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

by Toni L. P. Kelner

  The bearded man next to the woman reached for his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

  Ronald shook his head. “No, sir, that’s a present from me to your wife. I couldn’t sleep at night if I thought that arthritis was bothering her.”

  They thanked him profusely before leaving.

  Aunt Maggie said, “Ronald, how are you going to make any money if you keep giving away bracelets?”

  “God wanted me to, Miz Burnette, and I never argue with God.”

  “God doesn’t want you to starve to death, does He?”

  “It’ll never happen, Miz Burnette. I’m a blessed person, and I’m glad to share my blessings with those who can appreciate them.”

  “Is that why you never made anything for Carney? Him not appreciating it?”

  For the first time, Ronald quit smiling. “I tried to tell Carney that all he needed to do was use his gifts instead of trying to bring down other people, but he wouldn’t listen.” Then he looked at me again. “You’ve got to use your gifts, you know. Can’t let them go to waste when they’re needed, and your gifts are always going to be needed. Come back later, and I’ll make you a ring.” Then he turned to a couple with a baby in a stroller who were waiting for his attention.

  I blinked. Of course, it was just a coincidence that Ronald had said that just as I was wondering why it was I was looking into Carney’s death. Wasn’t it? I was still trying to decide as Aunt Maggie and I backed out of the crowd watching him work.

  Chapter 14

  As Aunt Maggie led the way, I asked, “Did Carney ever do anything to Ronald?”

  “Not even Carney was that dumb. Everybody out here loves Ronald.” She turned to glare at me. “You better not be saying that he’s a suspect.”

  I raised my hands in surrender. “If you say he’s not a suspect, that’s fine with me.”

  “Good.” We walked on, and she said, “It figures that we’d have to open late today. This is the best crowd we’ve had all month. It’s either been too hot or raining.”

  Of course, that pretty much described summer in North Carolina. That day was an exception. The sun was shining brightly, but there was enough of a breeze that it didn’t feel hot. More importantly, there wasn’t much humidity. Jokes aside, it really is humidity that makes the dog days in Byerly so awful.

  Aunt Maggie was probably right about the weather luring folks from their air-conditioned houses, because people were so thick you couldn’t stir them with a stick. Fortunately, Aunt Maggie has a way of driving through a crowd that leaves a wake behind her, and I was more than willing to take advantage of that wake. She seemed to know where she was going, too, unlike most of the browsers.

  We ended up in front of a dark green van hemmed in on three sides by tables. The fourth side was against Building Two. The area was sunny now, but I could tell that as the day went on and the air got hotter, the building would provide shade. Little things like that identify a professional dealer.

  Tammy Pruitt and J.B. Doughty were watching over stacks of T-shirts, belt buckles, beer can huggers, mugs, and all kinds of stuff, every piece marked with the Harley-Davidson logo. I’d never realized how many items went along with the motorcycles. A bumper sticker that caught my eye said it best: “A Harley isn’t just a motorcycle—it’s a way of life.”

  There seemed to be plenty of people who shared Tammy and J.B.’s devotion. They were doing good business, and we had to wait awhile before we were noticed. When Tammy did see us, she said, “Hey there, Miz Burnette. What do you think about us being neighbors? Mr. Cawthorne said we can move our stuff inside as soon as Thatcher gets Carney’s things packed up.”

  “He better do it quick,” Aunt Maggie said. “Evan Cawthorne’s probably charging him rent. I wonder if he’s going to try to charge Carney’s estate for last Sunday—after all, Carney was there in the booth. It’s not Evan’s fault that he was dead.”

  J.B. snickered.

  “Laurie Anne, say hello to Tammy and J.B. Tammy, J.B., this is Laurie Anne Fleming. Laurie Anne and her husband are looking into setting themselves up as dealers up in Massachusetts.”

  “Are you going to sell Harley stuff?” Tammy asked. “We just love it, don’t we, J.B.? We’re official dealers, too, none of those cheap knock-offs.”

  “We haven’t decided yet,” I said, “but I know Harley-Davidson merchandise is big business these days. One of the malls near me even has a Harley boutique.”

