After I hung up from talking to her I checked to see if the two women I talked to were Facebook friends. They weren't, so I doubted if they knew each other, since both of them had a lot of Facebook friends. I then Googled Georgetown and the only match I got was for Georgetown's Market & Deli. There was no picture of the guy, but the address was the same as the one the first woman had given me. So far I hadn't connected him to Portwood, Grimes, or anyone else that was connected with the case, so I wasn't sure if it would lead somewhere or would be a dead-end, like most of my hunches.
33
I made another call, hoping to find out something that would help me solve the case in my lifetime.
"This is Jake Cartwright. America's foremost author."
"And this is Lt. Dekker. America's foremost detective."
"You calling about my books or Cereal's murder?"
"Let's say it has more to do with the murder. Do you know a guy named Dan Grimes?"
"No. Should I? Does he write books? I've heard of Martha Grimes. She writes mysteries. But I don't know any Dan Grimes."
"I'm familiar with Martha Grimes. I've read some of her books. But Dan Grimes isn't an author. He promotes authors. So, you're saying he's never contacted you about promoting you as an author?"
"No. I've never had anyone call me, except a couple of small publishing houses that were interested in printing my books. I like my current set-up, so I always turned them down. Some of them I've gotten to know better since I first talked to them, but I don't remember talking to a guy named Grimes."
"Do you know how well Portwood knew him?"
"You're still talking about this Grimes guy?"
"That's right."
"As far as I know, Cereal didn't know him."
"You never saw him at the book fair."
"I couldn't tell you that. A lot of people come to the book fair. Can you shoot me a picture of him?"
"Go to Facebook. Type in his name."
"Hold on a minute. Let me get my laptop."
A couple of minutes later, he came back.
"I looked at him. He looked vaguely familiar, but I don't think I've seen him lately. Do you think he's your murderer?"
"Not unless he can kill someone from Indiana."
"I wanted to kill someone from Indiana once."
"I mean he was in Indiana at the time Portwood was murdered."
"Maybe it was a really slow-acting poison."
"Could be. But I don't think it was that slow. My guy tells me Portwood was probably poisoned on Saturday, but it could have been Friday. So far you're my best suspect."
"I plead the fifth. I know a guy who was in Texas over the weekend. Maybe he did it."
"I've got him on my list. That's all I needed to know this time. I'll call you again when I need you, or stop by when I'm ready to arrest you."
"Call me first. I want to get cleaned up before you get here."
"Maybe I'll just use you as a source of information." "I'll have my thinking cap on."
+++
It wasn't until I hung up from talking to Jake Cartwright that I remembered that I had forgotten to check on Dan Grimes's whereabouts over the weekend. I went to his Facebook page and clicked on his photos. Someone had uploaded lots of photos for the wedding that Grimes was supposed to have attended. Evidently he had attended the wedding, because he was in a few of the photos at someone's house, and at the wedding reception. There was even one of him in the background as the bride and groom walked down the aisle after they were pronounced husband and wife. And the wedding was at 2:00 on Saturday.
Grimes had given me his brother-in-law's name and phone number, and the name of the place where he stayed. I called both places. The motel confirmed that he had checked in a little after 1:00 on Friday and checked out at 10:12 on Sunday morning. His brother-in-law confirmed that he had joined the family on Friday afternoon and was with them until after 11:00 that night. He also said that Grimes joined some of the family for breakfast early Saturday morning, and again on Sunday morning before he left town. Most of the family were together until after 10:00 on Saturday night, and Grimes was one of those people at that gathering. Technically Grimes could have driven back to Kentucky on either Friday night or Saturday night to murder Portwood, but it was a three-and-a-half hour drive each way, so that was doubtful. That meant that Grimes had to be the murderer. The others were too close to where Portwood was murdered.
I hung up and called the motel where Grimes said he stayed. Well, he must have stayed there, because he showed me proof of it. I talked to a guy at the front desk, told him who I was, and that I was working on a murder investigation, and asked him if he remembered a guy named Dan Grimes.
"I don't remember most people by name, but him I remember. I got off work at 11:00, but hung around a while talking to my replacement. I'd say it was just before midnight when Grimes walked into the lobby. It turned out that he was a big UK basketball fan, and I'm a big IU fan, so we talked basketball in the lounge for over an hour. He told me he was up here for a wedding. He stayed here Saturday night too, but he must have gotten back here after I got off work, because I left right after I got off that night and I didn't see him walk in. Of course, he could have come in when I had my back turned or stepped away from the desk for a minute. We're not usually that busy late at night. Most everyone checks in by 8:00."
I thanked the guy for his time and hung up without discussing basketball. I thought about telling him that the UK and UofL basketball coaches and were together on Saturday, but I didn't want to brag about who I hung out with.
I did the math. If Grimes left for Frankfort right after the guy at the motel left for the night, and he poisoned Portwood quickly and rushed back to the motel in Indiana, he could have been back by 8:00. But supposedly, he was already eating breakfast with family by then. Maybe if I used the new math I could work it in that Grimes was the murderer.
