Paint the Town Dead (9 page)

“Do you want us to come over?”

“No, Aunt Sherry Mae,” I said as my electric kettle—the one kitchen appliance I actually used more than once a week—began heating water for the tea I'd offered Doralee. “Y'all stay safe and dry at the house. I'm not sure how long it will take Detective Shoar to get here, but I'll update you when I can.”

“All right then. Give Doralee our best, and call if you need any old thing. Come to think on it, she and Zach will probably need a place to stay tonight. Tell her I'll have a room ready.”

I knew that meant my aunt would give up her room for the night or as long as needed. She'd done the same for me in April. “I'll mention it to her, Sherry.”

“Mention what?” Doralee asked when I disconnected.

I relayed my aunt's message, pouring the boiled water over a bag of a soothing herbal tea Aster had given me as a housewarming gift as I spoke to Doralee. She added two teaspoons of sugar from an old cut-glass sugar bowl the antique dealers had left in the cabinet.

“Your aunt and her friends are the sweetest, and bless her, I may have to take her up on her offer. When I filled Zach in on what happened, he had the foresight to realize we'll need at least one change of clothing and some toiletries. He'll stop at his house and mine to pick up some things before he comes back.”

Cradling her mug of tea, she crossed to my living room and sank onto the couch with a sigh. “Although after seeing my clothes strewn around that room, I'm not sure I ever want them back. In fact, I'm not wild about going back to the inn at all, and that's a shame because it's a lovely place.”

“If you can't face being in that room, I imagine Sherry would be happy to gather your things when the time comes.”

I sat in an armchair, but Amber and T.C. jumped up on either side of Doralee and snuggled in with their heads on her lap as if to offer comfort. She looked off into space, absently stroking Amber, then the purring T.C., and I realized the critters just might be more calming to Doralee than a whole jar of Aster's lavender. They didn't even flinch when lightning flashed at the windows and cracks of thunder shook the building. My apartment might be short on furnishings, but it was a cozy port in the storm.

I had intended to sit quietly with Doralee and wait for
Eric to arrive, but there's a saying about good intentions. Keeping them soon proved impossible, because as Doralee overcame her shock, she talked nearly nonstop. Questions arose that absolutely begged to be asked, and I obliged.

“I just feel so horrible for Ernie,” Doralee mused aloud. “In spite of Kim's flaws, I really thought the third time could be the charm for him.”

I rested my mug on my knee and leaned forward. “The third time?”

“Kim was to be Ernie's third shot at marriage,” Doralee said with a wave of her hand, “although his first engagement ended before he could get married. The poor girl, Margaret, died in a car accident. In fact, she died in a car accident along with her brother, Walter, who was Georgine's fiancé.”

“When was this?”

“Oh, gosh, years ago. Ernie and Georgine were in their mid and late twenties when they lost their sweethearts, and worse, Georgine was pregnant. She'd kept it a secret. Her mother had died, but her father was a stern, cold man and would have cut her out of the will if he found out. I don't know if you're aware, but Ernie comes from old oil money, although much of it was gone by the time we got married.”

I wasn't aware of Ernie's money troubles or lack thereof, and didn't really care. I wanted to hear the rest of Georgine's story. Before I could prompt Doralee, she spoke again.

“I don't know how Ernie isn't flat broke what with the property taxes and insurance and upkeep on that old house. But I suppose he must have something in the bank or Kim probably would've left for greener pastures.”

“Go back, Doralee,” I said before she went off on another tangent. “What happened to Georgine's baby?”

“Georgine miscarried a few weeks after her fiancé's death. The stress was just too much.”

“That's so sad.”

“Ernie helped her through the miscarriage, and he was fairly sure their father never knew about the baby. When his
dad died six months later, Ernie inherited the house and most of what family money was left. Of course, he said his father was a severe, old-fashioned man, and Ernie was the elder sibling.”

“He's older than Georgine?”

“By four years. Her dour personality makes her seem older, and bless her heart, I always thought she looked older, too. I think the ordeal with her fiancé and miscarriage prematurely aged her. Anyway, old Mr. Boudreaux only bequeathed some family jewelry and a modest amount of money to Georgine. A dowry of sorts. After all, he'd have expected her to get married someday.”

