Dead, Bath, and Beyond

by Lorraine Bartlett

  “Some people don’t like spilling their lives to near strangers,” Ray said.

  “I just asked about his boat. That’s all, honest.”

  “Hmm. Okay.” Ray nodded. “But the only thing I know about him is he moved here from Glens Falls.”

  “He did?” Katie’s eyes went wide. “That’s where Josh grew up! Maybe they knew each other there. Maybe they had some sort of past together. Josh was a lot younger, but maybe he’d seen Duncan commit a crime and—”

  “Hang on, hang on.” Ray made calming motions with his hands. “Those are some big jumps you’re making. Let’s do a little research first, okay?” He stepped over to the table, sifted through a pile of wrapping materials, and pulled out an electronic tablet. “Let’s see what we can find on our Mr. McAllister.”

  Katie stood close to his elbow and watched as he started up a search engine and typed in the keywords.

  “Well, will you look at that.” Ray tapped at the screen, enlarging some text.

  The search engine had quickly turned up a June newspaper article about McAllister’s retirement. “He mentioned he was a teacher,” Katie said..

  “Middle school, looks like.” Ray scrolled through the article. “And he was a high school hockey coach.” He tapped again, and the screen was filled with a photo of a smiling Duncan holding a trophy, surrounded by a large group of grinning male adolescents in hockey gear. “Won the state championship a few years back, even.”

  Katie ran some quick mental math. “The ages aren’t right. Josh was too old to have been one of his students.”

  “Agreed,” Ray said. “And it’s hard to think that a guy like this could hold a grudge for decades and then come looking for Kimper to get his revenge. Still, you never know.”

  “No,” Katie said slowly, still looking at the photo. “You never do.”

  As usual, Katie would be the last one out the door at Artisans Alley that night. She’d long realized that the best way to win the loyalty of the vendors was to show that she was willing to do whatever it took to make the place run smoothly, so she, too, did more than her two days of chores per month.

  The job du jour was cleaning, and as she pushed the vacuum cleaner around, she decided that there was no reason not to consider cleaning as exercise. Her heart rate was certainly up, and she was using all sorts of muscles, twisting and stooping. When she had finished putting the vacuum away, she also decided that she’d worked hard enough to have earned a calzone for dinner. And, if she did a stint of dusting, an order of breadsticks.

  So, after another half hour of cleaning, she left the building just after sunset and locked the door behind her, feeling tired but pleased with how the sales floors looked. All the booths were well stocked, the quality of the sales items was high, and the empty booths she had were few and far between. If they weren’t filled for the holiday shopping season, she could either work to fill them with artificial Christmas trees and empty boxes wrapped with brightly colored paper, or offer them at half price short-term to whatever vendors were interested.

  Crossing the parking lot, Katie smiled to herself as she remembered that during her vacuuming efforts, she’d seen that either Sadie or Sasha—or maybe both—had repositioned the box that Ray had so carefully placed on the shelf.

  The Davenport daughters certainly seemed to have a good relationship with their father, and Katie pushed away thoughts of her own father and mother, who had died so many years ago. She forced her line of thinking back to Artisans Alley, which, thankfully, was easy for her to do, since there was so much to think about.

  She was glad that Ray was working out so well as a new vendor. Everyone she’d talked to seemed to like him, and Sadie and Sasha were upping the display game with their clever ideas. Katie smiled to herself, thinking she might incite an unspoken competition to make the booths even more attractive to shoppers. This was all to the good, as long as it stayed friendly and as long as no one got carried away with spending too much money. Katie’s smile turned into a full-blown grin as she anticipated what might happen in the coming weeks.

  “You have to wonder,” a voice said out of the dusk, “about a pretty woman, out for a walk all by herself, when she starts smiling for no apparent reason.”

  Katie started but relaxed when she quickly recognized the sturdy form of Warren Noth, pizza box in hand, approaching his truck in front of Angelo’s Pizzeria. “I was having happy thoughts,” she said lightly, “and I didn’t notice you parked there. Have you been working at Sassy Sally’s?”

