A Deadly Dealer

by J. B. Stanley

  “Look outside the door,” Clara replied calmly. “I think you’ll find we’re under police protection.”

  “Whew,” Molly said, waving to the bored officer seated on an uncomfortable metal folding chair in the hallway.

  “Still, no room service for us tonight. Let’s eat at that Italian restaurant in the Garden section. It’s got such a soothing atmosphere with soft lights, calm music, and a signature tiramisu. I could go for some veal tortellini tossed in a creamy cheese sauce and a big heel of homemade bread.”

  “And a huge cocktail,” Clara added. “I mean, my glass had better be the size of a fishbowl.”

  “What are we going to do once we get home, Ma?” Molly fretted after giving the waiter her order. Despite the calm and romantic setting Ristorante Volare provided, Molly was unable to relax. She kept examining the faces of the other diners, searching for traces of latent violence in the body language or in the eyes of the strangers seated around her. None of the other dealers were present. Those who lived within driving distance had already packed up, and having obtained permission from the police, promptly left Nashville. Only a small handful were staying over another night with plans to leave early the next morning.

  Molly couldn’t help but wonder: Was the killer gone or was he still in the hotel somewhere, watching?

  “Neither of us have alarms in our houses,” she reminded Clara. “We don’t even have big dogs. Unless I cover the killer with Reddi-wip, my cats won’t bother themselves by attacking him.”

  “I’ve always got the option of staying with Lex and Kitty, but they only have one spare bed, so there’s only one choice left for you,” Clara said, ripping off a chunk of warm bread from a napkin-lined basket. “You’ll have to make up with Mark and move in with him until things are safe again.”

  Molly stopped chewing. “Fat chance. I’m not quite ready to let Mark off the hook. Besides, Butler will have his man before we board the plane tomorrow. He’s got the best track record in the state for closing cases, remember?” Clara ordered a second cocktail. “Right,” she said dubiously. When the waiter returned with her drink, she took a mighty swallow.

  Chapter 13

  “ Straight canes with multiple inner lives do not want to attract attention. This explains why many of them were not kept after the owner passed away, they were either removed or banished to the attic. There they were found by children, their secrets were detected and their content was dispersed, broken or lost.” Ulrich Klever, Walkingsticks

  Early Monday morning Molly was brushing her teeth with her new electronic toothbrush when the sound of forceful knocking on her hotel room door made her jump.

  The sudden movement caused the toothbrush to pop out of her mouth and vibrate madly in the air, thoroughly spraying Molly’s black turtleneck sweater with Aquafresh.

  Swallowing a laugh as she passed the bathroom, Clara opened the door to Detective Butler.

  “Good morning, ladies.” Butler tried to sound upbeat but the weariness in his face and the look of defeat in his eyes betrayed his true feelings. “I wanted a word with you before you left for the airport.”

  Clara took a seat in one of the room’s two chairs while Molly stood nearby, dabbing helplessly at her sweater with a damp washcloth.

  Butler also remained standing, but his body sagged against the desk and he took a long sip of coffee from a large, insulated travel cup before speaking again. “As of today, we have yet to make any arrests. Without going into further detail on how the case stands at the moment, I’ve come to give you a warning.” He glanced at both women.

  “Since you listed different towns as addresses on your statements, I assume that you don’t exactly live next door to one another. Do you both live alone?” Molly nodded while Clara said, “If you can count seven cats taking up every chair, couch, countertop, and available bed alone, then yes.”

  “What about alarm systems?” Butler continued, ignoring Clara’s flippant response.

  “Neither of us,” Molly answered.

  “But!” Clara piped up. “I do have my father’s old shotgun and I’d love an excuse to use it. I’m sure I’m still a great shot.” She paused. “I guess I should clean it, though.

  It hasn’t been oiled in over ten years.” Butler balled his fists in annoyance. “I don’t know why I’m bothering with you two. I should hand out your addresses on fliers and hope that this nutcase finds you.” Clara’s eyes grew huge. Butler looked instantly remorseful and subsequently began rubbing his head in a most agitated manner. Molly expected sparks to ignite on the tips of the detective’s short hair. “Sorry,” he said, “but seriously, you should both find other places to live until we nail this guy. I’ve got leads—so don’t get too worried. And I still can’t figure out why the killer tried to take you out in the first place, but be on your guard.” He glared at Molly.