“But she never did?” I asked.

“No, and they both stayed on in the family home. Georgine kept house for her brother and looked after him for over a decade before I ever met him.”

“She didn't seem to like Kim. Did she like you?”

Doralee sipped her tea, which was probably cold by now, but she didn't so much as wrinkle her nose. She seemed deep in thought, paying no notice to the rain lashing the windows or the whistling wind.

“I'm not really sure the issue was liking me or not as a person. You have to realize she was very protective of Ernie. She still is. I didn't meet and marry him until we were both in our forties, so except for Ernie's forays into dating, Georgine had him to herself. Ernie was a player for a while, never serious about anyone. When he got serious with me, I could see that she was jealous of him having another woman in his life, and in her home.”

“So how did you handle that? Did Georgine move out?”

“Heavenly days, no. Their family home north of Shreveport isn't quite a mansion, but it's plenty large. Georgine and Ernie lived in separate wings with the main public rooms in the middle of the house. I insisted we keep that arrangement. I also insisted that Georgine keep running the house the way she wished. I'd help or stay out of her way.”

“I take it you stayed out of her way.”

“Yes, but I paid attention to how she did things. That came in handy when she got sick a couple of years into my marriage. I was able to take over for about three months until she was well.”

I thought about Georgine's personality, or what little I'd seen of it. “Was she grateful or did she resent you?”

Doralee rested her head on the sofa cushion. “She resented me. She swung between being aloof with me or passive-aggressive, but we shared the occasional moment of harmony. During her recovery she nitpicked, and I expected that. I didn't let it bother me much. After she recovered, though, I either got the cold shoulder or the snide comments.”

I sipped at my own cool tea. “That must've been extremely difficult.”

“Yes. I never thought she was quite right, you know? Whether that was from her fiancé and baby dying, I don't know. She seemed more fragile after her illness. She stopped driving, too. Wouldn't even take herself to the grocery store, although that could've been a control issue, not a medical one.”

“So you or Ernie or Georgine's friends drove her places?”

“She didn't have friends, Nixy. No social life, even before she got sick. She became touchier, too. Small things upset her, and she got migraines more often. I suggested to Ernie that we move and give Georgine her own space. He house-hunted with me a few times, but nothing came of it. I kept as busy as I could with my art and volunteering, but when you live with a sister-in-law who is subtly cutting you at every turn—” She broke off with a shrug.

“Georgine destroyed your marriage?”

“Her jealousy and possessiveness of her brother and her home were tipping points, but I can't hold a grudge. Ernie and I were responsible, too. Looking back on it, I don't know how much we loved each other versus how tired we were of being alone. I cared for Ernie. I still do. But neither of us fought for
each other. We didn't try hard enough to stay together. You know what I mean?”

I nodded and Doralee went on. “When I left, I urged Ernie to restore the family engagement ring and give it to Georgine, but of course he never did. The flashy ring isn't something she'd want to wear, but she was partial to the original. I always wondered if that was part of the reason she resented me.”

“From what little I saw, Georgine was set to make Kim's life with Ernie a challenge, too.”

Doralee shook her head. “I don't know. Georgine doesn't confront, she undermines. I worked to make peace with her, whereas Kim simply ignored her. Besides, Ernie gave me the impression he and Kim were moving into the home Kim inherited from her last husband.”

I sputtered a sip of tea. “Her last husband?”

A twinkle lit Doralee's eyes. “Kim came from humble beginnings and married up, as they say. Twice, and both times to wealthy men who were some twenty years older. Her first husband, Craig Franks, had a stroke on the golf course. Her second, D.B. Thomason, had a heart attack after a board of directors meeting.”

I blinked. “That's some marriage history. I hope she wasn't expecting Ernie to keel over.”

Doralee's expression sobered. “One thing is certain. None of us expected Kim would die so young. Not even her former in-laws. Dennis, D.B.'s son, will be relieved, and D.B.'s sister, Margot, will be ecstatic.”

“Why? Just because they didn't like Kim?”