  The contractor nodded. “Was there all day, but I stopped in at Wood U to get in a little work for Ray. Though the boys at Sassy’s are decent enough, they keep changing what they want, and that job’s taking longer than expected, but it’s more money in my pocket. Still, I hate having to delay the reopening of Wood U. Ray’s a good guy and doesn’t deserve it.”

  “He just opened a booth at Artisans Alley,” Katie said, “and he’s already doing fairly well.” She knew this because she kept a close eye on sales the first couple of months of a vendor’s tenure in the building, trying to figure out trends. Someday, maybe she’d be able to tell if a vendor would ultimately be successful within the first couple of months renting a booth.

  “I didn’t know that.” Glancing over at the old applesauce warehouse, Warren adjusted his Knighthawks ball cap. “Still, it can’t be the same as having a real storefront.”

  While that was true, Katie didn’t care for the insinuation that her business wasn’t real. The man probably hadn’t meant to be insulting, but that wasn’t the point. She started to edge away. “What were you working on tonight? I’ll probably see Ray tomorrow and can pass it on, if you’d like.”

  “Sounds good.” He took a few steps to the back of his pickup and leaned over to reach into the bed, which had a flat cover hinged at the top and popped up at the back. He pulled out a piece of squashed metal. “This was part of the intake for the HVAC system. I’ll take it to my heating and cooling guy, and he’ll figure out what we need.” Warren smiled. “Ray seemed to think the balance in there was great before the fire, so I’m trying to re-create it.”

  Katie didn’t like the condescending edge to his tone, but she was curious enough to say, “I didn’t know heating or cooling was so complicated.”

  “You’d be surprised.” Noth turned to put the chunk of metal back, and Katie, who’d by now moved closer, looked over the side of the truck and saw the expected collection of tools, boots, paint, and wood. She also saw, tucked away in a front corner, a coil of nylon rope sitting underneath a boat anchor.

  “Do you have a boat?” she asked innocently, remembering that Del had already told her he did. “It seems like every time I turn around, I learn that someone else I know has a boat.”

  Noth gave a short laugh that wasn’t much of a laugh at all. “I used to have a boat. I had it moored in a marina closer to Rochester. It sank in that big storm back in July.”

  “Oh, that’s awful! I’m so sorry,” Katie said. Then, because she couldn’t help herself, she added, “Did you have insurance?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, through McKinlay Insurance, but they’re taking forever and a day to pay out. I’ll be lucky if I get a check before next summer at the rate they’re moving.”

  Katie made some sympathetic comments about the slowness of insurance agencies, then said good night. Noth got in his truck and pulled out of the lot.

  McKinlay Insurance, he’d said. Hadn’t that been one of the companies to which Josh had been referring customers?

  Katie entered the pizzeria, the heavy brass jingle bells that hung on a leather strap on the door making a cheerful noise.

  “Hey there, sunshine!” Andy greeted Katie with a floury kiss. “What’s up?”

  Katie blushed a little at the display of affection, which was very public, what with his staff listening in. “I was doing cleanup at Artisans Alley today
, and it took longer than I thought it would.”

  Andy grinned. “Can’t just give it a lick and a polish and call it good, can you?”

  She cupped a hand to her ear. “Do I hear the pot calling the kettle black? Why yes, I think I do.”

  “Point taken. So did you stop by to help or to eat—or perhaps both?”

  As he was talking, the phone rang, and one of his employees hurried to answer it. Katie and Andy both ceased their conversation to listen.

  “Angelo’s Pizzeria, how may I help you?” Robbie said. “Yes, we’re still open, until ten . . . Yes, we . . .” His eyes went wide, and he whirled to face Andy. “Can we deliver five pizzas to the Village Hall? This isn’t a joke, is it? . . . Yessir, Mr. Mayor. I do remember you from our government class . . . Yessir, we can get five pizzas to your work session in . . .” Andy held up both his hands and flashed them three times. ”. . . in thirty minutes. You can depend on us, sir. Thanks for your call. Now, what did you want on them?”

