Toni L.P. Kelner - Laura Fleming 05 - Tight as a Tick

by Toni L. P. Kelner

  “This is most of them. Obed isn’t here yet.”

  “Why don’t you tell me who’s who.”

  She nodded at a young blonde in blue jeans and a black Harley-Davidson T-shirt. “That’s Tammy Pruitt. The man next to her is J.B. Doughty, her live-in.” J.B. looked like he was a few years older than Tammy, or maybe he’d just lived a harder life. He had dark hair and a bushy mustache, and was wearing a black leather vest with a Harley emblem on the back. “They sell Harley-Davidson stuff. Shirts, jackets, belt buckles, even stuffed pigs they call Harley hogs.”

  That explained their clothes. J.B. looked like he’d be right at home in a biker gang.

  Aunt Maggie said, “I don’t know why they’re here. They set up outside.”

  “Who’s that?” I said, looking at the woman I’d seen picking pieces of cloth up off the floor.

  “China Upton. She sells country crafts—pillows and stuffed geese and such.”

  I wondered if China made the things she sold. Her red-and-white gingham blouse and the denim wrap-around skirt with matching ruffles looked handmade.

  “The fellow at the table with China is Bob Tyndall. You remember Bob, don’t you, Laurie Anne? He notarized those papers for us after your granddaddy died.”

  “I thought he looked familiar.” How could I have forgotten? It’s not often that you meet a tattoo artist who’s a notary public on the side.

  “That scrawny little fellow by himself is Thatcher Broods. He was one of Carney’s point men.”

  “His what?”

  “That’s what Carney called them. Carney had a whole bunch of fellows who’d bring him stuff. He’d buy from them, then sell it out here. Thatcher found a lot of the pieces Carney used to repair knives.”

  I could tell from her voice that she disapproved. “Is something wrong with that?”

  “Not necessarily. Lots of dealers sell items that have been repaired. It’s fine as long as they tell the customers that it’s reconditioned.”

  “But Carney didn’t tell people.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but it seems to me that he sold more ‘mint condition’ knives than he bought.”

  Thatcher didn’t look like he was more than seventeen or eighteen, despite his old-fashioned name. He had that angular look some boys get at that age, all elbows with a prominent Adam’s apple. His long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, which made his face look even more bony. “If he’s not a dealer, then he’s not a suspect, right?”

  “Not necessarily. Even though Thatcher’s not a dealer, he’s always out here. He comes early to cherry-pick the outside dealers and sell what he can to Carney.”

  “Cherry-pick?”

  She shook her head at my ignorance. “A lot of the outside dealers aren’t professionals. They’re just folks trying to clean out their houses, and they come out here instead of having a yard sale so they won’t have people tromping all over their yards. Most of them don’t have any idea of which pieces are valuable and which are junk. A Hull pheasant planter will be marked three dollars, but they’ll want fifty for a set of dishes you can get brand-new at Wal-Mart for forty-five. So a lot of dealers like to get here ahead of the customers to see if there’s anything worth buying outside. I do it myself when I get here early enough.” The look she gave me reminded me that it was Richard and me that had slowed her down.

  “Was Thatcher here the day Carney was killed?”

  “I think so. It seems like I remember him coming by with some pieces to sell. In fact, I know he did because he said Carney owed him some money, and he was right put out that he wasn’t around. I think Thatcher is trying to build up enough stock to become a dealer himself. He’s crazy about knives.”

  I wondered if a knife aficionado would be more likely to kill somebody with a knife, or too respectful of the collector value to want to mess one up. Would he use a really good knife, or a just a cheap one?

  Aunt Maggie nodded at two women. “You know those two, don’t you?”

  “All too well.” Mavis Dermott and Mary Maude Foy were hard to miss. I think their hair started out black, but it hasn’t been naturally black for a long time, and nature had never given anybody hair that black. It looked like Aunt Maggie’s did now, but Aunt Maggie’s hair had been an accident, and they did theirs that way on purpose.

