Murder at the Art & Craft Fair (17 page)

Chapter
Thirty

As I showered, I thought about what to do next. I
think it took the hot water and soap to get me focused on the case again. We
had talked to everyone except Delbert Cross, the vendor who left early, and
George and Myra Ingram, the couple who worked security. I was sure they would
tell me that nothing happened on their watch, and I figured they would be
telling the truth, but I had to hear it from them. Once we had talked to Cross
and got his side of the story, I wanted to talk to Joan Arrington again, to see
what she had to say about Earl Clements saying he had given her his Statue of
Liberty to return. She had neglected to share that with me. I could see only
two reasons why she would have done that. One, he never gave it to her. And
two, she had used it to whack Tom Kincaid over the head. For the moment, my
money was on Clements as the liar, but I reserved the right to change my mind.
From everything I’d heard, she had been smitten with Kincaid.

+++

I called Lou and told him we were ready to roll. He
told me that was much better than rocking, unless it was on the front porch in
a rocking chair. Since neither of us had a front porch large enough to
accommodate a rocking chair, we decided to get to work and pursue the murderer.
Before I hung up I asked him what God’s word was for the day. He told me it had
already come true. The words were, “Rescue me.” That reminded me of the song by
the same name. I sang it on the way out to Lightning, but not until after I had
checked to make sure none of the neighbors were watching.

+++

Not being good at one thing at a time, let alone two,
I quit singing until I’d backed Lightning out of the driveway and started off
toward Lou’s place. As soon as I headed off down my street, I sang again, and
continued to do so as long as I was sure no one could hear my melodious voice
or see my gyrations. I didn’t care what Lou thought. I’d made a fool of myself
in front of him on many occasions, and he had returned the favor. I continued
to sing as he rushed toward Lightning. I didn’t quit until Lou ripped the door
open, sighed, and stood there clutching the door.

“Don’t like my singing?”

“Let’s just say that none of the judges will think you
have talent.”

He shut up, but made no move to get in the car.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I just wanted to make sure I got in before you got
out and locked the door.”

“Then why haven’t you gotten in?”

“I’m just waiting to make sure you’re through crying
for help.”

 I thought about locking the doors and rushing off to
see if Heather wanted to help me apprehend a murderer. Then, I realized that I
couldn’t move quickly enough to keep Lou out, and Heather wasn’t my main
squeeze. Jennifer was.

“So, what are we going to do, Cy?”

“First, one of us is going to choke the other, and
then the choker will be off to look for the murderer.”

He lunged for me in an effort to get his hands around
my throat, mouthing as he moved toward me.

“Thanks for reminding me that I owe you one.”

I deflected his comment and drove on.

“Let’s stop and get something to eat first, and then
go question that security couple, provided we can find them. Oh, by the way, I
tried to get ahold of Cross again. He still isn’t answering his phone. How long
do funerals last, anyway? At any rate, if I can’t get ahold of him tonight,
tomorrow you and I are off to West Liberty to see if he’s there. After all,
he’s still as much of a suspect as any of these other turkeys.”

+++

We downed our second lunch of the day and headed to
George and Myra Ingram’s abode. We found it, but not George and Myra. We
knocked on a few doors until we found a neighbor who didn’t molest us, berate
us, try to shoot us, or pound nails in Lightning’s tires. Finally, we located
the neighborhood watchdog and found out that Mr. and Mrs. Security should be
home within an hour. With nothing else to do, we stopped by my house and called
to see if the girls wanted to do some short term necking. Jennifer responded,
“Depends on who it’s with.” When I told her, “Me,” she said, “I’ll pay for any
speeding tickets.”

I had an idea. We had a murder to solve, and I had a
woman to romance, so on the way over to Thelma Lou’s I shared my idea with Lou.
He seconded my emotion. We arrived at Thelma Lou’s and allowed ourselves five
minutes for affection before sharing my idea with the girls.

“Girls, I’ve got a proposition for you.”

Jennifer raised her eyebrows as if she were thinking,
“What have you got up your sleeve now?”

“Lou and I have to go question the couple who worked
security on the night Tom Kincaid was murdered. Sometime tonight or tomorrow,
we have to go to West Liberty to question a suspect, and then go to Danville to
ask a couple of questions of the woman whose tent was next to Kincaid’s. I
could call her, but I want to eyeball her, see if I can figure out if she’s
telling us the truth. I’m sure there’s a motel around West Liberty somewhere,
so I was wondering if the two of you might want to go with us, sort of a road
trip.”

