by Bill Noel
We ordered, and Amber moved to the other table.
Charles watched her go. “What does she want to tell you?”
I shook my head and took a sip.
He continued to stare at Amber. “Suppose we’ll have to wait until she gets back.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’ve been thinking.”
I nodded in response since that was his second comment that didn’t warrant a response.
“Aren’t you going to ask what I’ve been thinking?”
I smiled. “No, you’re going to tell me whether I ask or not.”
“You’re no fun. Anyway, I did a heap of pondering last night. I think Neil Wilson killed the bookie.”
“Go on.”
Charles tapped the table with his forefinger. “First, he owed money.” He tapped again. “Second, he could no more pay it than I could become Governor of South Carolina.” Another tap. “Third, he’s a brute. It would’ve been easy for him to clobber the life out of the bookie.” One more tap. “In addition to being big, he’s a cop, so he’s got hand-to-hand combat training. Bookie-man wouldn’t have had a chance.” He hesitated and looked at the ceiling. “And, whatever the next number is, Cindy said Neil didn’t have an alibi. That enough reasons?”
I didn’t think a security guard would be considered a cop. I also questioned whether Neil had combat training, hand-to-hand or otherwise. I didn’t think Charles’s reasons were anywhere close to proving Neil’s guilt. I couldn’t fault him for trying and didn’t want to challenge him since he’s been so fragile. My guess was that he’s thinking about the bookie’s death more to get his mind off losing Heather than to solve the murder.
“Good points. The police know all of that, so I doubt they’ve cleared Neil.”
Charles peeked at his wrist, then looked around the room. “When’s Amber coming back?”
“Patience, she’ll be here. You could be right about Neil. Let me throw something else in the mix.”
I shared what Chester told me about Janice, what he thought she said about killing Michael, and what she told him she’d said after he questioned her about it. Charles asked if Chester was sure he heard her say that she killed him. It was the same question I’d asked, so I gave Charles the same answer I’d received.
“When were you going to tell me? Why’d you let me go on about Neil when you already knew who the killer was? Why did—”
I held my coffee mug up in his face. “Could I have stopped you?”
Charles bit his lower lip and said, “No, but—”
Amber was standing by the table, set our breakfast down, and interrupted Charles. “I’ve only got a minute. I figured you’d want to know that Janice was in yesterday, got here right before closing. Remember her temper tantrum when Shantel got Janice’s order wrong?”
I nodded.
“She did it again. This time, she was mad when she walked in the door, and didn’t try to hide it. Shantel was stuck with her. I was behind the counter by the coffee urn. Since I knew what happened the last time, I kept an eye on them. Shantel bent over backwards to be nice. Janice ordered. Shantel went to put the order in and bring Janice water. I thought Janice was going to knock the water on the floor. She pounded the table and said, ‘Could you be any slower?’ Poor Shantel didn’t know what to do. She’d done everything right, had the water there as quick as any of us could have.” Amber rolled her eyes. “I would’ve been tempted to smack Janice. Shantel apologized, backpedaled from the table, then went to the kitchen to get away from the irate customer. Next thing I know, Janice slammed her chair against the chair behind her and was out the door. She didn’t pay for anything.” Amber shook her head. “Shantel was in tears.”
“That’s terrible.”
Amber looked around, didn’t see anyone seeking her attention, and said, “That doesn’t prove anything, other than Janice is a hothead and won’t be on Shantel’s Christmas card list. I figured you’d want to know since you’re trying to catch the bookie’s killer.”
I thanked her, and she headed back to work.
Charles said, “Okay, you’ve got me. Neil just slipped to number two on my list.”
“Like Amber said, all it proves is that Janice has an explosive temper.”
“True, but when you add that to what Chester told you, it paints a nasty picture about good ole Janice. You need to tell Cindy.” He took a bite of breakfast then pointed to my phone.
“I don’t want to talk to her from here. I’ll call later.”
“You bet you will. I’ll be there to make sure you don’t leave anything out.”
I changed the subject and told him about the comedy Legends meeting with Cal and the decision to hold open-mic comedy night on Sundays, that is, if the Legends’ staff approves.
“Staff, you mean their imaginary manager?”
“That’s the one.”
“Cal figures if he can get some amateurs to embarrass themselves on his stage, his customer won’t have to be exposed all night to the Legends.”
I said, “Do you blame him?”
“Cal didn’t get old by being stupid.”
We continued eating and agreeing on Cal’s wisdom.
Charles said he knew a couple of folks who might have the guts or were stupid enough to stand on stage and try to be funny. He would try to recruit them. I wanted to ask if he was okay, but decided he’d tell me he was whether he was or not. I kept the conversation light and was pleased to see him smile more than he had the last few times we’d been together.
He stuffed the last bite in his mouth then pointed at my phone.
I took the hint, asked Amber for the check, paid, and Charles followed me to the small park adjacent to the Dog. Instead of calling Cindy, I punched in Chester’s number. He must’ve had the phone in his hand because he answered before I heard it ring. “Hi, Chester.”