I didn't feel too good about the chances of either of Portwood's neighbors murdering him, either. I couldn't see either one of them waiting for him at his garage, handing him something to drink as he drove into the garage, and saying, "Here, drink this. It will be good for me."
And as much as I didn't like Portwood's brother or sister, I didn't see either of them being in close enough proximity to poison him at the book fair. Too many witnesses. And when he left, he left with Cartwright, who admitted to being with him. When does a murderer admit to being with the victim? Particularly since I don't think I could find a witness who could state that Portwood and Cartwright were together.
It was beginning to look like my best suspect would be a hitchhiker Portwood picked up on his way home. Maybe the guy robbed Portwood of the $50,000 he was still carrying and poisoned him so he wouldn't tell anyone about it. My brain was on overload. It was time to quit thinking so much and make another phone call.
+++
Bob Barney was next on my list. I called him to see if Portwood had had any visitors in the last six months. He said that Portwood was in and out every few days, sometimes for a few hours, but that he didn't remember one time when someone had come to see him. He also said he didn't remember himself having any visitors or Millie Longacre having any, either. None of them had any family, other than the brother and sister Portwood didn't speak to, and none of them were sociable people. But they did their best to help each other out whenever one of them needed something. He said maybe it was time for him to look in on Millie to see if she needed anything.
"Do you have any idea if she left her place anytime Friday or Saturday?"
"She left once. Went into town to the grocery and to run errands."
"When was that and how long was she gone?"
"I'm thinking it was Friday around noon. I think she was gone maybe a couple of hours tops."
"And she didn't leave again after that?"
"I don't think she's been out of her house since then. Well, other than when she went over to find Cyril's body."
"You said you thought she we
nt over to Portwood's Saturday night."
"I still think she did, but she says she didn't."
"What about you?"
"I haven't been anywhere, although I'll need to go to the grocery at the end of the week."
+++
I had run out of ideas that would help me move the case along when my phone rang. It was Jennifer.
"Cy, all the restaurants around here are so close by, and Thelma Lou and I sure would like to see what we think of that new van of yours. Are you too tired to go to Lexington for dinner?"
I really was, but I wanted to see her. And then I thought of something.
"Hey, I've got an idea. How about tomorrow we can all go to Cincinnati and eat at The Cheesecake Factory?"
"I like your idea better, and if Thelma Lou doesn't, I can talk her into it. So, tonight, how about coming over here for a little while. Maybe I can whip up some soup and sandwiches, or spaghetti and meatballs?"
"Soup and sandwiches sound fine. Are we inviting those other two?"
"If we don't, they might find out."
"I don't care, but I guess we ought to invite them."
34
We took off for Cincinnati right after church. We got to The Cheesecake Factory right at 2:30. We were told there was a thirty minute wait. For a parking place. No, actually while it's hard to find parking in a mall with a Cheesecake Factory, we lucked out and only had to wait thirty minutes for a table for four. I had heard that the best time to have a short wait at a Cheesecake Factory is between 3:00-4:00 in the afternoon. I suspected the line was shorter at 2:00 a.m., but there would be a longer wait for a table.
The problem I have with the Cheesecake Factory is that they only offer around one hundred entree choices and fifty cheesecake choices. It's a good thing they have desserts other than cheesecake. I figured I could work my way around the Cheesecake Factory's menu in just a few months. All I needed was to live some place that had a Cheesecake Factory and a Pancake Pantry. I had heard that Nashville had both. And they were both on the same road. Maybe I would be moving to Tennessee. I would have all my dining choices taken care of and I would pray that God would take care of my metabolism. I knew what it meant to be short for my weight. I didn't want that to happen again.
+++
I woke up Monday morning and immediately called Lou. I knew he would be up. Lou is an early bird.
"Good morning, Lou, do you have today's clue?"
"I'm doing fine, and you, Cy?"
"I'll be better when you tell me today's clue. I want to get this thing solved. Has God already given you the clue?"
"Well, He did say He thinks you need to pray for more patience."
"I don't think He said that."
"He must have. It's the truth. Remember, I don't get these clues by audio books. It's more of a silent transfer from the smartest of all to one of the smartest human beings."
"I know. That's what I'm waiting for. The transfer to one of the smartest of human beings. Let's start over. Good morning, Lou. I hope you rested well. I'm concerned about your well being. By the way, do you by any chance have today's clue for solving this murder?"
"What do you think I am, a fortune cookie?"
"No. Someone who provides little to the solution of our cases other than being a go-between who receives a clue each day."
"A clue which God doesn't trust you with."
"No, a clue that is your only contribution to each case."
"So, do you want me to go ahead and tell you who did it?"
"As long as you don't say the murderer."
"Okay. It was Portwood."
"You think he committed suicide?"
"No, I think he's the only one who couldn't be the murderer, so I mentioned his name just in case my lucky guess would be right and mess up your entire week."
