One Hot Murder (13 page)

“According to the Merchants Association’s charter, every parking space on Victoria Square is open for any potential customer who wants to park there. This encourages them to visit more than one shop during their stay.”

“My customers don’t shop at other stores on the Square.”

“Are you absolutely sure of that?”

“My shop is very busy,” Nona began. “I don’t have time to follow each and every customer out to their cars to see what they do.”

Katie raked a glance around the immediate area. Not one car was parked anywhere near The Quiet Quilter.

“Nona, you’ve been told more than once not to put out signs designating parking for The Quiet Quilter only. Do you want to tell me why you’ve decided to violate the charter?”

Nona folder her arms across her sweater, her stance defiant. “I think it’s stupid.”

“The charter, or the parking rules?”

“Both.” Did she realize just how childish she sounded? It certainly wasn’t flattering.

“Nona, what is your problem with following the rules?”

“It’s not the rules I despise, it’s you!”

“Me?”

“You walked in, took over Artisans Alley, took over the Merchants Association—”

“As I recall, Gilda begged someone—anyone—to step forward and take over the Merchants Association, and when no one did, she suckered me into it.”

“And haven’t you enjoyed every day of it, you power-hungry bitch?”

Katie forced herself not to react. Her first inclination had
been to bleat, “Yeah, it takes one to know one!” Instead, she silently counted to ten and wondered how many more times that week she’d be referred to with the
B
word. “I’m going to try to forget you just said that, Nona, and chalk it up to the stress we’ve all endured during this lengthy and oppressive heat wave.”

“Don’t make excuses on my account,” Nona said.

“Very well. If you need a copy of the charter, which you helped draft I might add, I would be glad to see that one is delivered to you. I’d like you to review the section on the parking policy. If you have a grievance, you need to bring it to the Association. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly,” Nona said.

“Thank you. Will we see you at the monthly meeting tomorrow night?”

“You better believe it,” she said, and turned. Without another word, she reentered her shop, slamming the door.

Katie turned and started down the steps for the parking lot. So much for looking tough with a cap and dark glasses. Now, who could she get to walk a copy of the charter over to Nona? Too bad she’d already sent Ida home; this might have been the perfect job for her. She didn’t want to saddle such an unpleasant task on just anyone at the Alley, and she was damned if she was going to walk across the lot and deliver it herself.

If Godfrey was hanging around, she’d get him to do it. It seemed as though he and Nona were made of similar—annoying—cloth.

The first thing Katie did when she returned to Artisans Alley was put out a call on the building’s public address system, asking Godfrey to meet her in her office. He didn’t. That meant she’d have to find someone else to do her dirty work. She made a copy of the charter, placed it in a flat envelope, and headed for the cash desk. On her way, she met up with Liz Meier.

“Just the person I was hoping to find,” Katie said. “Can you run an errand for me across the Square?”

“Sure. I’d love to go outside and cool off for a few minutes,” Liz joked.

“Take this over to the owner of The Quiet Quilter, and then stand back in case she explodes.”

“Sounds like you’re not having a good personnel relations day.”

“You’ve got that right,” Katie said, and handed her the envelope.

Liz smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m wearing invisible armor.
Completely impervious to jerks and other unintelligent life-forms.”

Katie smiled. “I really appreciate this.”

“I’m glad to help,” Liz said, and headed for the exit.

Katie returned to her office, checked her voice mail, and found no return call from Seth.

Swell
.

She sat down at her computer, opened a new document, and began to work on the agenda for the next Merchants Association meeting, making sure that Nona’s parking problem would be addressed, as well as welcoming the newest members to the group. She checked her notes from the last meeting and included the unfinished business. With that wrapped up, she figured she’d better get to the bank before it closed. She hadn’t yet banked the weekend’s receipts and needed to make sure the checks to the vendors wouldn’t bounce the next morning.

That errand ate another forty-five minutes, and when Katie returned, there was still no message from Seth. Okay, so she didn’t expect him to be at her beck and call, but surely he had to allow himself a couple of down moments during any given workday. Or was she just spoiled since it seemed like most of her day could be considered downtime when it was eaten up by petty errands and often just as petty people?

Katie dawdled, deciding not to start anything new. First she neatened her desk, then tidied the vendors’ lounge, and even emptied the wastebasket in the restroom behind her office.

It was twenty minutes before closing by the time Seth finally returned her call with a casual, “You rang?”

“Yes. I didn’t realize you had such a busy practice. I would’ve thought you’d be out on the golf course or something. Isn’t that what lawyers do in the summer?”

“Only if they want to swelter. I’ve got top-notch air-conditioning,
and people flock to my office just to sit in my waiting room.”

“I believe it,” Katie said.

“Now, tell me what’s up,” Seth urged.

“I had a conversation with Gilda Ringwald-Stratton this morning, talking about Dennis Wheeler. Now, try to have an open mind about this—but what do you think about the possibility that Dennis might have killed the new owner of Wood U?”

“Not a chance.”

“Have you seen or talked with the new owner since Saturday night?”

“No, but I know someone who has.”

“Damn. That completely negates my theory.”

“Sorry. Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

“I met your friends Nick and Don this morning after they closed on the Webster mansion when they came to check out their new home. They’re nice guys.”

“Didn’t I tell you that?”

“Yes, but since you’ve been tied up all day, I’ll bet you haven’t heard that someone broke into the house since they’d done their walk-through on Friday.”