Charles flailed around like he was being attacked by a gaggle of gnats and mouthed, “That’s not the chief.”
I held my hand over the mic and said, “Chill.”
“No, I wasn’t talking to you, Chester. I wanted to see if you were certain about what you told me that Janice said about killing the bookie.”
“Chris, I was up half the night thinking about it. I’m not sure. I think that’s what she said. I’d hate to get her in trouble if I’m wrong.”
“That’s all I wanted to know.”
“I wish I could be more helpful.”
I told him I knew and wished him a pleasant day.
Charles put his hand over his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t suppose you’re going to call Cindy?”
“Not until I have something to tell her.”
Charles sat back on the bench. “George W. Bush said, ‘When I take action, I’m not going to fire a two-million-dollar missile at a ten-dollar empty tent and hit a camel in the butt. I’m going to be decisive.’”
I agreed, and the phone rang.
Charles said, “See, Chester changed his mind.”
I didn’t know about Chester, since Theo was on the other end of the call.
“Chris, could you come to the house?”
“When?”
“Now. The guys are still in bed. I have something to tell, no, to show you.”
“Can Charles come?”
“Will that take longer? I want to show you before the guys wake up.”
I told him that Charles was with me. We could be there in a couple of minutes.
Chapter Thirty
Charles and I were at Theo’s door and greeted by the homeowner whispering for us to keep our voices low so we wouldn’t wake his guests. We moved to the great room and sat close together on his oversized couch.
Theo whispered, “Notice anything different?”
It was the kind of question I hate. It was up there with someone asking if I’d heard the latest.
“Different?” I repeated back to Theo.
Charles looked at Theo. “You look older than I remembered.”
“Not me,” Theo s
aid. “Anything different in the room?” He stared at the table along the side of the room, the table holding his silver figurines.
A silver frog was next to the eagle, cat, and llama that he had shown me during a previous visit.
I walked over and lifted the frog. “Is this the one that was missing?”
“One and the same.”
Charles said, “So it didn’t croak after all.”
I carried the figurine to the couch and sat so I could keep my voice low. “How’d you get it back?”
“Don’t know,” Theo said. “I came in yesterday afternoon, saw something behind the table. It was on the floor in the corner.”
I turned it over in my hands. “Could it have been there all along?”
Theo shook his head. “It’s possible, although I would have thought the cleaning lady, or I, would’ve noticed.”
Charles moved to the table and put his hand in the gap between the table and the wall. “The space is wide enough for it to fall.”
Theo shrugged.
Charles said, “Frog’s hop. I’m certain that silver ones don’t hoppity hop on their own. If someone knocked it off, he, or she, would’ve heard it smack the floor.”
“I agree,” Theo said.
I pointed to the ceiling. “Do you think one of them took it and put it behind the table so it looked like it’d fallen?”
“That was my thought.”
Charles said, “Why would someone steal it then bring it back?”
I stared at the frog. “He could’ve felt guilty about taking it, figured this was a way to return it without raising suspicion. Or he tried to hock it and couldn’t find anyone who’d give him much for it. What about the missing money?”
“Still gone.”
I returned the frog to the table, and Charles said, “Any idea which one of your guests absconded with the frog and the moolah?”
Theo shook his head.
Charles replied, “Come on, Theo, you have an idea.”
“Could’ve been any of them.”
“How about Wallace?” Charles asked. “He could’ve been in one of his weirdo moods. He took it then came to his senses and brought it back.”
“Could be. If he did, his good sense wasn’t strong enough for him to bring the money back.”
“Sal?” I asked.
“I hate to think so.” He shrugged. “We’ve had so little contact during the last couple of decades that I can’t rule him out.”
“What’s all the racket down here? Did I hear my name mentioned?” Sal said as he came down the stairs.
Without skipping a beat, Theo said, “We were talking about your appearance tomorrow at Cal’s. They were saying how excited they were to see the Legends perform again.”
Charles turned to me and whispered, “We were?”
I smiled, said hi, and agreed with Theo about how happy we were.
“Fantastic,” Sal said. “I think our performances will blow you away. Heard if there’re amateurs who’ll try their hand at comedy before Cal turns the show over to the pros?”
Charles said, “I know a couple of folks who might tell some jokes.”
Sal headed to the coffee pot in the kitchen and poured a cup. I looked at Theo and wondered how he wanted to handle us being here. I didn’t have to wonder long.
He said, “Chris, sorry you and Charles have to run. It would’ve been nice if you could have spent more time with my houseguests.”
Charles returned Theo’s lie. “Me too. We must get going. Besides, we’ll get to spend time with them tomorrow at Cal’s.”
Theo mouthed, “Thank you.”
I took one more look at the silver frog before we let ourselves out.
“What are the chances that that ugly, expensive frog hopped itself off the table?” Charles asked as we stood in front of Pewter Hardware a block from Theo’s house.
“Zero. Theo didn’t tell his guests it was gone. It makes more sense that whoever took it couldn’t unload it then brought it back, hoping that Theo wouldn’t notice it’d been missing. Let’s see if Larry’s here.”
