Paint the Town Dead (24 page)

“As you can see,” Sherry pointed out, “we wrote questions about events and suspects.”

“And filled in what we learned,” Maise added.

“You don't have me or Zach on here. Did you never suspect us?”

“I do believe Nixy had you on her personal list for a while, but the rest of us believed you were innocent from the start.”

“Nixy?” Doralee turned her hazel eyes on me. “You thought I could be involved?”

“Only for a few days. It's nothing personal. Aunt Sherry was a suspect in the murder here in April. So was I.”

“We all were,” Maise said.

“You never made it to a written-down list, woman, so what are you squawkin' about?”

Zach chuckled and Doralee smiled. “You're right, Fred. So who else is on here?”

I set the chart back on the easel, then hauled Amber into my lap. She was really too big to hold, but she licked my chin, then tucked her head into my neck. I didn't have the heart to put her down.

Doralee stood by the chart, touching a note on the paper with her finger now and then. Then she shook her head. “I can't make heads or tails of this. Who do you think killed Kim?”

I glanced at the Silver Six. Each of them stared back with the unspoken message for me to take the lead.

“I don't know, Doralee. I've thought it was her brother, Caleb, because he owns a truck like the one that almost hit us Sunday when I took you back to the inn.”

“And Ernie is a suspect,” she said, “because he was angry with Kim and he didn't go straight back to the inn. Or didn't go inside. I remember him saying he was walking around town.”

“Yes, but with that storm coming, it seems odd that he stay out in the weather.”

She shook her head. “Not really. Remember I told you about Ernie's fiancée dying in a car accident? Well, that was during a storm. Most people would despise storms after that kind of event. Not Ernie. He had a compulsion to be outside in them. I told him the odds would catch up and he'd be struck by lightning someday.”

“Huh. Is that something he'd tell Detective Shoar?”

“The storm thing? Probably not. Ernie is a pretty private guy.” She ran a hand through her short gold-brown hair. “He's a lot of things, but I can't see him as a killer. I certainly never felt threatened by him, and we had some intense arguments now and then.”

She looked at the flip chart, but I could tell she wasn't seeing it. Then her eyes focused and she leaned forward.

“Wait a minute. What about Margot Vail? Was she driving the car that sped out of the parking lot that night?”

“That was her. She even talked to Kim on Saturday.”

“Margot willingly spoke to Kim? Why?”

I explained about the heirloom wedding ring. “But if Margot killed Kim, I think she would've searched for the diamond and taken it.”

“I don't know. She has people who do everything but chew her food for her.”

“And yet, she's here with only her dud of a nephew for company.”

“Granted, that is a puzzle. Have you eliminated Georgine?”

I shrugged. “Pretty much. If she was wacked out on migraine drugs, I don't see how she could've done it. Besides, your smock was found out in the country, and she can't drive.”

“She can drive,” Doralee corrected. “She just doesn't. I'm sure you're right about the migraine pills. I hope she doesn't medicate herself into a coma before this is all over, but that's Ernie's problem, not mine.”

“You didn't go see her?”

“I decided to let it be.” She looked at her watch, then at Zach. “Honey, are you ready to go? I expect our hosts can use their rest. They've certainly earned it.”

She plucked her bag off the worktable. “I just want to thank you all again for being willing to help me. Even if Nixy did have me on the suspect list.”

*   *   *

I showered and crawled into bed, completely exhausted.

After five minutes with my eyes closed and my mind racing, I realized I was both tired and wired. I kept thinking I should've asked Doralee something, but what?

When we'd talked about Margot and her precious heirloom, images of the crime scene had flashed on my mental screen. I kept seeing Kim's position on the floor. On her left side, left arm outstretched, her hand limp. The fabulous ring that hadn't looked at all flashy in the end. I thought back. The ring could have been twisted so the diamond wasn't visible. The thing looked so top-heavy, it could've slipped all the way around to her palm, and all I'd really seen was the band, not the stones. I'd had a chunky ring that constantly turned on my finger until I broke down and had it sized.

But Eric confirmed two diamond rings were listed on the inventory. The one Kim had worn, and presumably the Thomason heirloom.

I sighed in the dark, and my pup and cat snuggled closer. Whatever the motive for killing Kim, I had to let go of the rings angle.

Saturday morning, I opened my eyes feeling more refreshed than I'd expected. Especially since I'd dragged the flip chart upstairs, propped it on the couch, and reexamined our old notes. Then I made new notes for another two hours.

Conclusions?

In spite of what Doralee said about Ernie's thing for storms, he was suspect number one on my new list. He could've swiped Doralee's awl—the probable weapon—and he'd have his awl, too. Motive? Kim was driving him nuts with her demand to get the opal, and he struck out in a fit of anger. Last, he had transportation to get the smock out of town.

Caleb Collier came in second place on my hit parade. He'd attended both demonstrations, so he could've taken the awl. Heck, he could have a similar tool in his truck along with his gun. He admitted to having been in the room with Kim. Transportation? Check. Motivation? Could be an inheritance, could be he got angry with his sister. I didn't see the latter as realistic, but with a murder, you never know.

