Murder on the Ol' Bunions (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery) (14 page)

“
You
comin
’
with me,
LaTisha
. I
ain’t
being left to the mercy of a white woman who dresses like a care bear.”

I loved to mess with Hardy’s comfort zone, and knew full well making him go into a department store such as Sasha owned would supply him with something to grumble about for an entire week. “We’ll aim to do it in the morning.”

The phone started to
ringing
. Hardy snapped up the cordless from the table by the recliner.
“Sure,
Valorie
.
She’s right here.”

I took the phone. Hardy motioned he was heading upstairs. “
Valorie
, honey, what can I do for you?”

“I meant to ask you last night, Mrs. Barnhart, but it slipped my mind once you and Daddy got to talking. Would you be willing to sing at my mother’s funeral?” She paused and I heard the stress in her voice. “We thought you were probably the closest thing mom had to a true friend.”

I frowned at that sad testament to friendship. Our relationship had been one of mutual toleration. I needed a job and, though I didn’t realize it at the time—Marion needed someone who could read and manage the store. Still . . . “I’ll do it, baby. No need to worry your head about it.”

 
“Rehearsal is tomorrow evening,” Tiffany said. “Can Hardy play for you?”

“Sure he can. And I’ve got me a favor to ask. Have the state police released your momma’s store? I’ve got a box of books in there somewhere that I paid for and I’d like to have them.”

“Chief Conrad asked me to hold off on plans to do anything. My dad promised me he would take care of everything when the time came. I gave him the keys to
mom’s
—”

 
I heard the catch in
Valorie’s
voice. Next thing I knew, Mark came on the phone.

“Sorry,
LaTisha
, I’m sure you understand. It’s still hard for her to accept all the changes that have been thrown at her at once. You were asking about Marion’s personal belongings?”

“No, not that.
I have a box of books that I bought from her that morning. It’s a donation to the school library and I’d like to get in there and get them if I could.”

“You’d have to run it by the chief. I need to get in there, too, so I can get an idea of how much there is to haul.”

“Thank you. As I’ve already told Tiffany, I’ll be there tomorrow evening.”

Officer Mac Simpson visibly cringed upon seeing me enter the police station. I felt the beginnings of a smile,
then
remembered Hardy’s unhappiness with my shenanigans. The wind left my sails and I vowed to be good.

“How do you do this fine, bright morning, Officer Simpson?”

Hands flat on the top of his desk, he dipped his head.
“Doing well, thank you.
That was a mighty fine pie you brought over, Mrs. Barnhart. I appreciate it.” He sat up straight in his chair. “Now what can I do for you this morning?”

“I was wondering about that box in Marion’s shop. You said you’d leave a note for the chief about it, remember?”

“Uh, yes, I did—
I mean, I do
. He’s been very busy and he probably forgot.”

“Oh, that’s okay, sweetie, but I still need to ask him about it. Could
you.
. .?” I gestured toward the phone.

Within minutes I was sitting across from the chief, Officer Simpson stood in the doorway, having escorted me back.

“Thank you, Mac. Would you get Mrs. Barnhart a cup of. . .” he raised his brows in question.
“Tea?
Coffee?
Water”

“Nothing for me, Chief.”

With a silent nod, Conrad dismissed Simpson and the door closed with a soft click. The chief’s face, I noticed, held signs of fatigue.
Lines that hadn’t been there before Marion’s death.

“This whole incident must be hard on you,” I offered my sympathy.

“The state police are really pressuring me to let them question people. I tried to tell them they could play tough guy if they wanted, but everyone would clam up pretty tight.” He blinked
slow
. “Guess I hale back to the days when cops played the good guys and didn’t make threats and throw their weight around to get results. It’s probably why I’m a small-town cop. I like the peace too much.”

“I’m with you on that. Are they done tearing apart Marion’s shop yet?”

“They stopped in yesterday and did a few more things. Since I’m so short-staffed, they offered to post a guard, but I told them I’d just hang a lock on the door until I heard back from them. Mark called this morning and explained his situation—you could have knocked me over with a feather when he told me he was
Valorie’s
father. But what he really wants is to take a look at the inside of the store and get an idea of what he has to deal with when the time comes.”

“I know. I talked to him last night.”

That was part of the reason why I came today. You know about the donation the parents started for the school library? I bought some books from Marion that day.
Only got one box out.
So, if you’ll let me, I’d like to get the other and take it to the school.”

“I don’t know.” Chief stretched backward and put his hands behind his head. “Guess it wouldn’t hurt anything. I’ll have you sign for the books.” He stretched out his arm and yanked a key ring off the board behind his head and sat up. “We’ll stop in at Mark’s and see if he wants to go with us.”

 
“There’s something else, Chief.”

Chief, half-way out of his seat, fell back into his chair.

“I got to talk with Regina yesterday.”