  “Looks like I’m here to help,” Katie said, laughing and moving to stand behind the sales counter. “I can always eat later.”

  Andy, who was already hurrying back to the prep station, sent her an air-kiss. “I’ll love you forever if you cover the front. Thanks!”

  Forever? Katie’s chest tightened involuntarily then released as she acknowledged the humor underneath Andy’s statement. He’d been joking, that was all. He wasn’t serious about the forever thing. They’d moved to saying they loved each other, but there’d been no discussions of permanent commitment. Katie wasn’t ready for that—not yet.

  “Hey, what does it take to get some service around here?”

  Katie snapped to attention and faced the front of the store. “Sorry, ma’am, I—” Then she saw who was calling to her and grinned. “Then again, maybe I’m not so sorry.”

  “Now is that any way to treat your favorite veterinarian?” Dr. Joanne asked. “We’re here for a pickup. It might still have a few minutes to go.” She was joined by two men and another woman. “This is my husband, David Perkins, and our friends Mark and Leslie. Meet Katie Bonner.”

  “Bonner?” the female friend repeated.

  Katie nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

  The woman smiled. “Don Parsons and Nick Farrell are friends of ours. They’ve talked about you, how you’ve done such a great job with Artisans Alley in the last year, and almost single-handedly revived Victoria Square.”

  “They’re great guys,” Katie said, “but I can’t take credit for the Square’s revival. The Merchants Association has worked together as a team to bring about positive changes. I only hope that having Josh Kimper turn up dead in their bathtub doesn’t hurt Sassy Sally’s before it even opens.”

  The couple exchanged a glance. “We’re worried about the same thing,” the woman said.

  “Well, at least they both have alibis,” Katie said, sighing. “Having a dead body in your bed-and-breakfast is bad, but it would be a lot worse if one of them was suspected of murder.” She smiled, but no one standing before her smiled back. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “We were all at the same party,” Joanne said, her expression troubled. “Don left early.”

  Katie suddenly felt dizzy and rested her hands on the counter. “He . . . what?”

  “About an hour into the party, Don left. And he didn’t come back for almost two hours,” David said.

  “Pizza for Perkins,” Andy called out, holding a large, flat box. He grabbed a slip of paper and handed it to Katie so she could ring up the sale.

  Katie’s hands were shaking as she made change. Where on earth had Don been for two hours during the party? And was that enough time to drown a problem guest in the lake and haul the body back to Sassy Sally’s? But that would be stupid—criminally stupid.

  Still, she wondered . . . and worried.

  Eleven

  After the revelation about Don’s shattered alibi, Katie didn’t sleep well. She spent so much time tossing and turning, trying to find a position that would lull her into dreamland, that first Mason and then Della jumped off the bed to find a spot more accommodating to feline slumber.

  A weak morning sun, filtering its way through curtains and thin clouds, woke her just as the alarm went off. She slapped it off, blearily, remembering watching the hour change from one to two to three. She hadn’t seen four, but that was probably because she’d finally had the sense to flop the clock onto its face so she couldn’t see it.

  In the shower, she realized that though she’d hoped the warm water would open her eyes past the drowsy stage, it wasn’t doing the trick. She gritted her teeth and flipped the knob to cold, gasping at the shock.

  She forced herself to endure five full seconds of the arctic blast, then turned it off and hustled into a fluffy towel before she went into hypothermic shock.

  “At least I’m awake,” she told the cats, as she combed out her hair, “which is more than either of you are.”

  Della picked her head up, gave her one long blink, and settled back into sleep mode. Mason didn’t bother himself even that much, but he did purr when she gave him a pat on the head.