“Was there any damage?” Seth asked, concerned.

“Just a broken window. They were going to have it fixed and see if they could speed up the installation of their security system.”

“Good.”

The silence dragged.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” Katie asked, the thought of the long, hot evening ahead and nothing to do but watch the walls of her apartment sweat holding no magic for her.

“Unfortunately, I’ve already got plans. Let me see how the week shakes out and maybe we’ll get a chance to cook together in my nice air-conditioned kitchen in a day or two.”

“That sounds heavenly. Thanks.”

“Sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got to run. Talk to you later,” Seth said and hung up.

Katie hung up her phone, too.

Swell.

There must be something mildly interesting she could do to pass the evening. And then it came to her. The village library was air-conditioned. She could spend a couple of hours there reading cookbooks. Surely she’d find some kind of recipe for a side dish to bring to the potluck on Saturday and win her points with Rose.

With that decided, Katie made her store-closing announcement, and shut down her computer for the night. After that, she went up front to help take care of the last of the day’s customers, collected the cash from the registers, locked it in her file cabinet, and closed her office door.

Since Liz had acted as the Alley’s security officer for the day, she did a final walk-through with Katie before Katie locked up for the night. They walked out together and bade each other good night. Before Katie could make it to her car, she saw Francine Barnett charging across the parking lot toward her.

Swell.

Francine always seemed frazzled. As the tea shop’s kitchen manager, she didn’t interact with her customers as much as her daughter did, which was good because Katie was sure the tea shop, which was supposed to be a haven of serenity, would be so charged with tension it would drive the customers away in droves.

Was that part of the shop’s current lack of patrons, or was Vonne’s assessment correct that the heat and Nona’s parking signs kept the customers from their door?

“Katie—Katie!” Francine frantically called. Maybe the reason Nona and her new neighbor didn’t get along was because they were too much alike—high-strung and prone to hysteria.

Francine was out of breath by the time she caught up to Katie. “We’ve”—
gasp, gasp!
—“got to talk.”
Gasp, gasp!

“Take your time, Francine. I’m in no hurry.”

Francine leaned against the car and then yelped.

“Watch it, it’s hot,” Katie warned. After all, the white Ford Focus had been sitting in the sun all day.

Francine rubbed her fanny and turned a sour gaze on Katie. “I was warned not to open a shop here on Victoria Square. But no, Vonne didn’t want to locate near the new marina. She said Victoria Square was the place to be. And then I found out about all the deaths.”

Katie felt sure she was in for a thorough tongue-lashing.

“I mean, really—who opens a death store?” she said, her hand taking in the small bungalow that housed The Angel Shop, which was filled with angel figurines, garden memorial stones, stained glass panels, and such. Reaching out to other grief-stricken people had helped the owner through the loss of her mother after a long battle with cancer. It was a business that served an ever-growing niche population.

“I go to visit my mother for three days and what do I find when I return? Someone else on the Square has died. Violently!” She glared at Katie, as though it might be her fault. What was she supposed to say? “Poor Mr. Wheeler.”

“They don’t know for sure if it was Dennis who died. At least, not that I’ve heard,” Katie said.

“Well,
somebody
died. I’ll be afraid to be on the Square by myself. And I sure as heck won’t let Vonne work at the shop alone at night anymore. She’s my only child,” she cried.

What intruder would be dissuaded from breaking in by the sight of this wisp of a woman?

“And now—now we’ve got that horrible woman from the quilt shop harassing us. Are you going to do something about her?”

“I’ve already spoken with her.”

“Did she promise she wouldn’t put those signs out in front of our shop?” Francine demanded.

“Not exactly, but I did warn her that she was in violation of the parking policy and that it would be brought up at the Merchants Association meeting on Wednesday.”

“Fat lot of good that’s going to do if she refuses.”

“Let’s give it a try, shall we?” Katie said diplomatically.

Francine glowered.

“Now, is there anything else you’d like us to talk about at the meeting? I’ve started the agenda, but there’s plenty of time to amend it.”

“I’ll think about it,” Francine said, marginally mollified.

“Excellent. I’ll be looking forward to your input.”

Francine turned a jaundiced glare at Katie. “Are you making fun of me?”

Katie sobered, feeling sweat trickle down the back of her neck. “Never. I take everything brought to me by the merchants seriously, especially this parking problem. There’s no reason any merchant should feel intimidated or bullied.” Like Dennis had bullied his students and perhaps his wife? “And I intend to take steps to put an end to it.”

Francine nodded. “Thank you.”

“Now, will you and Vonne be coming to the Artisans Alley Christmas in July gathering on Saturday?”

“We haven’t decided.”

“You’re welcome to come—and bring an appetite. There’s going to be tons of food, music, and I hope, fun.”

Francine let out what sounded like a bored breath. “Maybe. We’ll think about it. See you later, Katie.” And she turned and started back for Afternoon Tea.

Crisis averted!

Katie sorted through her key ring. She’d only been standing in the parking lot talking with Francine for a few minutes, but she felt as though she’d been on the hot seat long enough. Only now she’d have to literally sit on the hot
seat of her car for the five-minute drive to the library on the edge of town.

Her reward for the day would be a few hours of uninterrupted peace and quiet.

No complaining merchants.

No complaining vendors.

No worries at all.

Fingers crossed.