"Just tell me today's clue."
"Who wrote it?"
"Who wrote what?"
"Today's clue."
"I don't think anyone wrote it. You said God gives it to you in your thoughts each day. At any point, I don't know. Who did write it?"
"Write what?"
"It."
"Today's clue."
"I don't think anyone wrote it. I think God whispered it into your feeble brain."
"1 Kings 19."
"1 Kings 19 what?"
"That tells about the time God appeared in a gentle whisper. Remember, He wasn't in the fire. He wasn't in the wind. He was in a gentle whisper."
"Unlike you who will be in the fire if you don't tell me today's clue."
"Patience, my friend."
"Is there any chance God would be willing to share his clues with Heather?"
"Oh, I don't think I'm the only one God communicates with."
"Let's pick up on that. And did He in a gentle whisper tell you what today's clue is?"
"It was silent. I didn't hear anything. But today's clue is who wrote it."
"And He didn't tell you what it is?"
"That would make it too easy."
"I'm ready to be retired again. I'm all for easy."
"So you think someone wrote Portwood's books for him and he paid them $50,000 a year to do it? And maybe they found out he was worth a lot of money and asked for more?"
"No, I think Portwood wrote James Patterson's books."
"Well, Bert McHugh, Portwood's lawyer, did say he didn't think anyone could blackmail Portwood."
"And I say neither one of us has a clue what it is."
"I think we're in agreement. I thought we were through with all this tough stuff when we retired."
"That's what we get for being good at what we do and people find out about it."
"And I have no idea what it is. But I don't think it's Portwood's books. Otherwise God would have given me, 'Who wrote them?'"
"Sounds logical."
"So, for the time being we have something else to worry about."
"Except that the Bible tells us not to worry."
35
Just after I ended my call with Lou, Herb Wainscott called. He informed me that he was able to pull some strings, and I could check with those Frankfort banks as soon as we got back there. I called Lou and we got things in motion.
We spent the first part of our trip listening to some of the big band sounds of the forties, then switched over to the fifties station. My parents listened to music of both decades. I can remember the time when I was growing up when they would put some 45s on the hi-fi and dance to those songs of the fifties. They loved Elvis, Pat Boone, Frankie Avalon, Dion, and a lot of doo-wop. They loved The Platters and the Mills Brothers. But that was mainly slow stuff. They would push all the living room chairs out of the way and start dancing. I loved watching them dance to some of those fast songs. Mom kept trying to get me up to dance with her, but I kept pulling away. Now, I'm thinking about taking dancing lessons. Am I turning into my parents?
+++
Our first stop when we got to Frankfort was Georgetown's Market & Deli. We walked in and immediately I spotted someone who matched the description I was given for Georgetown.
"You must be Georgetown. We have a couple of friends in common. Cyril Portwood and Dan Grimes."
The man looked like he was thinking.
"Neither name sounds familiar. Are you sure I know them?"
"I thought you did. How about Lori Wildwood and Jonnetta Jarvis?"
"Oh, those two lovely ladies I know. They stop in from time to time. They're both authors, you know. And just getting started. I've tried to help them get off to a good start in their writing career."
"And how did you do that?"
"Well, I'll tell you as long as you don't let it get back to them. I have a couple of customers who love reading mysteries. I do, too. When I found out both women had written a book I bought a copy, and really enjoyed both books. Have you read them yet?"
"I've bought both of them, but I've been too busy to read them so far. But I'm looking forward to it."
"Please read them. And te
ll others about them."
"You were about to tell me something that I can't repeat to either author."
"Oh, yeah! Well, like I said, I have a couple of customers who enjoying reading mysteries as much as I do, so I asked them to go to the book fair and buy a book by both women, and to find some friends who would be willing to do the same."
"How much money did you give them?"
"How did you know I gave anyone money?"
"I talked to one of the women you gave money to."
"Then you probably already know that I gave each one a hundred dollars. Remember. This is our secret. Don't let it get back to those charming women."
"So, did they write down the authors' names, so they wouldn't forget?"
"No, I was prepared for that. I gave each one a printed copy with both women's names on it, and the name of their books."
"And did you give anyone else money to buy books?"
"No. I don't have enough money to make them millionaires. Just enough to get them off to a good start. I hope both of them did well that day."
"I think they did. And you don't know those men I asked you about?"
"Maybe by face. You wouldn't happen to have a picture of them, would you?"
"As a matter of fact, I do."
I had an envelope in my hand that contained a picture of each of the people involved in the case. I pulled out a picture of those two and Georgetown looked at it.
"No, I don't think either of them has been in here. Neither of them look familiar, but then I see a lot of people."
"One more question. How did you get the nickname Georgetown?"
"Well, when I first got to Frankfort, as a young guy, I kept talking about missing home. Georgetown. So my friends started calling me Georgetown, and the nickname stuck. Not a lot of people are called Georgetown, so it helps people remember me, and remember my place here."
Murder at the Book Fair Page 14