Murder at the Art & Craft Fair (9 page)

I turned and asked Joan Arrington another question.

“Is it possible Kincaid’s wife came with him?”

“No, he was alone. We got back to the motel at the
same time Friday night. There wasn’t anyone with him, no one else in his room.”

“How do you know?”

“We stood in his doorway talking for a few minutes. I
could see inside his room. There was no one in it. Not even a mouse.”

“Could his wife have come up later?”

“If so, she never stopped by here. Even though I’ve
never met her, I would have known if she had shown up sometime yesterday or
today. She didn’t.”

I needed to talk to a lot of people; the woman in
charge of the event, someone at the motel, someone back in Kincaid’s hometown
to find out if his wife was there, and if so, to inform her about his death.
But I also needed to talk to some of these vendors before they got away. I
looked around. Some of them were beginning to pack up. The show was over. At
least their show was. Mine was just beginning.

I was about to tell Lou I needed for him to guard the
tent until Frank came, when I looked up and saw my friend the medical examiner
swinging his arm as he walked toward me. I saw his minions behind him. The
festival was about to take on a different aura. Frank was about to go to work
on the body. Lou and I were about to go to work on the suspects. Maybe Frank
would learn something to make our job easier. Maybe the murderer left a
confession in Kincaid’s shirt pocket. Well, I can always hope.

Chapter
Fifteen

I greeted Frank and let him know where he was to get
to work. I didn’t need to tell him what to do. Frank was as good at his job as
I was at mine. I told him that Lou and I had some people to talk to and that we
would be back before he finished. He was sure of it. It would be quite a while
before Frank finished, even though most of his work at the scene of the crime
would be confined to a ten by ten space. If Joan Arrington didn’t already know
where Tom Kincaid lay, she would soon find out. So would a few others when
someone draped the yellow crime scene tape around Kincaid’s tent. Of course one
of those people I would be talking to already knew about the late Mr. Kincaid.
I just had to figure out which one.

The first people we had to talk to were Jennifer and
Thelma Lou. After consulting with Lou, we agreed that what would be best would
be for Thelma Lou to drive Lou’s car back to her place. We told her we would be
available for dinner as long as a late dinner was fine with them. It was, and
Jennifer loaned us her phone so we could call them after we finished at the
crime scene. She would return to pick us up.

I needed to talk to a lot of people, but the ones that
it was more urgent that I talk to were those who were at Hilldale City Park,
but not spending the night there. I headed to the Information Booth to find out
what I could about a few of the vendors, mainly their location. I planned to
visit briefly with each of those vendors, let them know who I was, and let them
know that they weren’t to leave the premises until after I talked to them.

Lou and I walked fast. We had a lot to do. We
approached the Information booth, saw two women sitting there. Although Maureen
Eidorn was local, and I assumed that both of the women sitting there were
local, I didn’t know either of them.

“Either of you ladies Maureen Eidorn?”

“That would be me. How can I help you?”

“I’m Lt. Dekker with the Hilldale Police Department.
This is Sgt. Murdock. I need to know the location of two of your vendors,
Johnny Delmont and Lois Weddington.”

“Neither of them has caused any problems, have they?”

“Not that I know of.” I laughed. “I just need to ask
them a few questions.”

She looked at her chart and gave me their booth
numbers. I turned to Lou, told him to go see both, tell them who he was and
that I needed to see them before they left. Also, I wanted him to ask Joan
Arrington to stick around until I returned to ask her a few more questions. I
instructed Lou to deliver the messages and then return to the Information
booth. After Lou left, I turned back to Maureen Eidorn.

“Mrs. Eidorn, I also have some questions for you about
one of your vendors. Tom Kincaid.”

“Don’t tell me someone else is upset about Tom, or did
one of the ones who complained to me about him call the police, too? Does this
have anything to do with the fact that Tom didn’t show up today and didn’t have
someone to work his tent? That’s not like him. He’s always one of the first
vendors to open, one of the last to close up at night.”

“You can start by telling me who complained to you
about Tom Kincaid.”