  Katie ate a quick breakfast of cold cereal and orange juice, left fresh food and water for her sleepy kitties, then headed out with one purpose in mind: to talk to Don Parsons. A solid drench of rain made her jump into her car to cross Victoria Square. Wet was fine walking home, but she didn’t want to sit in damp shoes all day long.

  She was only halfway across the Square when she began to question what she was about to do. She wanted to talk to Don alone, and if she barged into Sassy Sally’s, how was she going to pull him aside for a one-on-one?

  It would be easy enough to ask him to meet her at the bakery or at Del’s, but there would be open ears at both places, and she didn’t want anyone else to hear the discussion. She drove around aimlessly for a bit, then brightened as she came up with an idea.

  Whipping out her cell phone, she tapped at the Sassy Sally’s number and waited for the phone on the other end to ring.

  “Sassy Sally’s Inn, this is—”

  The loud whine of a circular saw drowned out the rest of the sentence. The saw was loud enough that Katie heard it from the phone and across the Square in real time.

  “Sorry about that. This is Don,” he said after the saw stopped. “How may I help you?”

  Katie laughed. “This is Katie, and how would you like a break?”

  “I will pay you in gold,” he said fervently. “How much do you want and where should I bring it?”

  “Gold isn’t necessary, but I could do with an oatmeal cookie from Tanner’s.”

  “On my way.” He paused. “Er, where am I going? I can’t bring Nick. He went to Rochester to check on a pedestal sink from a house renovation that might be the perfect fit for that upstairs bathroom.”

  “You’re the one I want,” Katie said. “We decorated our lobby for the harvest sale, and I want to get an outside opinion on whether it’s cheesy or wonderful.”

  “Be there in a jiffy.”

  And a jiffy it was. The first thing Katie had done after arriving was start the coffee, and the pot was only half full when Don knocked on the back door to the vendors’ lounge holding the requisite white bakery bag. She let him in.

  “Those cookies looked so good,” he said, “that I bought half a dozen. You’ve earned it for saving me from that horror of a construction site. If I had to spend another minute in there I was going to either go insane or kill someone, and neither option was attractive.”

  Katie stifled a sigh. She knew it was just an overused expression, but this was a bad time for him to joke about murder.

  “Okay,” Don said, pulling out a chair and ushering her into it. “You sit, I’ll dispense goodies, caffeinated and otherwise, and you’ll tell me what’s going on. I peeked through the front door and the
lobby looks outstanding, but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  She tucked her chair up to the table. “I did. But it’s nice to hear you say so.”

  In no time at all, Don had two mugs of coffee poured and the cookies arranged prettily on a plate he’d found in the cupboard. “Cheers,” he said, toasting her. After the inaugural sip, he pushed the plate of cookies toward her. “Now it’s cookie time. Eat two bites and then you can tell Uncle Don all your problems.”

  Katie shook her head but took a cookie and ate the two required bites. “It’s not my problem, but it may be yours.”

  “Moi?” He put a hand to his chest. “I have no problems. I am deeply in love with my life partner, my new business, though currently noisy, is poised to become a great success, my health is good, I still have most of my hair, and—”

  “And you have no alibi for Josh Kimper’s murder,” Katie cut in.

  Don, who’d been reaching for a cookie, stopped cold. “What do you mean?” he asked cautiously.

  “The party that you’ve been saying was your alibi isn’t going to stand up if the deputies start looking into it.” Katie gripped the cookie so hard that it broke in half and fell to the table. “Joanne Timmer and her husband, David, were there. I spoke to them last night, as well as a couple of their friends, and they said you disappeared for almost two hours.”

  Don sat back, his expression guarded. “I went for a walk.”

  Katie glared at him. “You did no such thing.”

  “I went for a walk,” he said again more firmly. “There were so many people there that I needed to get some air and ended up at Thompson’s Landing to watch the moonlight on the water and just think.” He smiled at her brightly.

  Katie gazed at him steadily, and his chirpy look eventually faded to a weary expression.