded. “Why didn’t you tell the detective this?”

“I didn’t remember it until today,” she said, her tone defensive. “She was on the phone. She said the name Tyler, but that was it.”

The hospital was in sight now, but I slowed my steps, mulling that information. Trudy slowed, too, and then I stopped.

“Is this why you called me today?”

“No. When I went to the library, before I started reading, I looked around. They have a large collection of state and local historical records. I saw some old yearbooks and remembered that Jill had a folded-up yearbook page in her binder.”

“You said you never saw the inside of the binder.”

“I know, but it was just once. It was last Sunday, and you know how angry Jill was that day. She ran over the sapling.”

“I remember.”

“Jill had thrown the binder in the backseat. When we got to the inn again, she told me to get it. The back cover was open and that’s when I saw the page.”

“Okay, what kind of page?” I asked, thinking back to my yearbooks. “Rows of class photos? A picture of a club or an event? Could you tell if it was from a high school or college?”

“Class photos in rows, and the people looked more college-aged than high school. The thing is, Jill had circled one. I didn’t see it but for maybe ten seconds, but the name stuck with me. Trudy, like me, and Whitman like the author. And Jill had written ‘RIP’ beside the photo.”

“You don’t think your cousin killed a college kid, do you?”

“What? No, but there’s some connection to all this or Jill wouldn’t have had that page in her work binder. She wasn’t the slightest bit sentimental.”

“Did you meet anyone in town who could’ve been an older Trudy Whitman? I hate to say it, but your cousin could’ve written ‘RIP’ for some reason other than this girl being deceased.”

“Like a sick joke? It’s possible. This is why I didn’t want to talk to Detective Shoar about it. He has the binder, so if the page is there, he knows about it and I look like a ninny. But if it’s gone—”

“Then did your cousin remove it, or did someone else?”

“I thought before I talk to the detective, you could do a search for Trudy Whitman. Just to see if I should bother reporting it at all.”

The ER doors whooshed open, and I realized we needed to get in there before Sherry sent troops to track me down.

“Tell you what. I’ll think about this and get back to you. For now, let’s go see about Lorna.”

I immediately spotted her in the waiting room. Not hard to do since Lorna and the ladies of the Six were the only people there. Sherry held Lorna’s hand, and the ladies sat on either side of them. Trudy and I said hello, murmured our concerns. Lorna was too distraught to do more than nod. In fact, she looked like a woman with one foot off a high ledge.

I slipped into a seat beside Aster, and Trudy took the one next to me.

“Do you have lavender spray with you?”

She smiled. “Already used it, though I can’t say it helped.”

It must not have, because Lorna let out a wail.

“Oh no. The book club luncheon is tomorrow. That’s why Clark worked late. To prep for the Saturday menu and clean the café. The book club prepaid. If I have to cancel, I’ll have to repay them, and I don’t have the money just now. I’ll have to close the café entirely.”

“Now, Lorna, you must stay positive,” Sherry soothed. “About Clark and about the café.”