One Hot Murder

by Lorraine Bartlett

  “Oh, Andy, I’m so sorry.” Katie reached over to rest a hand on his arm. His skin felt hot to the touch.

  He didn’t look at her. His eyes seemed watery. He looked away. He probably didn’t want her to see him cry.

  It was time to lighten the conversation. Katie got up from her seat. “How about some hors d’oeuvres?”

  Andy cleared his throat. “You made hors d’oeuvres?”

  “Isn’t that what a good hostess does?” She opened the fridge and took out the glass plate that held an assortment of finger foods, removed the plastic wrap, and placed it on the table before him. “It’s really nothing fancy,” she said as he reached for one of the deviled eggs.

  “You piped in the filling?”

  She shrugged. “I may not rival the chef at the Ritz, but I can wield a pastry bag just as well as Martha Stewart. I bet I could decorate a cake as good as or better than that domestic diva, too.”

  Andy laughed and then took a bite and chewed. Katie studied his face, waiting for a reaction, but he seemed determined to make her wait.

  He swallowed and then nodded with what seemed like pleasure. “Curried?” he asked.

  She nodded. “My aunt Lizzie loved curried deviled eggs. We had them all the time.”

  “Not bad.” He reached for a baguette slice topped with cream cheese and roasted red tomatoes, popped that into his mouth, and chewed. Already he was smiling. He swallowed. “Didn’t you once tell me you didn’t like to cook?”

  “Deviled eggs and a visit to the grocery store’s olive bar is hardly cooking. And it’s not that I don’t like cooking so much, as that I never had the time. Now I seem to have way too much time on my hands in the evenings.”

  He frowned. “Is that another hint that I don’t spend enough time with you?”

  “No! When we first started dating, I knew you had a business to run. You knew I had one, too. I admit, I’d love to spend more time with you, but when you’re free, I’m not. And when I’m free, you’re not. That makes the time we can spend together all that more special. I hope you feel the same way.”

  He looked pensive. “Why did I fall for a girl on the wrong side of the clock?”

  “Woman,” Katie corrected, “and I could ask the same thing. But I’m not in a hurry to change things either. Are you?”

  “No.” He reached for her hand and drew her down to sit on his lap. It felt like sitting on a heating pad in that sticky kitchen, but Katie didn’t move. He kissed her. He tasted like salty sweat and curried eggs, and he smelled like pizza—comforting. “I love you, Katie.”

  “And I love you, too.”

  He smiled, but his eyes wandered to the clock. “I told the boys I’d be back to the shop within an hour.”

  “That’s okay, the scallops only take twenty minutes in the oven.”

  “Oven? No wonder it’s so hot in here,” he said.

  Katie shook her head. “The oven you bought for this place is very well insulated—it doesn’t leak much heat at all. Besides, it’s always this warm in this kitchen.”

  He frowned. If he expected her to do a pitch for a new circuit box, he was going to be disappointed. She was determined not to mention it. “I’d better pop those scallops into the oven right now. Then I’ll sauté the peapods and mushrooms.”

  “More garlic?” he asked.

  She smiled. “If you had time to stay, I might hold the garlic, but as you have to get back to work…” She let the sentence trail off.

  “You just don’t want me to kiss any of my customers.”

  “On the contrary, go ahead and kiss Vance or Godfrey—or even Seth Landers.”

  Andy frowned. “As you know, none of them are my type.”

  She laughed as she grabbed a sauté pan from the cupboard, set it on the stove, and turned the heat up. She’d already washed the peapods and mushrooms. All she had to do was cook them. She grabbed the butter dish from the fridge, hacked off a couple of tablespoons’ worth, and put them into the pan to melt.

  “We ought to do this more often,” Andy said. “I like to watch you cook.”

  “I would love to cook for you on a regular basis. That way we’d get to spend more time together. How about Monday night after Danny comes back from vacation? Then you won’t have to hurry back to work. And maybe you could stay longer than for just dinner.”