Thelma Lou chimed in.

“What he’s really saying, Jennifer, is that he and Lou
need some back up.”

“Cy, are you sure you wouldn’t rather take Heather? I
saw how much you enjoyed her hug after we rescued you.”

All I could get out was, “Now, that you mention it,”
before a couch pillow came sailing toward me.

The four of us discussed it, and Jennifer decided that
if I was going to eyeball another woman she wanted to be there, so the girls
agreed to go as long as there was a motel, and it had a couple of rooms with
two double or queen-size beds. I was all for the two beds in a room. There was
no way I was sharing a bed with Lou. Thelma Lou and Jennifer might not mind
sharing a bed, but Lou and I had already bonded more in that outhouse than I
ever wanted to bond with any man, best friend or not.

I used my trusted friend Google and found out there
was one motel in West Liberty, a Days Inn. We booked two rooms, said we’d get
there sometime around 7:00 or a little after. I checked on Google Maps, and
found that the best way to get there was to go through Morehead. So, we would
stop somewhere in Morehead for dinner, then head on to West Liberty, check in
at the motel. Lou and I would leave the girls there and head to find Cross and
see why he hadn’t answered any of our calls. I doubted if he’d gone on
vacation, or if he stayed and grieved a while longer after the funeral. But I
was getting ahead of myself. The Ingrams were due home around 4:00. Lou and I
would stop by my house and his apartment, throw some things in a bag, and head
to see what we could learn from the couple who worked security on the night of
the murder. If either of them confessed to murdering Kincaid, then we would
cancel our reservations.

+++

We arrived at George and Myra Ingram’s house just as a
couple was getting out of a car. I hoped it was the Ingrams.

“Are you the Ingrams?”

“We are. What can we do for you?”

I introduced myself and Lou.

“I like your car. Is that what the department issues these
days? If so, I might check and see if you have any openings. See, I work
security part time.”

As proud as I am of Lightning, it was Lou’s car George
Ingram was bragging about. See, before we went to their house, Lou and I had
gone to his house to rescue clean clothes, and whatever else he needed to look
his best the next morning. Then, he got in his car and followed me to my house.
We left my car there and took his to go talk to the Ingrams. I’ve often
wondered why no one other than single young women ever brag about my car. I
floated that around in my mind for a moment, and then realized that I’d rather
have some good-looking, young, single female brag on my car than some
middle-aged, slightly overweight guy who works security at night. I looked at Lou
and smiled. He smiled back, but I knew what I was thinking and what he was
thinking were not the same thing. I quit smiling and turned back to the
Ingrams. I asked if we could talk to them privately. Ingram looked around like
it was already fairly private, but invited us inside. I’m sure he also wondered
why in the world the police wanted to talk to him. And then a light came on in
his head.

“Is this about that guy who was murdered?”

“So, you heard about it.”

“Maureen Eidorn called and told us. We were shocked.”

“What can you tell us about that night?”

“Not much of anything. Since we never saw anyone the
entire night, my guess is that he was already dead before we got there.”

“And what time was that?”

“About five till 9:00. We were scheduled to work from
9:00 until 7:00. Didn’t see anyone the entire night. Well, some cars drove by,
but we didn’t see anyone in the park.”

“What about the parking lot? Did you check it?”

“No, we mainly hung out under the Information tent. It
got a little cold, but we had a portable heater. Then, ever so often we walked
the property, but mainly just the area where the vendors’ tents were. The only
vehicles in the parking lot were campers of some sort. The only time we were
down that way was when we had to use the facilities. The porta-potties were
down that way. Didn’t see anything out of line when we went, didn’t hear
nothing, either.”

His mention of the porta-potties brought back our
nightmare from the night before. I looked at Lou. He looked uncomfortable too,
so I moved on as quickly as I could.

“Do you know which tent was Kincaid’s tent?”

“Not really. Maureen said it was on the last row, but
I’m not sure which one it was.”

“Do you remember a vacant space on that row?”

“Vaguely.”

I’d gotten out of the Ingrams exactly what I expected
to get out of them. I hoped to find Cross, and hoped he could tell us more. I
was sure he could. I hoped he would. I thanked the Ingrams for their time and
headed to those two good-looking women who had rescued Lou and me earlier.
Well, actually, I was only heading to one of them. I was giving the other one
to Lou. I’m nice that way.