  “No early morning walks in the deep woods or late-night strolls in empty parking lots, got it?”

  “Yes, sir.” Molly took his outstretched hand and shook it. “I’ve learned my lesson about detecting. I’m obviously no good at it.”

  Butler shifted uneasily on his feet. “All right, then. One of my guys is going to run you to the airport. He’s waiting outside in a squad car. Now, you’ve got my card, so call me if anything comes up. I’ve got a few more dealers to talk to before they hightail it outta here, so take care.”

  “We will, thank you, Detective. Good luck!” Molly closed the door and finished packing her suitcase. The phone rang and Clara answered it. She murmured into the receiver, glanced at her watch, and then said, “All right. See you in a bit.”

  Molly heaved her bag off the bed and gave one last swipe at her sweater with the washcloth. “Who was that?”

  “Grayson,” Clara replied and suddenly became very busy packing her cosmetic bag. “He’s ordered a light breakfast for us and has it set out in his room. I told him we’ve only got a few minutes, but I’d rather eat the hotel’s food than some fast-food junk at the airport.”

  “That’s fine. I’m sure we won’t be late for our flight anyway.” Molly smiled. “If there’s any traffic, our police escort can turn on the sirens and ride on the shoulder.” Clara propped open the hotel room door and waved Molly onward. “Let’s go, madam. I’ve had it with Nashville.

  I can’t wait to go home and kiss my cats.” Grayson opened the door to his suite wearing a maroon smoking jacket over a white dress shirt and charcoal slacks. Molly didn’t even know that smoking jackets were still available for sale, but she thought Grayson looked more like Sean Connery than ever in such an aristocratic piece of clothing.

  “Good morning, ladies.” He gestured toward the balcony. “I thought we’d breakfast outside. Might as well enjoy the scenery for a few moments longer.” Examining the cluttered surface of the linen-covered table on Grayson’s balcony, it appeared as though he had ordered a sampling of the entire menu. There was a rasher of bacon, a deep dish of scrambled eggs, slabs of ham, a tall stack of pancakes and another of Belgian waffles, an assortment of toast and rolls, and a basket of cinnamon buns.

  “What? No grits?” Clara teased, but Grayson instantly sprang to a set of covered bowls set up on a side table and whipped off the covers. One bowl contained grits and the other, oatmeal. Clara gestured at the feast. “Have you invited all the members of the Turkey Hunters convention, too?”

  “I didn’t know what your favorite breakfast food was, so I just ordered a bit of everything,” Grayson admitted sheepishly, pulling out a chair for Clara.

  Clara poured coffee into the three cups set out on the table. “Actually, I like grits and Swedish pancakes from IHOP the most, so you’ve got one out of two.”

  “Ah, Swedish pancakes with lingonberries,” Grayson mused. “I enjoy those as well.”

  Another score for Grayson, Molly thought, piling generous portions of bacon, eggs, and raisin toast onto her plate. She would start her diet on Tuesday for certain.

  “There’s a specific reason I asked
you both to join me before you left for the airport,” Grayson said after the two women had eaten their fill. “I would like to offer you my home in Charleston as a refuge until the individual responsible for this weekend’s unfortunate events is apprehended.

  I am leaving for a buying trip in England and the house will be empty, but it has an advanced security system and a guard routinely drives by the property.” He took Clara’s hand. “There is a flight to Charleston leaving just minutes after your scheduled flight to Raleigh-Durham. I can have you both on that flight with one quick call. You can buy clothes and whatever else you require for a longer stay once you reach my home. I’ll have a driver at your disposal.” He gazed at Clara fondly. “I cannot express how much it means to me that both of you remain safe.”

  Clara returned Grayson’s affectionate look but removed her hand from his. “That is such a nice offer, Grayson, and at any other time I would gladly accept. I love Charleston!

