Murder at the Book Fair (16 page)

+++

Once my new van was sparkling
clean and ready to go and I let the girls check out the new car smell, Lou and
I kissed the girls goodbye. They had checked out of the hotel, but Lou and I
hadn't wrapped up the case yet, so we were going back. For how much longer I
wasn't sure. I wanted to be retired again as soon as possible.

I wanted to wrap up the case
before Christmas Eve. I had Christmas shopping to do, and I prefer to do my
Christmas shopping during the week, during the morning, the first week in
December, so I had no time to waste. Besides, Thanksgiving was coming and Lou
and I promised the girls that we would spend it with them. This would be
Jennifer's first Thanksgiving as a resident of Hilldale and she wanted all of
us to celebrate it at her house. For all of those reasons, and the fact that
the sun was still high in the sky when we got back to
Frankfort
, I was going to talk to some more
people, rather than waste the rest of the day.

The next two people on my list
were those two authors who sat at Portwood's table, Lori Wildwood and Jonnetta
Jarvis. I had already checked and both of them live in
Frankfort
. I like it when I don't have to
drive too far, even when I have a new vehicle to break in.

I didn't think much about the case
on the way to
Frankfort
because I was still learning all
the bells and whistles on my new
Siena
, and learning where all the normal things were located. I hit the
windshield wipers when I meant to hit the turn signal. I wasn't still employed
by the Hilldale Police Department, so the first thing I did before I took off
was turn on the radio. The guy who sold me the vehicle told me that the van had
Sirius XM radio, showed me a list of what all they had available, and showed me
how to program some of them, so I can get right to them with a touch from my
finger. I like old music, even though I wasn't alive back then, so I had him
program in 40s on 4, 5os on 5, and 60s on 6. I rotated between the three. The
first song I heard was
The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy From Company B.
The
Andrews Sisters harmonized well. When that ended I pushed a button and listened
to Johnny Mathis sing
Chances Are
and wondered what our chances were of
solving the murder quickly. Next it was time to move to the sixties and the
first full song I heard was
Yesterday
by The Beatles. I sang,
"Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away." Boy, was that song
appropriate. I decided to leave the radio on the sixties and next up was Neil
Diamond singing to me about
Sweet Caroline.
I sang along with him. Lou
was glad there was no one else riding with us. However he did say that he heard
a couple of dogs in the background, as I drove down the road. By the time we
got to
Frankfort
, Glen Campbell had sung
By the
Time I Get to
Phoenix
.
I knew that Jennifer wouldn't be
rising. She had done that hours earlier. But I wondered how close she was to
home.

It didn't take me long to get used
to my new ride. Sometimes music helps a person adapt to their new surroundings.
I was driving with one hand and drumming on the console or steering wheel to
whatever was playing. That was hard to do when they played a slow dance song. I
knew Jennifer and I would enjoy the radio together. It didn't feel the same
when I turned to Lou while
Do You Love Me?
was playing
as it will
when Jennifer is with me and they play the song again.  Lou chuckled when I
sang it to him. Jennifer will probably blow me kisses and sing along with me. I
made a mental note that sometime, when all this mess is over with, Lou and I
need to double-date, go for a long drive in the country, and all four of us
sing to our hearts content.

+++

Lori Wildwood lived closest to the
interstate, so I opted for her place first. I took the second
Frankfort
exit and located her subdivision.
I found the house and parked on the street in front of it. It seemed funny
stepping down from my ride instead of having to climb up out of it. I didn't
want Lightning to know, but the van was easier to get in and out of. I stepped
down onto the street like I was hot stuff. I tried to hide my aches and pains
from yesterday. I wondered if Lou was envious.

I walked up and knocked on the
door just as a gray minivan pulled into the driveway next door. A woman several
years my junior was behind the wheel. Her traveling companions were more
children than the number of clowns that could climb out of a small car at the
circus or than the old woman who lived in a shoe had given birth to. Well,
maybe not that many. Whatever the case, the young woman looked up and saw us as
she was getting out.

"They don't get home from
work until about
5:30
."

"Is this where Lori Wildwood
lives?"

"You a fan of hers?"

"I don't know yet, but I
bought one of her books at the Kentucky Book Fair."

"Well, I've already read it.
I can tell you it's good. Her other book is good, too. I asked her how long it
would be before her third book comes out."

"I know she'll appreciate the
endorsement. Thanks for the information. We'll catch up with her later."

"Can I tell her who stopped
by?"

"Yeah. You can say it was one
of her future fans wondering when the next book is coming out."

"But you haven't read the
first two yet. What if you don't like them?"

"Oh, I'll like them. You
already said they were good."

I smiled as we turned away from
the door, and the next-door neighbor smiled back. But I was sure that she was
wondering who had paid her neighbor a visit. Stalkers don't usually travel in
twos. But then cops don't usually travel in minivans. Especially red ones. And
authors aren't usually murdered at a book fair. Except in books.

I turned the
Siena
around and waved at the next-door
neighbor. She seemed torn between getting all the children into the house and
wondering who had come to call on her next-door neighbor.

+++

I had failed to realize that not
all authors make a million dollars a year. And some of them have to work at a
job too, to make ends meet. But the book I bought was only Lori Wildwood's
second book. Maybe after she has written five books she will be home to answer
a stranger's knock if he or she comes calling in the middle of the afternoon.

