Murder at the Art & Craft Fair (8 page)

Chapter
Fourteen

I stuck my hand through the opening in the tent and
motioned for Lou to join me inside. He stepped in and checked out the situation.
We hovered near the door, neither of us wanting to contaminate a crime scene.
More than likely, if there was any evidence outside the tent, it would no
longer be helpful to us. I scanned the inside of the tent, looked at the grass
and the wooden puzzles to see if I spotted anything that might be construed as
evidence. From the look of the back of Kincaid’s head I could tell that someone
had walloped him pretty good. I doubted if he fell and hit his head on a table
and knocked everything off. Well, he might have, but if he did, the impetus of
whatever struck his battered head propelled him toward his resting place. Some
of his creations remained on the table. In time, we would check those, too, but
Lou and I weren’t about to do anything until after we had alerted Frank Harris,
the medical examiner, and he and his crew had arrived and gone over the entire
area within the tent.

Lou and I stepped out as if nothing had happened. I
rezipped the tent and the two of us walked over to the girls. I asked Thelma
Lou if I could borrow her phone and called Frank while Lou quietly explained to
the girls what had happened.

“Time to go to work, Frank.”

“Oh, are you finally going back to work, Cy?”

“I’m afraid so, and so are you.”

“Cy, don’t you know that no one’s supposed to bother a
medical examiner on the weekend?”

“I know that, but bodies get ripe after a while, and
someone forgot to tell the murderer that you and I like weekends off.”

“Weekends off? I thought you were off seven days a
week.”

“I am, until someone decides to curtail the population
a tad.”

“Okay, Cy. What have you got?”

I explained to Frank about the murder. I gave him
exact directions as to the part of the park where Kincaid’s tent stood. I
shared with him the particulars about the art and craft show, told him the show
was about over, asked him whether he should come on with his team or wait until
things cleared out.

“Any idea how long he’s been dead, Cy?”

“That’s supposed to be your field of expertise. Can’t
say for sure, but at least five and a half hours. I’d say even more. There’s a
good chance it happened last night.”

“And you say he’s inside a tent, the tent is zipped
up, and no one knows about it.”

“Well, at least one person knows about it, but my
guess is no one but the murderer knows about this.”

“And you don’t think anyone’s been inside the tent all
day?”

“No one except Lou and I, and we just barely stepped
inside. Soon as I saw the body I scanned the area from where I stood, but I
didn’t go any farther, and I didn’t bend over the body and check him out.
Looking at his head from where I stood, I’m sure he’s dead.”

“I don’t think a few more minutes will hurt anything,
Cy. But I want to do as much as we can before dark, so I won’t waste much time
getting there. Just make sure no one enters that tent.”

I ended the call with Frank, returned Thelma Lou’s
phone to her, and turned to Lou and let him know it was time to go to work.  We
walked back to the woman who occupied the tent next to Kincaid’s. It was time
to talk to her some more.

As I approached her tent, I looked at her name for the
first time. Joan Arrington, Salt and Pepper Shakers, Danville, Kentucky.

“It’s me again. I assume you are Joan Arrington.”

“In the flesh.”

“And you make salt and pepper shakers?”

“Well, let’s just say I have some help. One of my
brothers makes the wooden ones. Another brother makes the ceramic ones. I give
them ideas of ones that I think will sell. Plus, I paint or varnish the shakers
after my brothers get through with them, so I guess you could say it’s a family
project. Neither of my brothers wants to do what I’m doing here, but I love it,
as long as I don’t have to do it every weekend.”

“And you do a good job. Is it Miss or Mrs?”

“Mrs. I’m a widow, but you can call me Joan. Most
people do.”

“Okay, Joan. And you can call me, Lt. Dekker,” I said
as I showed her my I.D. “What I want to ask you now is in an official
capacity.”

“Did something happen to Tom?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, you were asking about him before, and he hasn’t
shown up today.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Last night, as I was closing up to go back to the
motel. He helped me put down the sides of my tent. See, the tent is taller than
I am. He saw me struggling and offered to help.”

“And you haven’t seen him since that time?”

“No, I saw his truck and trailer this morning at the
motel, but I haven’t seen him since I left here last night.”

“Who left first? You, or Tom Kincaid? Or did you leave
at the same time?”

“Here last night or the motel this morning? In either
case, I left first. While Tom was helping me with my tent, he got a late
customer.”

“Man or woman?”

“Man.”

“Anyone you recognized?”

“It was starting to get dark, but I don’t think it was
anyone I know. Tom seemed to know him, though.”

“Did they seem to be getting along okay?”

“Yeah, from what little I could gather from their
conversation the guy had bought puzzles from Tom before, and came to get
another puzzle from him. Tom invited him inside the tent and they continued
talking. I could see that he might be tied up for a while, so I left them
alone, went on my way.”

“And who else was still here when you left?”

“I’m not sure. I think the guy on the other side of
Tom was still here, and there might have been one or two others, but I don’t
usually pay attention to stuff like that. I leave when I’m supposed to. There
hadn’t been any customers by in ten or fifteen minutes and it was going to be
dark soon. I wanted to pick up a pizza, go back to my motel room and enjoy it.
And that’s what I did.”

“How close was your room to Kincaid’s?”

“There was one room between us.”

“Did you hear him come back last night?”

“It’s possible I heard his truck. At least someone
pulled up and shut a door that sounded like a truck, probably about thirty to
forty-five minutes after I got back. It was dark. I didn’t look out to see who
it was.”

“Is there anyone you can think of who Tom had problems
with, either this weekend or before?”

“What kind of problems?”

“Disagreements. Any kind of problem.”