  But I have to work. We’ve got a big catalog sale coming up and there’s a rumor that the Hogg family is going to sell their ancestral home with all of its contents. Lex has been in contact with the family, but they’d like me to be present when the contract terms are discussed.” She rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “It’s the kind of sale I’ve dreamed about and I’ve got to be in Hillsborough to close the deal.” She scowled fiercely. “Besides, no one is going to force me to change my behavior. Not even a murderer,” she added with conviction. “He’d better watch out if he interferes with the Hogg contract. I’ve got a big gun and I know how to use it.”

  Grayson chuckled. “Somehow, that was the answer I expected, so I’ve contacted a friend of mine. He’s a former FBI field agent. Retired now, but he takes on an occasional job.” He paused, studying both women. “I’ve hired him to keep an eye on your houses. He’ll be in a dark blue Cadillac, so if you see one patrolling your street, that’s my friend Roy.”

  “That is very kind of you, Mr. Montgomery. Thank you.” Molly spoke up as her mother seemed to be at a loss for words.

  “This is for my peace of mind, more than anything,” he said graciously. “I’ll enjoy my trip abroad much more knowing that someone is looking after you both.” Clara stood, obviously flustered. “We really should go.

  Thank you, Grayson.”

  Grayson also rose and then leaned over and kissed Clara softly on the cheek. “Look after yourself until I return.” Clara flushed and headed for the door.

  “One moment, Molly.” Grayson touched her on the arm and spoke very softly. “I can see that you and your mother have a close relationship. Therefore, I would like to ask your permission to, well, to use an old-fashioned term, to court Clara. She is the most remarkable woman I have ever met.”

  Molly beamed. “Of course! Give it your best shot, Mr.

  Montgomery. I’m behind you all the way.”

  “Please, call me Grayson. And I have a gift for you.” He placed a book-shaped package wrapped in red tissue paper in her hands. “No need to open it now. It’s just a small token. Your mother mentioned that you enjoyed the writing of Agatha Christie and I figured after the weekend you’ve had, you deserve a little treat. Have a safe flight home.” Inside the squad car, Clara released a heavy sigh. “That man is something else! What did he say to you while we were leaving?”

  “He wants to date you, Ma, and he asked for my blessing. I gave it to him, naturally. You’d be an idiot not to at least give him a chance.”

  Clara shrugged. “Who said I wasn’t going to? He likes cats, after all.”

  “He has quite a list of admirable qualities,” Molly said.

  “He also gave me this.” She held out the wrapped parcel.

  “As a bribe?” Clara issued a mock frown.

  “I highly doubt it. I had already told him to abduct you if necessary.” She tore off the tissue and examined the book. “Wow,” she breathed. It was a signed first edition copy of The ABC Murders. “Ma, your boyfriend is so cool.”

  “Boyfriend!” Clara took the book from Molly’s hands.

  “Ugh. That’s going to take some getting used to.” As it turned out, there was absolutely no need for the twentysomething officer driving the Applebys to the airport to employ his siren, though it looked as though nothing would have pleased him more. In between telling the two women why he had joined the force, Officer Reynolds casually imparted the news that most of the flights departing from Nashville International were delayed due to a front of heavy rains bearing down from the plains states.

  “A perfect ending to a miserable trip,” Molly stated glumly. She hated sitting around at airports and didn’t want too much dead time on her hands. If she wasn’t busy, she’d start thinking about Mark. Her anger toward Mark would then cause her to rehash her failure to help Detective Butler find the Heart of Dixie Killer. The two subjects were likely to cause her to spiral into a state of complete depression.

  Officer Reynolds insisted on accompanying the women to their gate, despite their protests that there was plenty of security in the airport already. As the threesome approached the boarding area, Molly was relieved to see that their flight had not yet been delayed. If they were lucky, they’d be airborne within the next half-hour.

  Molly thanked the young officer and joined her mother in one of the few available seats. Disgruntled passengers were complaining loudly on cell and pay phones about their tardy flights while bored and restless children ran wildly about the area, their parents too tired to correct the rowdy behavior. Most of the people seated around them had their faces hidden in books and newspapers and only surfaced to take giant gulps of coffee, glance with irritation at their watches, or to shoot dirty looks at the gate attendants as if the men and women were personally responsible for the inclement weather.