Chapter
Thirty-One

Lou pulled into Thelma Lou’s driveway and the two of
us got out of the car. Jennifer was looking for us and opened the front door to
let us in. Lou and I did the chivalrous thing and picked up the girls’ luggage
and toted it out to let it bond in the trunk with our belongings. I planned to
do some bonding with Jennifer while Lou drove. Some road trips are better than
others. Jennifer and I did our best to imitate a young couple at the drive-in
minus the movie. Lou kept looking in the rear-view mirror and clearing his
throat.

Because it had taken a few minutes to question the
security couple and to pack for our road trip, it was almost 6:00 by the time
we got to Morehead. I didn’t want to roust Cross out of bed around midnight, so
we chose some place quick to eat. The girls didn’t seem to mind. They were just
glad Lou and I didn’t have to spend another night in an outhouse. I thought
about it as we ate, and on second thought, I wouldn’t have minded taking longer
to eat, and having to get Cross out of bed. After all, his not answering his
phone was the reason we had to make this road trip after all. And then I
thought of our new recruits. Maybe the road wasn’t so bad.

We left Morehead again, went through a wide spot in
the road known as Clearfield, and over Clack Mountain. If at some point I
decided to ask Jennifer to marry me, Clack Mountain looked like a good place to
pop the question. We followed 519 all the way, and a little over a half hour
later we were in West Liberty. We checked the girls in at the motel, and Lou
and I headed off to see if Cross was back in town, and still alive.

+++

Lou pulled up in front of a house that matched the
address we were given for Cross. There was a truck in the driveway, and a light
on inside the house. Maybe the elusive Mr. Cross was home after all. We got out
and walked up to the small frame house. I didn’t see a doorbell, so I knocked.
I could see through the curtain on the door. A man was lying back in a
recliner, asleep with the TV on. I knocked again, louder. The man jumped,
looked over at the door, put the footrest of the recliner down, and walked over
to see who had awakened him.

“Delbert Cross?”

“That’s right. You here to buy something?”

“I don’t know. What are you selling?”

He laughed.

“I guess you’re not here to buy something. What can I
help you with?”

“I’m Lt. Dekker. This is Sgt. Murdock. We’re with the
Hilldale Police Department.”

“No kidding. I was just in Hilldale.”

“I know. That’s why we’re here. May we come in?”

He opened the door, curious as to why we were there.

“Wait a minute. You said police. No police would come
all this way for something like a traffic ticket. It has to be something more
than that, like robbery or murder. Don’t tell me that guy next to me told you I
stole something of his?”

“No, guess again.”

“I’m afraid I’m not very good at guessing. Why don’t
you tell me?”

“So, you admit you were in Hilldale. And you admit you
know Tom Kincaid. So, tell me. Why did you leave early? The fair wasn’t over
until Sunday.”

“Just wasn’t selling all that much. I couldn’t see any
reason why I should hang around there another day, when I could save myself
from getting a motel room and come on home.”

“So, there wasn’t any funeral?”

“Evidently you’ve been talking to someone. No, there
wasn’t any funeral, but places like that have a hissy fit if you pack up and
leave before it’s over, so I made up a story that I got a call and had to leave
because of a death in the family.”

“So, you didn’t book a motel room before you got
there?”

“Nope. Sometimes I wait to see how I do the first day.
No use spending money on a motel if I don’t do no good. This was my first year
there, and I didn’t do diddly. That guy you talked about cleaned up, though,
and after he damaged some of my merchandise. I guess life isn’t fair after
all.”

“You didn’t by any chance stay in Tom Kincaid’s motel
room, did you?”

“Are you kidding? I didn’t even like the guy. Why
would I stay with him?”

“Didn’t?”

“Excuse me.”

“You said, didn’t like him, rather than don’t like
him.”

“Okay, I still don’t like him. Is that better? What’s
this all about? He’s not claiming that I stole something of his, is he? Cause
if so, he lying.”

“No, Mr. Cross, he’s not claiming anything, and you’re
right, he is lying.”

“I don’t understand. You’ve confused me.”

“Let’s take this a little slower, Mr. Cross. What was
your problem with Mr. Kincaid?”