  Andy’s smile widened. “You’ve got a date.”

  Once Katie had kissed Andy good-bye, washed the dishes, and tidied her kitchen, she had nothing left to do and figured she might as well go back to Artisans Alley and catch up on the mountain of work that she’d been too restless to tackle earlier in the day.

  Entering the Alley after hours once felt creepy and a little frightening, but since Katie had moved into the apartment over Andy’s pizzeria, she’d found she got a lot more work done when there were no interruptions from vendors or a telephone that seemed to constantly ring. Besides, working kept her from thinking about certain things. Like missing out on buying the Webster mansion…again. And the fact that she really ought to sell off everything in her storage unit and pocket the money. Or rather, pay off Ezra’s final loan or fix the HVAC.

  She slipped the key into the door at the main entrance and let herself in. She preferred entering the building through the lobby after hours. The lamps from the parking lot shed good light on the entrance and she could see everything around her. Of course, the fact that Andy would watch her lock herself in also gave her a feeling of added security. He insisted that she call him so that he or one of his employees would walk her back to the outside stairs to her apartment—all ten or twelve feet of a journey. Still, it felt nice that someone worried for her safety.

  She walked past the closed storefronts, through the Alley’s lobby area, and unlocked the French doors that led inside. The security lights seemed dim and cast wan shadows as she made her way through the booths to the back and her office. She didn’t bother with the lights in the vendors’ lounge. It, too, had a security lamp, and she went into her office, which she hadn’t bothered to lock.

  She sat down at the computer and hit the on switch. As she waited for it to boot up, a crack issued from the floor above her. The old building creaked and cracked at all times of the day, especially during weather extremes. But when the sound came again, she cocked her head and listened more carefully, her mouth falling open as though to give her an increased ability to hear. She could swear she heard footsteps up on the second floor. She’d locked up the Alley more than four hours before. Vance had a key, but if he was going to be in the building after hours, he always informed Katie, and she hadn’t seen his truck out in the lot.

  She tiptoed out of her office and into the vendors’ lounge, but heard nothing. Next, she ventured onto the sales floor. Another crack made her pause, listening hard. When nothing happened for another minute, she moved toward the back of the building until she came to, and stood in, Vance’s booth, straining to listen. She definitely did hear footsteps on the floor above.

  With exaggerated care, she quickly walked back toward her office, wincing every time the old wooden floor creaked beneath her. If she could hear creaking and cracking, so could whoever was up on the second floor.

  Back her in office, she quickly shut the door and picked up the phone, dialing 911.

  “I want to report a trespasser,” she whispered when the dispatcher came on the line. “I’m alone in my workplace on Victoria Square in McKinlay Mill.”

  “Can you get out without being seen?”

  “I don’t know.” Damn. Why hadn’t she thought of just running out the front door and calling from the pizzeria?

  “Then it might be best to stay where you are. Can you barricade yourself in?”

  Katie glanced at her file cabinet. Maybe. Her crummy office chairs certainly weren’t going to do the trick. “It would probably cause too much noise, and I don’t want to draw attention to myself.”

  “Can you turn off your lights and hide under your desk?”

  �
��Yes.”

  “Do it. An officer can be there in a few minutes. I’ll stay on the line with you.”

  Katie turned off the lights. The lamps from the back parking lot cast weird shadows, and she was glad the darkness in her office was not absolute. Still, she fumbled her way along the desk and crawled under it.

  Something seemed to crash in the vendors’ lounge and her breath caught in her throat. “He’s coming closer,” she whispered into the phone.

  “Stay calm, don’t make a sound.”

  Katie could hear the footsteps coming closer and closer to her office, and then…they veered and whoever was there went into the bathroom. She listened and distinctly heard the toilet seat bang into the tank and then…

  “Good grief! Someone’s peeing in my john!” she cried.

  For a second, Katie was sure she heard laughter in her ear.

  The lid banged down and Katie heard the toilet flush. Next she heard the water come on as the person behind the wall washed his or her hands. Well, at least this person was neat. And he or she had known where to find the restroom. Could it be a vendor?