“Well, I’ve already told you that the guy next to Tom
got hot because he thought Tom bumped against one of his tables when Tom was
setting up his tent, and knocked off some merchandise. Evidently, the guy had
already set up and left, and when he came back yesterday morning he found some
of his merchandise on the ground inside of his tent. Tom said he didn’t do it,
but I don’t know. I wasn’t here at the time.

“Then later yesterday Tom got into it with a couple of
guys. First, there were a couple of boys running around. They weren’t watching
where they were going and one of them ran into Tom’s tent and knocked some of
his puzzles off the table. Tom grabbed that boy by his shirt collar, yelled at
him and scared him. A few minutes later, some man who claimed to be that boy’s
father came charging into Tom’s tent, grabbed Tom by the collar and lifted him
up out of his chair. Tom knocked the man down. The man got up and charged back
into Tom’s tent, knocked Tom back against one of his tables and some more of
his puzzles fell off. Didn’t hurt any of them, but Tom was hot. He got the best
of the guy again. The second time the guy got up someone who knew him grabbed
him and escorted him away. He called Tom a few names when he left, said he
would be back.”

“Then, later there was this guy who bought one of
Tom’s Empire State Building puzzles yesterday. He brought it back, wanted his
money back. Tom asked him what was wrong with it. The guy said, ‘Nothing. I
just decided I want to buy something else instead.’ Tom told the guy he should
have thought about that before he bought it, and he refused to give the guy his
money back. The guy threatened Tom, acted like he was going to hit him with the
puzzle. He kept hollering and threatening Tom for a good minute. Finally, he
left when Tom threatened to call the cops.

“That’s all I can think of this weekend. Of course
there’s Johnny Delmont, the sculptor, who’s said many times that Tom stole the
idea of making puzzles from him. He and Tom haven’t gotten along in years.”

“Is Delmont here this weekend?”

“Yeah. I’m not sure where his booth is though.”

“Do you know the name of the guy who was set up next
to Kincaid?”

“No, but Maureen Eidorn will. She’s the one in charge
of the booths. She might be at the information booth now. If not, they can find
her for you.”

“Speaking of the people who run this event, do you
know how Kincaid got along with them?”

“As far as I know, fine. I never heard him say
anything negative about this place or the way he was treated. He’s been here a
few times. I think he’s always done well here, and he keeps coming back.”

“What about the two guys who threatened Kincaid? Any
idea who they are?”

“One of them. The guy who bought the puzzle and tried
to return it. He gave me a check. Hold on a second.”

Mrs. Arrington turned around, reached under a table,
and pulled out a cash box. She opened it and looked through a series of
checks.”

“Yeah, here it is. Earl Clements. He’s local. You know
him?”

I didn’t, but then I don’t know everyone in Hilldale.
Unless they work for the police department, murder someone, hang out at Scene
of the Crime, or go to the same church I do, I don’t know them. But then I
don’t even know all of the people at my church, or most of the people who
purchase books from Myrtle Evans. I asked to see the check. She handed it to me
and I jotted down Clements’ address. I wondered if he had found a use for his
Empire State Building. I’m sure he knew people heard him threaten Kincaid, so I
doubted if he was dumb enough to follow through, but then I’d seen dumb people
murder before.

“No idea who the other guy is? The father of that
kid?”

“No. I don’t remember him stopping in my booth. At
least he didn’t look familiar, but then we’ve had a few thousand people walk by
this weekend. There’s no way any of us can remember them all.”

“What about this woman you said does a lot of shows with
Kincaid? Did she get along with him?”

“Lois. She gets along with everyone.”

“Have you ever had any problems with him?”

“No, but then you have to remember, Lieutenant, we
don’t have the same set up for each event. Two vendors might be side-by-side at
one event, and may not even see each other at another show they both do. This
is the first time I’ve been beside him, although we’ve known each other a while
and talk to each other when we run into each other at a show. I’ve never had
any problem with him. He seems kind of like a loner, but then we talked a few
times yesterday when neither of us had anyone in our booth. I’ve been to other
shows where our tents were close enough together that we’d see each other, wave
at each other, maybe talk a little bit if things were slow. I’ve never seen him
have any problem with anyone else except for this weekend.”

“Anyone else you can think of who might have had
something against him?”

“Nobody I can think of. Lieutenant, did someone find
him dead in his bed at the motel?”

“Why do you ask that? And why do you think something
happened to him at the motel?”

“You wouldn’t ask all these questions if he was all
right. And his truck and trailer were still there this morning after I left.
And he never showed up here after I got here, and I came right here this
morning.”

“But the motel is only three blocks away. Maybe he
walked here yesterday.”

“He didn’t walk here. His truck and trailer were right
here yesterday. See, Tom sells a lot of puzzles. He stores extras under his
tables, hidden by the tablecloths, but some of his bigger ones, like the Empire
State Building, are too high to set under the table, and he can only lay down
so many of them. He went back to the truck twice yesterday, took his wagon to
get a couple more at a time. He asked me to watch his booth while he was gone.
Vendors do that for each other, like when their next-door neighbors need to
make a restroom trip or a food run. He watched mine for me a couple of times
yesterday.”

Until then, the fact that the murdered man was one
place and his truck another hadn’t registered with me. Had he been murdered
later than I thought? Was his murderer another vendor who stayed at the same
place, someone who drove Kincaid’s truck back to the motel? That didn’t make
any sense. Why would someone do that? Could it be that this Clements guy drove
Kincaid’s truck back to motel and walked home, trying to cast suspicion on one
of the vendors staying at that motel? Or could Kincaid’s wife have come with
him without any of the vendors knowing about it? He said they didn’t get along
that well. Did she hate him enough to murder him?