“I got there, set up early Friday, and was gone by the
time he got there to set up. Evidently, when he set up he got a little carried
away and bumped into my tent and knocked some of my stuff off the table,
damaged some of it. When I confronted him after I found some of my stuff on the
ground Saturday morning, he denied it. It had to be him. It was on a table that
was right smack dab next to his tent. There were no other tents on the side
where my damaged merchandise was, and no extra room for anyone to walk between
tents. Anyway, I reported him. I don’t think they did nothing to him, and
nobody offered to pay for the damage.”

“Well, you’re right about one thing, Mr. Cross.”

“What’s that?”

“Mr. Kincaid did get carried away.”

“So, somebody backed up what I told you?”

“Well, some others confirmed that it happened. I don’t
think anyone took any sides. So, anyway, you didn’t do as well as you hoped,
and you left early. Tell me about that. What time did you leave?”

“I don’t know exactly. I guess a little after 7:00.”

“About the same time the others left, only none of the
others packed up their belongings and headed home.”

“Maybe all of them sold more than I did. I know that
Kincaid guy did. People were packing stuff out of there left and right. Say,
come to think of it. You look a little familiar. Were the two of you there that
day?”

“You’ve got a good recall, Mr. Cross. Maybe you’ll be
able to help us on who else you saw there that day. Did Kincaid have any
trouble with anyone else?”

“He sure did. At least a couple of guys. One had
something to do with some guy’s kid. The other was some customer who wanted to
return something. He got mad because Kincaid wouldn’t take it back.”

“Anyone else you can think of?”

“Nope. But I saw both of those guys again before I
left. They were still hanging around when I left, like they wanted to do
something to Kincaid or his stuff, after he left. Is that what happened? Did
someone trash his stuff?”

“Well, some of it was knocked around a little.”

“Serves him right, after what he did to me.”

“Tell me, Mr. Cross, was Joan Arrington, the woman set
up on the other side of Kincaid, still there when you left?”

He smiled.

“Was she? They were so wrapped up in each other that I
figured they’d end up spending the night together.”

“Draw me a picture.”

“Oh, she was having trouble putting her tent down, or
was pretending to have trouble. Anyway, he went over to help her, kind of had
his arms around her waist while she got up on the stepstool and put her sides
down. She stumbled and fell off the stool. He caught her, and neither one of
them seemed to be in a hurry to separate. That was when I walked by as I was
leaving.”

“And you said something to them?”

“I might have.”

“Did you notice anyone else when you left?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“You were pretty good remembering us. Maybe you saw
the woman who had the tent across the way, or either of those two men you saw
earlier, the one with the kid, or the man carrying Kincaid’s Statue of Liberty?
Or maybe another man walking toward the tent? See any of them when you left?”

“I’m pretty sure there was another person or two
nearby, but I was in an all fire hurry and didn’t pay no attention to who they
was. Say, why all these questions? What’s all of this about, anyway?”

“Mr. Kincaid was murdered at the festival.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“When?”

“It might have happened around 8:00. We’re not sure
exactly.”

“I was on my way home by then.”

“I didn’t say what 8:00 o’clock. I could’ve meant
Sunday morning or Sunday night.”

“I figured you meant Saturday night. Anyways, like I
said, I was already on my way home.”

“Any witnesses?”

“Well, that woman was still there when I left, and
like I said, there might have been a couple of other people, but I can’t tell
you who.”

“Nobody saw you pull out of the parking lot before
8:00.”

“Nope. Any witnesses who says I didn’t?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that Kincaid was murdered. I
didn’t like him, but I didn’t want to see him dead.”

“Any idea who might have murdered him?”

“Isn’t that your job to find out?”

“It is, but sometime we rely on helpful witnesses.”

“Well, I hope you find one. Remember, I was well on my
way home by the time it happened.”

“Provided it didn’t happen sooner. So, tell me, Mr.
Cross, why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

“So, that was you calling me. I never answer
out-of-town numbers I don’t recognize.”

“I wish you would have. It would have saved us a
trip.”

“But then you would have missed seeing West Liberty,
and we wouldn’t have had a chance to have our little talk.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, Mr. Cross. Maybe we’ll have
another one sometime. Now, that you know who was calling you, if that number
comes up again, answer the phone.”

He promised he would, and Lou and I turned to leave,
to go back to the motel, and to the girls. The night was still young, although
I expected that most of West Liberty were contem-plating going to bed.