In addition to being Chief LaMond’s husband and owner of the city’s only hardware store, Larry had a checkered past and had spent eight years at taxpayer’s expense after getting caught burglarizing homes. He’d used those years to reevaluate his career choice, moved to Folly, and became one of its most upstanding citizens.
“What’re you going to do, ask if someone tried to pay for a Weed Eater with a silver frog?”
I rolled my eyes and told him to follow me as I opened the door to the compact store. The building was empty, except for Larry standing behind the counter, fiddling with a toaster-sized electric motor, and Brandon, Larry’s only full-time employee, who was at the far side of the store restocking a rack of electrical tape.
Brandon looked up as the bell over the door announced our arrival. He saw who it was and went back to restocking.
Larry smiled, set the motor down, wiped his hands on a grease-stained towel, and said, “Welcome. What can I do for you today?”
Charles made an overblown stage wave in my direction. “This ought to be interesting.”
Larry turned to me.
“Got a question.” I said. “How easy would it be to find someone to buy a less-than-legally acquired, expensive, silver figurine?”
Larry tilted his head and frowned. “I would know that how?”
I held up my hand and said in a voice low enough so Brandon couldn’t hear. “Because I value your wisdom and vast experience.”
Larry smiled. “That’s a subtle way to say I used to be a thief who had relied on fences to unload my, umm, regifted items.”
“Larry,” Charles said, “I like the way you said it better.”
Larry ignored him. “How valuable?”
“Seven hundred dollars.”
“Most pawn shops would avoid it. They’d want to be sure of the person pawning it. How did he get it? Why was he hocking it? Those kinds of things. Even then, the owner would give you little for it. Now if the person hocking the item found a, how shall I say it, less than upstanding dealer, he might buy it no questions asked, but not for much. Nowadays, those guys are harder and harder to find, or so I’ve been told. Most likely they wouldn’t have a shop, would do business through word of mouth.”
“How easy would it be for someone from out of town to find one of those dealers?”
Larry stepped out from behind the counter and glanced over at Brandon. “Near impossible. No one would trust a stranger for fear that he was an undercover cop. Why?”
I shared what had happened at Theo’s and why I’d suspected one of his guests.
Larry shook his head. “Chris, it’s possible that the thief could luck out and stumble across someone who would give him a decent price. Possible, although I wouldn’t bet on it.”
Chapter Thirty-One
I arrived at Cal’s an hour before the first-ever open-mic comedy night and second appearance by the world-famous, in their minds, Legends tour group. The island was blanketed by an April shower. While it was too early to know if it would bring May flowers, it was apparent that it didn’t bring a large crowd. Two tables were occupied, one man sat at the bar and was in deep conversation with Cal. Two servers huddled in a corner, probably bemoaning why they were both there with so few customers.
Theo had asked me to save room for his group, so I slid the same two tables together that we occupied during the Legends previous appearance, set my Tilley on them to mark my turf, and went to see Cal.
The bar owner finished his conversation with the lone bar customer and tilted his Stetson at me. “Did you see a bus full of thirsty customers parked out front?”
“It’s early. The rain’s supposed to stop. Folks will turn out.”
“Sure as holy hyenas, I hope so, or those gals will string me up.” He hesitated and tilted his head in the direction of the frowning servers. “I told them that tips would be flowing as free as the tide tonight.”
<
br /> It was shy of a busload, but four people stepped in the door, looked around, and moved to the table closest to the stage.
“See,” I said, “the crowd is arriving.”
Cal watched the group take seats and Joy approach them to take their order. “That’s part of the entertainment. The one who looks like a fat piñata is Vernon. He’s a comedian, well he’s a bean counter, but tonight he’s playing comedian.”
The man Cal referred to was in his thirties, with pasty white skin, and dressed in a colorful Hawaiian shirt and cut-off jeans. He looked more like a blimp caught in a paint store explosion than a piñata.
“How do you know?”
“He came in last night. Said he was here to, ‘analyze the assets and liabilities of the venue’ before tonight’s appearance.”
“That’s how you knew he was an accountant?”
“Hell’s bells, no. I said to him, “You want to dumb that down for this ole cowboy?’ Then he told me he was an accountant and apologized for his highfalutin’ talk.”
Charles arrived next and shook the rain off his Tilley. He noticed my hat on the table, threw his beside mine, then joined Cal and me. He was wearing a navy-blue long-sleeve T-shirt with the head of a lion and the word EMERSON in gold on the front. “Where’re the thousands of Legends’ fans?”
I suspected he knew the answer but, since Cal looked so down about the numbers, I told him that I was sure they were on their way.
“They may need a boat to get here,” Charles said.
Their ship must have come in because, during the next few minutes, three more groups of soaked customers arrived and griped about the rain as they commandeered tables.
Cassis and Kristin had added smiles to their faces and a bounce to their steps as the rushed to serve the newcomers.
Cal began to get more enthusiastic about the crowd when two more people arrived. He got Charles a Bud Light, a glass of wine for me, and pointed at Charles’s shirt. “Emerson?”
Charles smiled. “Wondered if anyone’d notice.”