  The hair was bad enough, but they made it worse by layering on foundation and powder that was three shades lighter than their real skin color. I could tell because they never blended the makeup along the edges, meaning that there was a line circling their faces. Of course, with all that, they had to wear bright red lipstick.

  I knew from long experience that their personalities were just as attractive. “You must love having them around,” I said.

  Aunt Maggie just grunted.

  Richard finally got back with our coffee.

  I asked, “What took you so long?”

  “I thought I’d take the opportunity to see what I could find out from Bender. From the horse’s mouth, as it were.”

  “Horse’s mouth?” Aunt Maggie said. “Talking to Bender is more like getting it from the horse’s—”

  She didn’t get a chance to finish because Belva and Mark asked everybody to quiet down. I wondered how they were going to handle the next part, since it was obvious that neither of them wanted to give the other one a chance to speak first. They must have decided to let Evan Cawthorne speak for them as a compromise.

  Evan cleared his throat loudly. “Let me start by expressing my sincere apologies for any losses y’all may have suffered. Thankfully, the damage was minor.”

  “Minor?” Bob Tyndall called out. “I lost half a dozen bottles of my best inks—do you know how much it’s going to cost to replace them?”

  Evan held his hands out in what I supposed was a calming gesture. “I’m not trying to minimize your losses—”

  “It’s all my fault,” Bender said as he came out from behind the snack bar. “I’d been extra careful all week because of what happened to Carney, but I had to take Rusty to the vet yesterday. We were only gone for a little while, but they must have broken in then. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

  He looked so pitiful that I guess Bob couldn’t stand it. “Hell, Bender, I’m not blaming you or Rusty. I just want to know who’s going to pay for my ink.” He turned back to Evan. “Have you got insurance to take care of this?”

  Evan put on a regretful expression, but I didn’t quite believe it. “I also apologize for my brother’s failure to be on duty, and of course I carry insurance on the property, but I’m afraid your losses aren’t covered.”

  “The hell you say!” Bob shouted.

  “If you’ll recall, the contract you signed when you became an inside dealer states that while Cawthorne, Inc., provides reasonable security measures, I am not liable for any loss due to theft or vandalism.”

  Bob started to say something else, but Aunt Maggie said, “Give it up, Bob. You signed that paper the same as the rest of us.” She glared at Evan. “It ain’t right, but it’s legal.”

  Evan cleared his throat again. “Let me say that in recognition of these unfortunate events, I will not be collecting rent for today.”

  There were some noises of appreciation at that, but Aunt Maggie couldn’t resist pointing out, “That’s mighty good of you, considering the fact that we’re not going to be able to do any business today.”

  “That’s not necessarily true,” Evan countered. “I looked around, and I don’t think it’s going to take long to clean up. I intend to open Building One for business at eleven o’clock.”

  There was a fair amount of reaction to that, ranging from Aunt Maggie saying, “That’s easy for you to say,” to China Upton saying, “I’m sure we can get the worst of it straightened up if we work together.”

  After everybody had had a chance to grumble, Evan continued. “While I have you here, I have a couple of announcements. Thatcher Broods has made arrangements with the late Carney Alexander’s
sister to take over his business. I think we can all agree that Carney would be glad to see his work carried out.”

  That sounded a bit highfalutin for the business in question, but I reminded myself that flea market dealers took their work just as seriously as anybody else. Aunt Maggie sure didn’t put up with people making fun of her business.

  Evan went on. “Of course, Thatcher understands that he won’t inherit Carney’s location because other dealers have been waiting for some time. J.B. Doughty and Tammy Pruitt will be moving into Carney’s old spot.”

  “What are you trying to pull, Cawthorne?” Mary Maude thundered. “Me and my sister have been setting up here longer than them two.”

  “Check the dates,” J.B. thundered back. “We put our name on the waiting list a good two weeks before y’all.”

  Evan tried his best calming gesture, but it didn’t do any good. Both J.B. and Mary Maude stood up so they could try to stare the other down.

  Then Belva said, “People, I’ve got something to say that’s more important than your bickering. Do I have to remind y’all that there’s a criminal investigation going on here?”