“No, although that's a big part of it. Heck, Margot once attempted to kill Kim. Maybe more than once.”

“What?”

Doralee nodded. “The incident I heard about was that Margot drove a golf cart straight at Kim. The woman claimed the accelerator stuck. As if.”

“What happened?”

“The cart just clipped Kim's hip, but had she fallen and hit her head on the paved cart path, she could've been seriously hurt or even died.”

I snapped my gaping mouth closed. “How do you know this?”

“A friend of mine, Buffy Phillips, runs in Margot's social circle. Buffy never met a morsel of gossip she didn't pass along, but the point I meant to make is something she told me. She heard that the portion of the estate D.B. left to Kim in the trust passes on to his family upon Kim's death. If that's so, I wouldn't put anything past those snooty folks.”

Would this sister-in-law from Kim's past arrange to meet her, then kill her? Snooty was a far cry from murderous.

I startled when my cell buzzed in my pocket. It was Eric calling.

“Come down and let me in,” he said without a normal hello.

Okay, not Eric. Detective Shoar. Because even his sexy voice was firmly in cop mode.

Although the rain had let up a bit, the wind still whistled through the mature trees surrounding the square, and around the buildings. When I opened the alley door to admit my stone-faced detective, I saw Zach wheel Doralee's SUV into the parking lot. I held the door for him to enter, too.

Inside Fred's shop area, both men brushed raindrops from their lightweight jackets as I reintroduced them. They cordially shook hands, made noises about remembering each other from the lawn party, but tension crackled in the air like lightning waiting to strike.

Upstairs, Zach and Doralee immediately embraced. She teared up; he comforted her. They didn't say much to each other. I'm sure they were very aware of having an audience, one of them in law enforcement.

Amber and T.C. had leaped off the couch, but didn't seek attention from Zach. Instead they looked adoringly at Eric, and he squatted to greet them and scratch them behind the ears.

I quickly did the hostess thing, making more tea for Doralee, and handing the requested glasses of ice water to the men.

“Ms. Gordon, Mr. Dalton, please have a seat,” Eric said. “I'll try to make this brief.”

He took the chair I'd sat in earlier, and Doralee and Zach sat on the couch. I thought the pets would sit with me in the second comfy chair, but they scooted under the coffee table and watched the humans. I swore they felt the gravity in the room. Amber's floppy ears swung as she looked from one person to another. T.C. swished her tail anxiously.

“First walk me through what happened after we all left the emporium this afternoon. Ms. Gordon, you start.”

With her hand linked with Zach's, she gave Eric the highlights, and he made notes in a small spiral notebook. He let her talk without interruption until she got to the part about not being able to find her room key.

“You still haven't found the key?”

“I haven't looked since I emptied my purse for the officer,” she answered, grabbing her bag from where she'd dropped it on the floor. She opened the flap to show him the single compartment. “I had the key right here in this zippered pocket.”

“If I may, Detective,” Zach said, “Doralee always keeps her room keys there when she travels, although the key is usually a card type. It's so she won't accidentally put her cell phone near the card and deactivate it.”

“Zach's right. I change purses, of course, but they all have outside pockets for my phone, and inside zipper slots where I put my hotel keys. I established that habit even before I was married to Ernie.”

“Do you mind if I look again?”

Doralee gave him an impatient glance, but plunked the purse on the coffee table. In under two minutes, he'd emptied the contents, then sorted and repacked them while we looked on in silence.

“Thank you, Ms. Gordon.” He closed the purse flap and handed it back. “Now I know this part may be more difficult, so bear with me. Ms. Nix drove you to the inn. Since you had something to give her, she went upstairs with you. You both found Ms. Thomason when you opened your door?”

“No, the door fell open when I leaned on it.”

“She didn't touch the doorknob,” I interjected. “Neither of us did. It was so dim in the hall that I aimed my phone's flashlight into Doralee's purse so she could see better. She backed up, leaned against the hinged side of the doorjamb for just a second, and the door swung open. We never noticed the door was ajar.”

“And,” Doralee added, “we didn't see Kim until I flipped the light switch.”

Shoar raised a brow. “Why didn't you see her?”