“First, it was one of the other vendors. Delbert
Cross. Cross said Tom Kincaid knocked some things off of one of his tables
while he, Kincaid, was setting up. I went and asked Tom about it. He denied it.
One said one thing, the other said another. There was nothing I could do, and I
never heard another thing about it. Later, Saturday, just before the event
ended, Cross came back and told me that he received a call, had a death in the
family and had to leave. I told him that under the circumstances that was okay,
and I was sorry to hear about his loss.

“Then, between the time Cross complained Saturday
morning and when he told me he was leaving Saturday night, two of those who
attended the art and craft fair came to me and complained about Tom. One said
Tom refused to return his money when he decided he wanted to buy something else
instead. Said I should kick Tom Kincaid out and not let him come back next
year. I listened to him grumble, told him I couldn’t make Tom return his money.
He told me he was leaving and he wasn’t coming back. I noticed him later, so he
didn’t leave, and when he saw me the look on his face was not the least bit
cheerful.”

“Was this man Earl Clements?”

“So, you already know about Earl. Yes, it was Earl. I
know him. He’s usually okay. At least when everything’s going his way.”

“I assume someone else complained.”

“Yes, Vernon Pitts came charging over here later, told
me that Tom Kincaid had hit his kid. Vernon wanted me to call the police. Now,
that was a different story. I hoped that Tom hadn’t hit the boy. I knew that
Pitts’s kid could be as ornery as his dad, so I went over to check on it with
an open mind. A couple of witnesses told me that a couple of boys, one of them
Pitts’s kid, came charging in Tom’s tent, knocked some stuff off the table.
They said Tom grabbed the boy by the collar and told him to get out and not
come back. A few minutes later Vernon came charging up, picked Tom up out of
his chair, and Tom hit Vernon and knocked him down. Vernon went charging in
again, knocked Tom against the table, and Tom knocked him down again. Vernon
has never been known to be very smart, so he was about to charge Tom again when
Sid Applegate, another Hilldale resident, grabbed him, talked to him a minute,
and convinced him to leave. I was told he left Tom’s booth, but not until after
he threatened Tom, and that he stayed within scowling distance. Anyway, I told
Tom to keep his hands off of the kid, that he could get in trouble for doing
that. Tom told me to mind my own business. I’ve never had any trouble with Tom
before, so I just walked off, hoped that everyone cooled off.”

“Any other complaints?”

“None that got back to me.”

“Do you know anything about the relationship between
Tom Kincaid and Johnny Delmont?”

“I know they don’t like each other, want to be set up
as far from each other as possible. I always accommodate them.”

“Any idea what caused this friction?”

“Johnny said that the idea for 3-D wooden puzzles was
his idea first and Tom stole it before he, Johnny, could make any puzzles. I
like both men, but Johnny is a procrastinator. Tom probably gave Johnny ample
time to follow up with his idea, and when he didn’t do so within a reasonable
period of time, Tom decided to make puzzles himself. We have plenty of items
made by two or more people. If we think that two people can sell enough of the
same item that both can have a good sales weekend, we let both of them in. But
so far, as far as I know, Johnny Delmont has never made any puzzles. It doesn’t
matter. He sells enough sculpture each year that he keeps coming back. There’s
one thing I can say about the people in Hilldale and surrounding towns. They
support this event, and not just by their attendance. If all people do is come
and look, vendors won’t come back. They don’t come here to be seen. They come
here to make a living. And we on the committee know that there are plenty of
other good shows out there, so we are thankful that the people around here
support this one.”

I thought about how much the four of us had supported
it this year. I thought we had supported it enough to make up for all the years
I’d missed.

“What kind of relationship did Kincaid have with Joan
Arrington or Lois Weddington?”

“Relationship? Do you mean did they get along or were
they fooling around?”

“Whatever you know.”

“Well, as far as I know they got along fine. Tom’s
married, and I don’t think he was fooling around with either woman, although he
and Joan did leave together Friday night after the set up.”

“You mean in the same vehicle?”