  “It doesn’t look like much of an of investigation to me,” Mary Maude muttered.

  Belva ignored her. “I’ve got a theory about this break-in, but I want to check out the evidence before I say more.”

  “What about you, Mark?” Aunt Maggie said. “Do you have a theory?”

  “Miz Burnette, I’ve always believed that it’s a waste of time to theorize until after I look at the evidence.” He smirked at Belva, whose face got a little red.

  Glaring at one another, the two of them headed back to the area that had been most damaged, with Trey trailing along behind.

  That left Evan Cawthorne standing alone, but not for long. Mary Maude and Mavis converged on him, and I’d have felt sorry for him if he’d had the decency to insure the place properly.

  “Remind me what Bender’s excuse was,” Aunt Maggie said. “Where was he when he was supposed to be guarding this place?”

  Richard had started eating a sausage biscuit, but paused to say, “He went for a follow-up visit to Dr. Josie. I assume that this was because of Rusty’s recent operation, but Bender was so uncomfortable talking about it that it was hard to tell. Apparently he was worried that Rusty wasn’t ‘acting like himself,’ but Dr. Josie assured him that everything is fine. Bender said they were only gone two or three hours, but that was enough time for whoever it was to get in and do the damage. Neither he nor Rusty noticed anything until Bob Tyndall arrived this morning, saw the mess, and went to Bender’s trailer to get him up.”

  “Two or three hours?” I said. “What on earth took so long? Dr. Josie’s place is only ten minutes from here.”

  “If you take Jackson Road back from there, you go right past Dooley’s Bar,” Aunt Maggie commented. “I bet Bender took a side trip and doesn’t want to admit it.”

  “I thought I detected a hint of eau de stale beer,” Richard said.

  “If he was drunk, somebody could have broken in while he was here and he wouldn’t have heard a thing,” I said.

  But Aunt Maggie shook her head. “Nope, it had to have happened while they were gone or Rusty would have noticed. Bender is supposed keep an eye on the place during the week to make sure nobody messes with our merchandise, but Rusty really guards the place. That dog is the only reason Bender can hold on to this job.”

  “Surely Evan wouldn’t fire his own brother,” I said.

  “Yes, he would.”

  Obviously the Cawthornes weren’t like the Burnettes. I asked, “How many dealers are there out here?”

  “Maybe a couple dozen in Building One. I’m not sure about Buildings Two and Three.”

  “Did they break into either of those buildings?”

  “Just this one, according to Bender,” Richard said between bites. “They jimmied the front door, just like last week. Bender admitted that it wouldn’t have been hard because he had only jury-rigged it until Evan got a new lock installed.”

  I looked around at the booths closest to the snack bar. Clearly somebody had thrown a few pieces around and kicked over some boxes, but there was nowhere near as much damage as there was around Aunt Maggie’s booth. “If they came in up here, why is the worst mess in the back of the building?”

  “I see where you’re going, Laurie Anne,” Aunt Maggie said. “Last week Carney gets murdered—this week the place is broken into and his booth is the hardest hit.”

  “There’s no way this could be a coincidence.” I didn’t think the police would miss the connection, either, which meant that Richard and I might be off the hook. Surely this new evidence would help them solve Carney’s murder themselves, and we’d be able to relax for the rest of the week. Maybe we could join the triplets in Myrtle Beach. It wasn’t Cape Cod, but it could be a lot of fun.

  I was trying to decide if we could borrow a car or if we’d need to rent one when the delegation of deputies returned.

  Mark opened his mouth, but Belva spoke first. “Okay, folks, I think I’ve seen all I need to. It looks like it was a bunch of kids looking for a place to get drunk and party.”

  “That’s your big theory?” Aunt Maggie said. “A bunch of kids? How did a bunch of kids know that Bender wasn’t here?”

  “They were lucky,” Belva said with a shrug.

  “They were neat, too. Has anybody seen any beer cans on the ground?” Aunt Maggie looked around, but nobody spoke up.