“It was a dark and stormy afternoon, Detective,” I said. “Darker inside the room than in the hall.”

He gave me a flat stare. I threw up my hands. “Hey, I'm just offering some clarity.”

If he hadn't been on duty, I think he'd have rolled his eyes at me. Instead, he refocused on Doralee.

“What time was this?”

Doralee glanced at me. “A little after five thirty? Did you notice, Nixy?”

“No, but that's a good estimate.”

“Fine. What did you do after you turned on the light, Ms. Gordon?”

“I went into the room to see about Kim but Nixy told me to stop.” She went on to recount what had happened before the police arrived. “Then Nixy led me into the hallway, and we waited for the authorities to come.”

My detective cut his gaze to me, one brow lifted as if asking me to confirm Doralee's account. Since she'd been true to the general facts, I nodded. He turned back to Doralee.

“You didn't touch anything?”

“No, but it's our room,” she said, glancing at Zach.

“You had to notice it had been searched. Did you attempt to straighten anything? Retrieve clothing? Anything like that.”

“I noticed the mess, of course, but I didn't touch a thing. I was too stunned.”

He made another note in his spiral. “Assuming it was Ms. Thomason who searched, do you know what she was looking for?”

“No, I don't.”

Doralee answered him without hesitation, and it was all I could do not to either gape like a fish or contradict her.

Truly, did Doralee not have a clue why Kim was in her room, or was she simply not thinking about the opal? Not connecting it to Kim's search?

Or was she holding back that information for a reason. Perhaps to protect Ernie?

I glanced at Zach. He watched Doralee with loving concern, but made no attempt to butt in. He'd said that Ernie wanted Doralee back. I'd seen Doralee kiss Ernie this afternoon. Sure, it was nothing but a chaste peck on the cheek, but would she have kissed Ernie with Zach looking on?

Not unless she was out of her gourd.

*   *   *

Nearly three hours after we'd gone to the inn and found Kim dead, Detective Shoar finished questioning Doralee and Zach and cut them loose. Well, for the evening and with restrictions. They were to go to the station the next day to sign their statements, and they were not to leave town.

The couple politely argued that they lived only about an hour and a half away, Zach in Texarkana, Doralee on a little acreage outside of the city, and they'd gladly return to Lilyvale if needed. That didn't fly, although Shoar conceded that
Zach could leave town for his job as a security alarm technician. Apparently Zach had a healthy security clearance, and Shoar decided he was trustworthy.

I thought about asking Zach to look at the emporium's security measures. Then again, no. I didn't want to make waves with the security consultant and installation guy we already had. Greg Masters was, after all, a buddy of the Silver Six—Dab and Aster in particular. And he'd done a good job, thankfully. In a small town, it had to be a touchy thing to fire a friend—or a friend's company—without igniting a feud.

I made a quick call to Sherry to confirm that Doralee and Zach were welcome and flat out expected at the farmhouse. If they wanted a full meal, it was minutes from the table. If they wanted a snack, that'd be ready in two shakes of a lamb's tail.

Rain pelted the couple as they dashed for Doralee's SUV. I'd given Doralee an umbrella, one of several spares we kept in Fred's workshop space. I'd also brought the critters downstairs with us to see if they wanted to go out. They showed zip interest in getting soaked, so the three of us watched Zach and Doralee drive away.

Detective Shoar had stayed upstairs to make a call, and now I heard his footsteps descending the staircase.

“Do you know how Kim died?” I asked as he joined me.

“I have to hand it to you, Nixy,” he said on a tired chuckle. “You don't soft-peddle your curiosity.”

“Hey, no law against asking.”

“But you know I can't tell you.”

“I know, I know. The state medical examiner in Little Rock does the autopsy to determine cause of death, all the evidence goes to the state lab in Little Rock. You won't have any reports or results for at least several days if not several weeks.”

“You've got it. Listen, I need to get back to talk with the Tylers. They're fit to be tied that someone died at their inn.”

“I can only imagine,” I said, feeling sorrier for Lorna Tyler than I did for her husband, Clark. Mr. Personality he was not. “I hope this mess convinces them to install security cameras.”