I pulled out of the subdivision
and God was with me. So was Lou. And so was a Baskin-Robbins, just across the
street. The other author I planned to see had written only one book. She was
even more likely to be at work until
5:00
, or later than Lori Wildwood was. I pointed at the ice cream palace
and Lou smiled. We had changed our eating habits, but we do deviate from our
new eating patterns on occasion. On this occasion deviate was another word for a
three-scoop sundae made with chocolate almond ice cream, topped with whipped
cream, a cherry, hot fudge and caramel syrups, and nuts. Lou went for something
completely different. Well, slightly different. He chose pralines and cream and
cherry cheesecake ice cream and left off the hot fudge syrup. I guess caramel
was enough syrup for him, and I think his sundae had only two scoops. He would
get hungry before I would.

Like I said before, God was with
us that day. Neither of us dripped anything on our shirts. That meant we
wouldn't have to go back to the
Capital
Plaza
before talking to a couple of
authors. For some reason people don't think cops with soiled shirts are as
competent as ones with clean shirts.

When we scraped out the last of
the ice cream and what came with it I looked at my watch. It was
4:31
. I had learned that Jonnetta Jarvis lived on the same end
of
Frankfort
, but down off
Louisville Road
, so I figured I would drive to
her house in case she was home before
5:30
. I hoped that it wasn't the day that both of them had plans after
work. You never know what night authors go to Pilates. Or Zumba. And hopefully
the family didn't meet to eat right after work on Friday night.

I found Jarvis's subdivision
quickly. The houses were a little smaller than the place where Lori Wildwood
lived. I wondered if that was because one had written two books and the other
one only one.

I blew out an exasperated breath
when I pulled up and found no car in the driveway. While most authors write at
home, most of them have some sort of transportation in case they need to go
somewhere. My guess was that Jonnetta Jarvis had gone somewhere. Probably work.
And she worked more than half a day. 

I turned to Lou.

"Let's go knock anyway."

Once again I stepped down from my
van. The sun had given way to the kind of  gray day we had come to expect for
this time of year. I motioned for Lou to join me and the two of us walked up to
the front door. I'd just watched
The Blues Brothers
movie for the first
time, and I had invited Lou over to see it, too. I whispered to him to don his
sunglasses and we could go into our Jake and Elwood Blues strut. He told me he
preferred to strut like Richard Pryor and Gene Wilder in
Stir Crazy.
We
had recently watched that one for the first time, too, so I said, "That's
right! That's right! We're bad," as we walked to the house. Luckily no
neighbor pulled up to tell us where we could get help. I heard a small dog yip
inside the house, so I figured the woman would be home eventually. I doubted
that she was hiding behind the blinds fearing that whoever had knocked was
either two men from the IRS coming to take all that she had or religious
zealots coming to tell her how she could have more. What tipped me off to this
was the house had no blinds. But at least I could see the yippy dog jumping up
at the window. I refrained from going over to the window and making faces at
him. Instead, Lou and I turned away. At least I would have more time to study
my Salsa Red Pearl Siena. I wonder who named the color. Maybe it was some
retired person who didn't get to Wal-Mart in time to get the greeting job. On
our way back to my new ride, Lou and I didn't have as much fun, but we got back
to the van quicker since we didn't strut on the return trip. 

He who asks the first question
wins, so I opened my mouth first.

"What do you want to
do?"

"I don't know, but I can't
handle another sundae, which means that an early dinner is out, too."

We sat there a couple of minutes
pondering what to do when a small car turned into the driveway. I smiled when a
familiar face popped up out of the car.

"Looks like dinner can
wait."

I popped down out of the van so
quickly I had to hold onto the door to keep from falling. I had to get used to
my new transportation. At least my stumble was on the side away from the house,
so Jonnetta Jarvis didn't see it. Lou didn't, either. He was busy getting out
more gracefully on his side. I thought of strutting up to the author, but then
I remembered that more people are carrying concealed weapons these days. I
didn't want to die so soon after retiring. Instead I tried to walk like a
normal person, which is hard to do shortly after being broadsided by a bull.

The woman had a puzzled look on
her face until I emerged from behind my
Siena
. Then a look of recognition took over.

"I know you. You bought my
book. What's the matter? Didn't like it?"

"Well, to tell you the truth,
I haven't read it yet. But I plan to soon."

"So, what can I do for you?
If you want copies of my book for your friends I can certainly help you with
that."

"Actually, I'm Lt. Dekker and
this is Sgt. Murdock. We're police."

"So? Some police can
read."

"I'm happy to say that we're
in that group, but we're here on another matter."

"You think one of my
characters is too much like you."

"No. Remember, I haven't read
the book yet. I want to ask you some questions about the book fair."

She went from a concerned look to
donning a huge grin.

"I loved it. It was my first
time there. I was nervous, scared I wasn't going to sell any books. That's why I
hired a guy to promote them for me. I don't know if it worked or not, but I
sold books to people I didn't know. I know I was pleased with how the day went.
If I could sell that many books everyday I could cut back to part-time at
work."

"It was our first time there,
too. And we had fun while we were there."

"You mean something bad
happened after you left?"