“I don’t think so. I meant they walked out together.
Other than motor homes or trailers people can sleep in, no other vehicles were
left in the parking lot overnight. I’m pretty sure that neither Tom’s or Joan’s
vehicle was here overnight. I think both of them were staying just down the
road.”

“Mrs. Eidorn, would you happen to know anything about
a sale Tom Kincaid made late Saturday, say around closing time?”

“Normally I wouldn’t. But I know Tom Kincaid’s work
when I see it, and I recognized Wayne Edmonds when he walked by as he was
leaving, with one of Tom’s Statues of Liberty under his arm. I hollered at him,
but he didn’t respond. He seemed to be preoccupied with something else. It was
getting dark when I saw him, so I assume he is the guy you are asking about.”

“Is he local?”

“He is.”

“Do you happen to know where he lives or his phone
number?”

“I don’t, but you should be able to find that out.
You’re not saying the puzzle was stolen, are you?”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that. What about Earl Clements
or Vernon Pitts?”

“I know Pitts and his son live way out in the country
somewhere. I’m not sure where, but you should be able to find that out, too. I
think Clements lives somewhere here in town, but I don’t know the addresses or
phone numbers of either one. Just vendors. None of these people are anyone I’ve
gotten together with socially.”

“When is the last time you saw Clements or Pitts?”

“I saw both of them last night. Both seemed to still
be visibly upset. Around 6:00 I saw Vernon Pitts standing with his arms folded,
staring at Tom’s tent. I went up to him and told him to simmer. He grunted and
walked away. As far as I could tell, neither man was here today.”

“When is the last time you saw Tom Kincaid?”

“Let me think. I guess it was yesterday, when I went
over and talked to him about the confrontation he had with the Pitts boy and
his father.”

“Didn’t see him when he left yesterday or opened up
this morning?”

“He never opened up this morning.”

“From what I hear, most of your vendors leave their
wares when they leave each night. Do you have any overnight security?”

“We do, although we can’t get anyone until 9:00 at
night. Most of the vendors are set up and gone long before that on Friday
night, and the show ends at 7:00 on Saturday. I’ve arranged for the police to
drive by every so often between 7:00 and 9:00. That’s the best I can do. And
we’ve never had anyone say that they’ve had something stolen after they’ve left
for the night.”

“Tell me about the security people. What do they do
when they are here?”

“Well, there are two people, a man and his wife. Their
job description is to hang out here in the Information booth unless they hear
or see someone. Then they are to check and see who that person is and why he or
she is here. Also, every thirty minutes they do a walk through to make sure
everything looks as it should.”

“And they didn’t report any problems Friday or
Saturday night?”

“None. What’s wrong, Lieutenant? Something has to be
or you wouldn’t be asking so many questions.”

“Everyone will know soon enough, so I might as well
tell you, but keep this to yourself for the time being. Tom Kincaid is dead. We
think he has been murdered. His body is inside of his tent. He either died
there sometime during the night last night or early this morning, or someone
murdered him and took his body to his tent. Please don’t repeat any of this to
anyone unless someone hears about it and comes and asks you. Then, you are free
to tell them that Tom Kincaid is dead. Just don’t mention the names of any of the
other people we discussed. I will be talking to each of them to see if any of
them heard or saw anything. Also, I need the name and phone number of the
husband-wife security team you hired. And if you could include your own phone
number and address I’d appreciate it, just in case I think of anything else I
need to ask you.”

I was glad the woman in front of me and the woman who
accompanied her were seated when I shared news of Kincaid’s death. Either they
were good actors, or they were surprised. The woman behind Maureen Eidorn
seemed quite unnerved. I wondered if it registered that there was a dead body
so near so many people, all day long. I stood there until Maureen Eidorn
regained some measure of composure. Finally, she spoke.

“I can’t believe it. And I know some of these people
were upset with Tom, but I can’t see any of them murdering him.”

I didn’t know what to say. I’ve seen a lot of
murderers in my time and many of them didn’t look or act like murderers.

“The medical examiner is already here and working on
the case. It may take us a while. We’ll find out who did it. And I don’t think
anyone else is in danger.”