“We can hope. Before I go, I need a couple of things from you. Can we sit?”

“Sure.” I led him to a workbench with the mismatched barstools from Doralee's class, and plopped on one. “Shoot.”

Moving in his usual unhurried gait, he sat facing me, one boot heel hooked on a rung. Then he opened his spiral again, laid it on the worktable, uncapped his pen. I couldn't read what he'd written, but noticed double question marks here and there.

“First, can you confirm what Ms. Gordon told me? You both went into the guest room, but only you touched Ms. Thomason?”

“On her neck, in three places.”

He did a double take. “Three?”

“I had my eyes closed when I felt for her pulse.” I shrugged at his disbelieving expression. “I didn't want to see any more than I already had.”

“And then you both went to the hallway and stayed there?”

“We did. Scout's honor.”

He arched a brow. “Were you ever a Scout?”

“No, but I dated one. Scott the Scout.”

“Naturally.” He grinned. My past dating life had been active yet painfully platonic, and had become a source of his teasing me. “Now, what about that room key? I tend to believe Ms. Gordon is telling the truth, but if it was secure in her purse, how did it turn up missing?”

I flashed on that afternoon. Thinking I'd heard the front door close when I entered the farmhouse with Doralee and Zach. Finding the front door ajar when it should've been dead-bolted.

I relayed that to Shoar, and added, “I know it's thin, but
you know how security conscious Sherry and the gang have been since April. And before you say it, no, they didn't have the back door locked most of the day. One of them was supposed to be in the kitchen or on the deck at all times to keep guests out of the house.”

“You're thinking someone slipped in? Ms. Thomason?”

“Unless she swiped the key at some other point and made a copy, how did she get into Doralee's room?”

“How indeed?” He tapped his pen on the paper. “Okay, did you see anyone else in the alley before you went inside?”

I started to say no, but then remembered. “Oh, my gosh, yes, Eric. In the drama, I forgot. I almost hit a dark pickup with oversized tires when it sped out of the alley right in front of me. Not monster truck huge, but big enough. I think they're called mudders. For off-roading, you know?”

“I do, but how did you conclude that?”

“Matt the Mechanic, a guy I dated, loved the things. And I'm pretty sure the truck from the alley was splattered with mud, too.”

“You see the driver?”

“Not the truck's driver. I didn't have a good angle, and the storm closing in made it pretty dark by then. But when I turned into the lot behind the inn, a woman driving a silver Audi nearly clipped me. A man was in the passenger seat. My headlights picked them out.”

“Can you give me descriptions? License plates?”

“Sorry, both near-misses happened too fast.”

He dragged his free hand through his dark brown hair, his frustration obvious. “One last thing for now. Do you know anything about these people that can help me? Are the ex-spouses enemies? Are the parties jealous of each other? Did you notice anyone harboring hard feelings?”

I drew a circle on the pockmarked surface of the table, debating what to say for a moment. When I looked up, his steady brown eyes bored into me.

“First, you need to understand I don't know any of them
well. What I tell you I've drawn from observation, and what Doralee has said in conversation.” I shrugged. “She talks a lot.”

“In other words, you got an earful tonight while you were waiting for me.”

I nodded. He didn't seem upset, but I launched into speech before he could lecture me. “To start with, Doralee and Ernie are more or less cordial to each other. Ernie and Zach pretty much ignored each other the only time I saw them together. I believe Kim—Ms. Thomason—was jealous of Doralee, but not necessarily in the way you would assume.”

“Explain.”

“Kim wasn't jealous of Doralee's previous relationship with Ernie or anything. She wanted an opal that Doralee has. Ernie was impatient with Kim nagging him about it, but in a put-his-foot-down kind of way.”

“Is this an opal Mr. Boudreaux gave his ex?”

“Actually, no. Doralee bought it, had planned to put it in a ring or something, and then give it to Ernie. They divorced before that happened. Technically it never belonged to Ernie, but from what I overheard, Kim thought it should, and she wanted the stone.”

“Assuming Ms. Thomason was the one who ransacked the guest room, do you think she was searching for this opal?”