  The water switched off, but Katie could still hear the toilet refilling. The person exited the restroom and the footsteps started off again.

  Katie felt foolish sitting in the dark when the person in the next room had to be someone she knew. “I’m going to go see who it is.”

  “No, don’t!” the dispatcher cautioned. “Please wait until the deputy arrives.”

  “How will I know when that happens if I’m hiding in the dark in my office?”

  “They’ll break in the door.”

  “Oh no they won’t! I’m not paying for that kind of repair—and I know the Sheriff’s Office certainly won’t!”

  “Ms. Bonner, please!” the dispatcher pleaded, but Katie had had enough. She hung up the phone, opened the door a crack. There was no one in the vendors’ lounge. She listened for a minute and heard no sound. She fumbled to open the desk’s bottom right drawer, where she kept some tools, and grabbed a claw hammer. Her plan was to hightail it out the back door and run around to the front of the building to wait for the deputy to arrive. The hammer was her insurance.

  She opened the door a crack and again peeked into the vendors’ lounge, but there was no sign of the intruder. Feeling like a sneak, she tiptoed into the lounge, unlocked the back door, and scooted out into the parking lot, then ran as fast as she could around the side of the building.

  It was far too soon to expect the sheriff’s deputy, but as she looked around the lot, she recognized Detective Davenport’s car parked in front of Wood U. She made a run for it. By the time she got there, she was breathless and had a stitch in her side.

  Davenport was snooping around the side of the dark building. “Detective,” she called, panting. “Someone’s in the Alley. Someone’s sneaking around inside the Alley and it’s supposed to be empty at this time of night.”

  “Do you always jog with a hammer?” Davenport asked with a frown.

  “Only when I feel my life might be threatened.”

  “What did this person do that was threatening?”

  Katie bit her lip. “He—he peed in the Alley’s downstairs restroom.”

  Davenport’s eyes widened and then he burst into laughter. “You were threatened by a peeing man?”

  “Detective, will you please be serious? Someone either broke into the Alley or hid inside after closing.”

  “Did you call nine-one-one?”

  “Yes, there’s a sheriff’s deputy on the way—but who knows how long it’ll be before he gets here? And—”

  Davenport grabbed her by the arm, his fingers moist from the humidity. “Come on.” He dragged her over to his car and they got in, neither bothering with their seat belts for the short drive across the parking lot.

  “I left the back door open,” Katie said, and Davenport steered for the back parking lot. He pulled up to the back door with the screech of brakes, nearly tossing Katie through the windshield.

  About the same time, the sound of a siren could be heard.

  Davenport jumped from the car with more speed than Katie thought him capable of. She followed suit. “Flag down the deputy. I’m going in,” he said.

  Katie nodded and made a run for the side of the building once more, jumping up and down, waving her arms and shouting. The deputy got the message and pulled his car up to meet her.

  “What’s going on?” Deputy Schuler demanded, eyeing the hammer still clutched in her hand.

  “Someone is trespassing in Artisans Alley. Detective Davenport has gone in to investigate.”

  “He should have waited for backup,” Schuler said and scowled.

  “Tell him that,” Katie said as the deputy slipped out of his car, grabbing his billy club in the process.

  “You stay here,” he ordered, and ran for the back stairs.

  Katie felt foolish standing there with her hammer, especially when she noticed Andy running along the tarmac and heading for her.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded.

  “There’s someone in the Alley.”

  “At this time of night?”

  “Exactly. I heard footsteps up on the second floor and called nine-one-one,” she briefly explained.

  “Good girl,” Andy said, making Katie wince at his word choice. He craned his neck to see around her. “Is that Davenport’s crate?”

  She nodded. “I saw him poking around over at Wood U and we jumped in his car and drove right over. Then the deputy showed up.” She gave the back door a worried look. “I wish they’d hurry up and find that creep.” She shivered, even though the temperature had to still be in the high eighties. “The thought of somebody being there when I was all alone…” Again she shivered.