And didn't I sound like an expert? Eric would laugh hard enough to cause internal damage if he heard me say that.

My third slot pegged Margot Vail and/or her nephew Dennis Thomason for the crime. They'd attended Doralee's program, and just because I'd not seen them move from the front doorway didn't mean they hadn't. I still had trouble seeing Margot as an up-close and personal killer, but her motivation was certainly strong. Get the heirloom ring for Dennis and his fiancée, get the family mansion back, and get other bits and pieces of her brother's estate back, too. Motive, means, and transportation.

Georgine was an also-ran compared to the others. However, she had the same access to an awl as Ernie did. She didn't like Kim, but seemed to have accepted her as Ernie's choice. What she didn't have was transportation. And very probably she'd have been too ill and doped up on migraine meds to do much more than go to the bathroom. Of course, she was protective of Ernie. If she thought there was a real chance he'd be arrested, I'd lay odds she'd confess herself.

All in all, not a bad list, but I had no idea who had really done the deed. It would help to know if Eric had heard back from the attorney, but he wasn't likely to tell me if I asked.

With a sigh, I stretched my arms over my head, pushing against the headboard. First T.C. then Amber crawled from beneath the covers, the dog nosing my cheek, the cat greeting me with a loud
mreow
and a stretch that dug her little claws into my sleep shirt.

“All right, okay, I'm up. Breakfast and a walk, girls?”

Since they both leaped from the bed, I took that as a big ole yes.

*   *   *

The rest of the morning was uneventful compared to the week—and night—before. We'd given Jasmine the day off, and since business was at a crawl, we tackled some major chores. Even Fred joined us as we took an
informal inventory to decide what needed replenishing. Aster's, Sherry's, and Eleanor's stock had nearly sold out, and the same was true of several other artists. In fact, the two small metal art pieces Dab and Fred had made were gone. I put their names on my “call” list so I could remind them later, and I phoned the other crafters on the list to bring more work. A fantastic problem to have.

The activity helped take my mind off the murder, and the Silver Six didn't seem to care about the outcome, other than on an intellectual level. Doralee was in the clear, and that's why we'd been involved in the first place. They hadn't commented that the flip chart was gone, which reminded me I needed to return the easel to Gaskin's next door.

Since all was under control in the store, I went to the workroom, folded the easel legs, and then jumped out of my skin when Fred spoke.

“Returnin' that, I see. Good deal. I need to work, and just seein' that thing reminds me of Maise talkin' about the murder. Medical facts. Ugh.”

I chuckled. “She did want to get into the details, didn't she?”

“Sometimes that woman is downright mean.”

“But you love her anyway.”

He snorted. “Go on with you. And if you have a hankerin' to stop by the bakery, get me a maple donut.”

“Maple?”

“You heard me, missy, and sneak it in through the back here.”

“You won't feed it to the critters, will you?”

“Nah, they don't cotton to maple. They like plain glazed.”

Amber woofed, T.C.
mreowed
, and I rolled my eyes.

*   *   *

I was headed the long way around to the alley and the back of the emporium when I saw Eric crossing the street. He waved, and I waited at the corner. He carried a suppressed air of excitement in his step and his eyes.

“You look rested. Did you hear from the attorney? Or the state lab?”

“No, but I'm ready to make an arrest.”

I stared. “Today?”

“Justice doesn't take the weekends off.”

“Is that needlepointed on a pillow at the station?”

“It's a good thing I like sarcasm in a woman. So what are you doing tonight? I have the okay from Dottie and Donnie to bring the fur buds to the dog park.”

In spite of the donut bag in my hand, I planted both fists on my hips. “That is the worst change of subject ever. Who are you arresting?”

“I can't say.”

I threw up my hands. “Fine, but if it's Ernie, you need to know something first.”

His expression maddeningly impassive, he asked, “What do I need to know?”

“Doralee told us last night that Ernie has a thing for storms.”

Eric's brow furrowed. “Is he for or against them?”

“I suppose you could say he's for,” I snarked. “His first fiancée died in a car crash in a storm. This was decades ago, but Doralee said he always goes outside when storms are coming.”

“You think it would be the other way around.”

“Eric, the point is that it looked odd for him to be walking around when that storm was brewing. He doesn't have an alibi, and it's a big factor in your investigation. I get that. But knowing he seeks out bad weather instead of avoiding it partially explains why he didn't go to the inn and up to his room.”

“Yes, it could explain why he didn't come running until he heard the sirens and saw the lights flashing behind the inn.”

“And?”

“And you never answered my question about tonight. The dog park?”

I growled under my breath. “Did you happen to know you drive me insane sometimes?”

He reached out and squeezed my hand gently. “Ditto. Check your social calendar and I'll call you later.”

*   *   *

I delivered Fred's donut, then went outside to phone Doralee. I'd rehearsed what I wanted to say so I wouldn't slip up and breach trust with Eric. Although technically, he hadn't confirmed he'd be arresting Ernie. He'd only said he was ready to arrest someone.
Argh!
My head hurt.