  Clearly excited by the possibility that one of these unhappy travelers might suddenly become hostile, Reynolds began strolling around the boarding area, darting sharp glances at the wayward children or invading the personal space of those being too vociferous on their cell phones.

  “Now that’s a good cop,” Molly declared. She quickly changed her mind, however, as Reynolds began to aggressively question the passenger who had just arrived to their gate via electric car. The skycap handling the passenger’s luggage momentarily blocked Molly’s view, but as he stepped aside, she was able to see Dennis Frazier. The expression on his face was a combination of puzzlement and dismay as Reynolds pointed repeatedly at Frazier’s cane and then began to furiously punch numbers into his cell phone. Molly hustled over to Dennis’s side, prepared to defend him against the zealous officer.

  “Are you okay?” she asked him. “What’s going on?”

  “This young policeman seems to believe that my walking stick is stolen property. I’ve been trying to tell him that I’ve had it for years but he won’t accept my story. I believe he’s been unsuccessful in reaching Detective Butler, yet he isn’t going to let me board my plane.” He smiled sadly. “I believe we are on the same flight.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Blood boiling, Molly tugged on Officer Reynolds’s sleeve as he finished leaving a long voicemail message for Butler. “Mr. Frazier has been using this cane since the beginning of the show. I saw it myself on both Friday and Saturday.” She lowered her voice. “The missing cane has a snake’s head. Mr. Frazier’s cane has a hand holding a bird as a handle. Just look at it!” Reynolds put his hands on his hips and put on his best authoritative look. “I can’t take your word on this, ma’am.

  You’re a civilian.”

  The passengers in the waiting area stirred as the gate attendant announced that preboarding had begun.

  “They’re playing my song,” Dennis said to Reynolds.

  “ ‘People who need a little extra time.’ That’s me!” He turned to the skycap. “Ready, Harry?”

  “Yessir.” Harry, who closely resembled a professional linebacker, brushed Reynolds’s shoulder as he moved past the young cop, bearing Dennis Frazier’s carry-on.

/>   “You have no right to detain him,” Molly hurriedly whispered to Reynolds. “Butler let him go or he wouldn’t be here right now. Just look at the poor man.” Reynolds watched Frazier hobble toward the gate attendant, his boarding pass crumpled in the hand that bore down on his walking stick as his splinted hand curled uselessly at his side. “Yeah, guess he doesn’t quite fit the profile. I’d better get back to the hotel. There’s still some dealers we’ve gotta give the thumbs-up to before they can roll on out. Have a good flight.” He smiled and walked off.

  By the time Molly and Clara boarded, Dennis was already seated in first class. As she walked by, Molly tried to catch the folk art dealer’s eye, but he was staring out the window, his face as dark as the heavy sky. Molly longed to say something kind to him, but decided that it was best to let the troubled man alone.

  As if watching Dennis’s humiliation weren’t enough to sour Molly’s mood, the presence of the passenger who would be sitting to her right for the duration of the flight made her want to cry. It was Al, insurance salesman and nightmare extraordinaire to women in airplanes across the nation.

  The plane had barely touched ground when Molly had unbuckled her seat belt and prepared to flee the confines of the claustrophobic space. After bearing the agony of listening to every last detail of Al’s fun-filled and lucrative weekend in combination with his fetid breath and the pounds of flesh that continuously invaded the area below their shared armrest for two hours, Molly was ready to use the emergency exit over the wing to get away. Unfortunately for her, runway traffic at the Raleigh-Durham airport was heavily backed up due to the rain, which fell in violent sheets and made the black runways look slick as polished onyx. They sat on the tarmac for thirty minutes and then finally began a slow crawl to the gate.

  “Hallelujah, I’m free at last!” Molly sang as she and Clara escaped the stale air inside the airplane in exchange for the tantalizing smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon buns at a café near their gate. The rain continued to pour down outside the terminal windows and another batch of glum passengers paced restlessly around the waiting area.