  Andy rested a floury arm around her shoulder. “You could’ve called me.”

  She smiled at him and kissed his cheek. “My hero.”

  The back door opened and a sweaty-faced Davenport exited the building. “He must’ve heard the siren. I heard running footfalls on the second floor, and tore up the stairs,” he said, still panting. That wasn’t a good idea for a man his age and especially in this heat. “Looks like he got away through an emergency exit at the back of the loft. Your alarm’s blaring—you’d better call your security company.”

  “I’ll do that right now,” Katie said, and went back inside the building, while Davenport opened his car door and switched on his radio transmitter to talk to dispatch.

  The heat inside the building was at least ten degrees higher than outside, and practically slammed Katie in the face. Back in her airless office, she looked up the number for the security company in her old and worn Rolodex, called them, and explained the situation, telling them that sheriff’s deputies were already on the scene.

  As she hung up the phone, she noticed a key she kept on a hook next to her bulletin board was missing. That explained a lot.

  Katie left her office and headed out the back door once again, looking for Detective Davenport, who was conversing with Deputy Schuler. They stopped talking as she approached.

  “I just noticed the key to Chad’s Pad is missing,” she told Davenport.

  “Chad…your husband? Hasn’t he been dead for over a year?”

  She nodded. “We were living apart at the time of his death,” she reminded him. “He was staying here in the Alley.”

  “Illegally,” Davenport put in.

  Katie nodded. “I didn’t like the idea either, but…that’s beside the point right now. I keep the key to the door of the room he stayed in on a hook in my office—it’s missing. But I checked the door to that room earlier today and it was definitely locked.”

  “Let’s go have a look at Chad’s Pad,” Davenport said.

  “Now that I know you’re okay and that the detective is here, I’d better get back to work,” Andy said. “Stop over before you go upstairs tonight,” he told Katie, who nodded.

  Katie led Davenport through the Alley and up the stair
s to the stifling hot loft. Tucked in the far corner was the room that Chad had occupied. The door was closed, but when Katie reached for the handle, it turned.

  “Damn,” Davenport muttered, “I shouldn’t have let you do that. You’ve just ruined any fingerprints that might’ve been on there.”

  “If someone’s been living inside, there’ll be plenty more—and in the bathroom downstairs,” Katie said and swung the door wide. The room was dark, and she used her elbow to flip the switch. Sudden light blazed in the sixty-watt bulb that hung from the ceiling. The room stank of stale sweat and Katie forced herself to breathe shallowly. Davenport pushed past her to enter the tiny room.

  The covers on the bed were a jumbled mess. The remnants of past meals—lunches and other food swiped from the vendors’ lounge’s refrigerator—filled the overflowing wastebasket. Gwen’s missing pop cans and Vance’s Tupperware bowl were tossed in a pile as well. A heap of dirty clothes filled one corner of the tiny room. Davenport pulled out a pen and poked at them. “Do you recognize any of these shirts?”

  Katie bit her lip. “I think so. That striped one. I think Dennis Wheeler has one like it.”

  The detective looked up sharply. “Do you think he’s the one who’s been hiding here in your loft?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is he has a shirt like that. I don’t know if it’s actually his shirt.”

  Davenport straightened and frowned. How could he stand to be in that close, hot space and not keel over? “Would you have told him about this hiding place?”

  “Of course not. But it was no secret that Chad stayed here for two months when we were apart. He went to a couple of the Merchants Association meetings. He might have told Dennis about it then. I don’t know—I wasn’t part of the group then. But Gilda Ringwald-Stratton would know. She’s a walking encyclopedia when it comes to the Victoria Square Merchants Association.”

  “I’ll have a talk with her, and then I’ll speak to Mrs. Wheeler again,” Davenport said, scowling.

  She made a mental note to call the woman herself the next morning. If Abby was going to be grilled by Detective Davenport, she might feel the need for a little moral support.