She picked up on the third ring and we made small talk for a minute.

“I have a question for you. I know Georgine is protective of Ernie. I saw that for myself.”

“Yes, and?”

“Do you think she'd confess to killing Kim if she thought he was going to be arrested?”

“Do you know something, Nixy?”

“No, but I was playing with notes when I couldn't sleep last night. I got to wondering about this.”

“Okay, my answer is yes. Georgine would throw herself in front of a bus to protect Ernie.”

“Would he do the same for her?”

“I—”

She broke off. “Doralee, are you still there?”

“I'm here, I'm just considering your question. And yes, I think he would. For much of their lives, they've only had each other.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Wait. Are you sure you don't know something new about the case?”

“Not a thing,” I responded with a perfectly clear conscience.

Because I didn't know anything new. I only suspected.

*   *   *

“Nixy, move my car to the front of the store, will you?”

“Sure, but why?”

“I feel terrible about this, but we forgot to bring in the throw pillows we keep outside on the display benches before the reception. Someone spilled tea on them.”

“All of them?”

“I don't know about that, but I'm running the whole lot of them to Tommy Lee to be cleaned. Hopefully he can get all the stains out. I don't know what I'll tell the crafters who made those if he can't get them pristine again.”

“Worse case, I'll buy them for my apartment,” I said, though I had faith that Lang's Cleaners and Tailor could do the job.

Sherry blinked. “But you have throw pillows.”

“I can always use more, especially with my new pets. You know, Sherry, I can bundle those up and walk them over. You don't need to drive.”

“But I'm going over to the technical school afterward. I'm recruiting students to help with the folk art festival.”

“That's months away.”

“Time sneaks up on you. And by the way, you need to get that official letter about having the festival in town.”

“I'll put it on my list for Monday. Do you have your keys?”

Eleanor reached behind the counter. “Take my set.”

I grabbed three large plastic garbage bags, the kind used for yard debris, and moved the Corolla. I only saw small stains on a few pillows, but I tossed them all into the bags. No point in Aunt Sherry making more trips than necessary, and each bag was light enough to be manageable. Of course, Sherry and all the Silver Six were much stronger than they might appear.

I couldn't help but peer across the square at the Lilies
now and then. I was convinced Eric meant to arrest Ernie, and most likely he'd do it at the café. But when? Did he need a warrant? Not that he couldn't get one, even on a Saturday, but maybe he already had one. Bottom line, he could act at any time, and there was still something nagging me that could be important.

*   *   *

Aster put me in charge of rearranging the display benches outside. Three of Sherry's four shallow round baskets held painted wooden balls and blocks of various sizes, a nature photographer's small prints, and old-fashioned clothes pins painted to look like Uncle Sam. We needed to push those. The Fourth of July was a week away. The fourth basket I filled with Aster's lotions and balms. The containers were sealed tight, but maybe some scent would escape and entice people to stop and shop.

Yes, the grand opening had been a success beyond my hopes, but we needed to do a steady business to stay in the black.

I tweaked the group of gourds from another artist, one in northern Arkansas. Her gourds weren't as elaborate as Doralee's, but were beautifully painted, most of them in solid colors.

I gave one gourd a final tweak, and glanced at the café again. No activity other than a few lunch patrons coming and going.

When would Eric make his move?

*   *   *

I tried to help Maise with the books, I really did. I was too distracted. I kept wandering to the bump-out display window that directly faced the square. I had to pull myself out of this funk.

A customer pushed open the door and set the wind chimes to tingling. She looked up at them, then at me.

“Do you happen to carry a wind chime key chain?”

I smiled at the curly-haired young woman. “We might have one,” I said, trying to remember. Had I seen one with the whittled and carved pieces? “Let's look over here.”

I guided her to the shelves of animal carvings, both stylized and intricate.

“If you don't mind me saying so, the chimes could get annoying after a while when you're driving.”

“Oh, it's not for my keys. It's for my baby carriage. Brittany loves the sound, but regular wind chimes are too large. Even the small ones at the drugstore.”

I poked around for a moment and heard a slight bing. I held up a wood chime in a horizontal diamond shape, reminiscent of the diamond in the Arkansas state flag. Four narrow tubes that hung from it rang in a higher pitched than I liked, but my customer was delighted.

“This is perfect. And what is that? A razorback?”

She pointed to the same shelf, and I handed her a carving of lovely detail for a rather unlovely animal.

“I'll take it. My husband will love it!”

“Do you live here?” I said, making casual conversation as I rang up the sale.

“We live in Magnolia. I came over to see some friends, and they told me about your shop, but my husband will be here shortly.” She rolled her eyes. “I'm such a ninny sometimes. I dropped my car keys down a drainage grate.”

“Is he bringing another set of keys?”

“Oh, he'll bring them, but he has a telescoping stick with a magnet and light on the end. That's the drawback about these car fobs. They can be so expensive to replace, if you can replace them at all. I'll take the baby back home, and he'll fish the keys out if it takes all day.” She grinned. “Good thing it's not football season, or I'd never hear the end of this. But the razorback will go a long way to make him happy.”