  Belva got a little red in the face again, but said, “That’s an excellent observation. The kids must have been on drugs.”

  “What about Carney’s murder?” Aunt Maggie persisted. “Are you saying that you don’t think the break-in was connected with the killing?”

  Belva looked pleased with herself. “As a matter of fact, I think the kids broke in last week, too. Carney got here before they could do any damage, and they panicked, stabbed him, and ran. That would explain the violence of the attack. Drug-related crimes are often the nastiest.”

  The last part sounded like it had come from a policeman’s magazine. I didn’t imagine that Rocky Shoals had that big a problem with drug-crazed killers on the rampage.

  Aunt Maggie sighed loudly. “Mark, tell me you’ve got a better theory than that.”

  “Like I said before, Miz Burnette, I don’t think theories mean a whole lot. What I need is facts, and it’s a known fact that most break-ins are robberies. I want you people to check your inventory and let me know what’s missing. I’ll keep an eye out at the pawnshops, and once something shows up, proper procedures will lead the way.”

  “We don’t know that anything is missing,” Aunt Maggie said. “And how is a robbery connected to Carney’s death?”

  “I don’t have any evidence that they are connected,” Mark said.

  “Of course they’re connected!” Belva snapped. “It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”

  “I don’t see any evidence of that,” he repeated.

  They glared at each other until Evan said, “I’m confident the police will be able to handle this matter. If it’s all right with the deputies, I’d suggest that we all get our booths ready to open.”

  I was surprised that Aunt Maggie didn’t say anything else. Maybe she figured it wasn’t worth the trouble. She led the way back to her booth and stared at the mess for a full five minutes before she finally said, “It’s a good thing y’all are here, because as far as I can tell, Mark and Belva couldn’t figure out how to work a paper bag.”

  It struck me then that Myrtle Beach had more in common with Cape Cod than I’d previously thought. That was the fact that I wasn’t likely to see either place any time soon.

  Chapter 8

  Aunt Maggie put Richard and me to work sorting the paperback books strewn across the floor. At first I thought she meant to divide them up like you see books in stores: Mysteries, Science Fiction, Romance, and so on. But Aunt Maggie had her own system, with categories like Oprah books,
Dean Koontz, Danielle Steel, Stephen King, Nice Romances, and Adult Romances.

  All around us, other dealers were busy putting their booths back together: Tattoo Bob Tyndall sweeping up broken ink bottles, Thatcher Broods putting knives into their proper boxes, China Upton fluffing up pillows. I wondered if they were all satisfied that Belva and Mark knew what they were doing. I sure wasn’t.

  Richard must have been thinking the same thing because he said, “I wish Junior was in town.”

  “Me, too. Belva’s jumped to the wrong conclusion, and Mark can’t come to any conclusion. It was obviously an inside job.”

  “Why are you so sure?”

  “First off, what Aunt Maggie said about Rusty being such a good watch dog. If he’d been here last night, he’d have heard the break-in, and if he’d been here last week, he’d have heard Carney being attacked. Only one of the dealers would have known that he wasn’t going to be here.”

  “Not necessarily. Couldn’t Bender have told a friend? Or maybe he was overheard at the bar.”

  “We can ask Aunt Maggie about Bender’s friends later,” I said, “but I don’t think somebody who overheard a conversation would realize how important Rusty is. If I heard that a building was guarded by a man and a dog, I wouldn’t assume that the dog was the brains of the outfit.”

  “Okay, maybe it was just a coincidence that the killer picked days when Rusty was gone.”

  “That’s a pretty big coincidence.”

  “They do happen.”

  “True, but I still can’t swallow the coincidence of a thief being at Carney’s booth just as Carney showed up. And we’d have to either accept the coincidence of a sneak thief stuffing Carney’s body under his own booth, or explain how the thief knew which one was Carney’s.”

  “Excellent points,” he said.

  “We’d also have to explain why Carney’s booth was the most heavily damaged in the break-in. I think somebody came to Carney’s booth first, maybe to look for something. He messed up the booth while searching, then messed up other booths to cover his tracks.”