 
He pulled a pad of paper close and jotted something, then leaned forward and clasped his hands together.
“And?”

“I didn’t get the conversation turned around to the campaign, but Sasha came in to have her hair done and rattled on about how it worked out so good that Regina canceled their Tuesday appointments, ‘
cuz
a shipment came in and it took them from ten o’clock until noon to get everything put away. Don’t you think that’s suspicious?”

“Did she give a reason that I could check out?”

“Said she had a long lunch date.”

“I’ll ask around a bit. Unless her date was at her house, Mark’s is the only other place she could go unless it was in Denver. I wonder if she canceled all her afternoon appointments. Can you find that out?”

“I sure can try. I’ve got another appointment with her tomorrow. She was going to visit her momma today and we’re going to try out a new hairstyle.”

Chief stood, rounded his desk and held out his hand to help me to my feet.
Such a nice boy.
“Makes me glad to have short hair.”

As we walked toward the door, one other thing occurred to me. “I read in the paper that you guys were called to the scene of a supposed theft at Dana’s house Monday evening before Marion’s death. What’s up with that?”

Chief hit the palm of his hand against his head. “It seems Payton was the only other person in Dana
Letzburg’s
house when an old diary of great personal value to her came up missing. She said he was there to tune her piano and was the only one who’d been inside.” We stepped into the sunshine together. I sucked in a deep breath of the fresh air.
Fresh except for the pervasive scent of grease wafting down the street from Mark’s place.

“What’d the boy have to say in his defense?”

“Payton?”
Chief’s brow creased in concentration. “He denied it, of course. Said he tuned the piano and left when he was finished.
Even vowed that he locked the door.”

I chewed on that a minute. If Payton tuned that piano, I was a bathing suit beauty. If I mentioned being at Dana’s that afternoon because I’d figured out she was the person Marion was talking to on the phone, would Chief get angry with me? Getting arrested for obstruction of justice didn’t seem a wise thing to do. “I visited with Dana that evening. She mentioned that diary to me. But I can tell you that piano wasn’t tuned.”

Conrad didn’t seem interested. “It doesn’t matter now anyhow, Dana left a message at the station late Tuesday night saying she’d found it and thanking me for my help.”

Since I didn’t drive Old Lou that morning, Chief insisted we take the police car to pick up Mark at the restaurant. The squad car smelled unused and musty. Chief kept it clean though, I’ll give him that. Probably didn’t have much mileage on it, either, since he only drove it on rare occasions, preferring to walk, as did most of the townspeople.

“It’ll get everyone to talking if they see you in here,” Chad said. “Could loosen the tongue of the guilty person if they think I’m zoning in on you.”

 
I sat in the back to make our little drama look more official.
“Never had a chauffeur before.
Makes me feel like Mrs. Eugene
Taser
acts.
Speaking of which, can’t you ask some well-placed questions of the mayor about. . .”

He put the car in reverse and twisted in his seat to back up. “About?”

I lifted a finger to indicate he should be quiet.
“Just a minute.
Something’s
brewin
’ in my brain.” For sure it was! When Betsy told Regina to put it on her tab, I thought it strange since Regina has customers pay cash. Why would she allow Betsy
Taser
special treatment? I doubted she did it because she liked Betsy.

Chief parallel parked in front of Your Goose is
Cooked
. I wondered if the police had to fill the parking meter or not. He slid out and hunkered down until he could see me through the back window. “You stay put.”

I lifted my hand as if to open the door, but there wasn’t a handle.
“Doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere anyway.”
But that was fine with me. I had some more thinking to do.

Chief Conrad stopped to feed a coin into the meter before he disappeared into the shop. I rolled around the Regina-Betsy
Taser
connection. Like a flapping moth, some important connection between the two kept eluding me. The
mayor.
. . scandal . . . Money missing. . . Regina. . . Her mother. . .

It rolled into my mind just as a burst of heartburn from my huge breakfast burned my stomach. It made sense. Testing the theory would prove tricky. If I was wrong it could really crush Regina. I would need to exercise great caution.

Mark and the chief came out together, laughing over some inanity. When Mark started for the front seat, the chief stopped him and walked him around the car to the back door behind the driver’s side. If they were playing to those folks who had stopped to watch, they weren’t doing a very good job by laughing the whole way to the car.

As Mark slid in, he gave me a rakish grin.
“Howdy fellow inmate.”

I scowled. “You just best be
stayin
’ on your side of this here car.”

As the chief slid behind the wheel, Mark tapped on the wire cage separating the front seat from the back. “Can you turn the light on for real effect?”

“Already got a gang of people staring,” the chief said as he waved at the small group gathered outside. “Their curiosity is probably killing them.”

“I’m glad
Valorie
isn’t here. I’ll have to explain before news gets to her that her father rode off in a police car.”