  “That’s what we want to have someday, isn’t it, J.B.? Right now, we just sell here on the weekends, but we’re getting there. Moving to an inside spot is the first step. We’ll be able to set up displays and everything, won’t we, J.B.?”

  J.B. hadn’t said anything, but he nodded amiably whenever it was called for.

  “They’re getting Carney’s spot,” Aunt Maggie reminded me with a significant look.

  Surely she wasn’t implying that a better location could be a motive for murder. I looked at J.B. again, and noticed the leather knife sheath at his belt. Just how good was he with a knife? Then I realized that my prejudices were sneaking up on me. It wasn’t like I didn’t know any other bikers—my friend Sandy was married in a biker wedding.

  Tammy looked a little crestfallen. “I feel bad about getting an inside spot under these circumstances, but we’ve been on the waiting list for months and months, haven’t we, J.B.?”

  “The man’s dead, Tammy,” J.B. said gently. “It can’t make any difference to him.”

  “I suppose not,” she said. Then she brightened up. “It’s going to be so nice being your neighbor, Miz Burnette, and I know I’m going to gain a ton being so close to Mr. Hanford’s donuts. Dulcy can eat a million of them. I know I shouldn’t give them to her, but she loves them.” To me she added, “Dulcy’s my little girl.”

  “What an unusual name,” I said.

  She wrinkled her forehead. “It’s a family name—my ex-mother-in-law insisted on it. It does kind of grow on you.”

  “Where is Dulcy?” Aunt Maggie asked.

  Tammy looked nervously at J.B. “My ex said he’d have her here an hour ago. He kept her last night and he wanted to keep her all weekend, but Dulcy wanted to come out here. She just loves meeting people. There are such interesting people out here, don’t you think, Laurie Anne?”

  “Absolutely,” I said with complete sincerity.

  “You and your husband have to come by later, when it’s not so busy,” Tammy said. “We’ll be able to tell you anything you want to know about the business. Does your husband like Harleys?”

  Since Richard thinks that people who drive motorcycles in Boston might as well shoot themselves and get it over with, I couldn’t come up with an answer right away. Fortunately, we were interrupted by a tiny blonde in pink throwing herself at Tammy.

  “Mama!” The child hugged Tammy in that all-or-nothing way that only little children can hug. Then she jumped back and posed proudly. “Look at me!”

  “Aren’t you pretty!” Tammy said.

  She did look adorable in a pink dress and crisp white pinafore with lacy socks and black Mary Janes, but I had to wonder who would be crazy enough to dress a child like that to go out there. That pinafore was sure to wilt in the afternoon heat, and nothing stains like North Carolina red clay.

  A moment later, the answer appeared. Only a woman who’d wear a salmon silk dress with matching high heels to a flea market could have dressed Dulcy that way. Her ash blond hair looked like she’d had it styled for the occasion.

  “Grandmother bought it for me,” Dulcy said, smoothing the dress.

  “Wasn’t that nice?” Tammy said, and for the first time since I’d met her, she didn’t sound genuine. “Hello, Mrs. Lamar. I thought Roy was bringing Dulcy by.”

  “Roy had an important social engagement,” Mrs. Lamar said. “I’m sure he told you how inconvenient it was going to be for him to drive all this way and still get to the country club on time.”

  All what way? Mrs. Lamar had to be talking about the R
ocky Shoals Country Club, because Byerly doesn’t have one, and the Rocky Shoals Country Club couldn’t have been more than five minutes away from the flea market.

  “Roy didn’t say anything to me,” Tammy said. “I wish he had. It would have been just as easy for us to swing by and get Dulcy ourselves.”

  “It’s too late for that now. Besides, I wanted to see where my granddaughter spends her weekends.” From the expression on her face as she surveyed the area, Mrs. Lamar was not impressed. She picked up a T-shirt, frowned, and put it down like she was afraid it had left dirt on her manicured fingers. “I had no idea people would pay for this type of thing.”

  Tammy’s face froze, but she didn’t say anything.

  Fortunately, Dulcy hadn’t noticed how uncomfortable the situation was becoming. She said, “Hi, Maggie!”

  “Dulcy,” Tammy said, “you know better than to call grown-ups by their first names. Call her Miz Burnette.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Tammy,” Aunt Maggie said. “You know I don’t put on airs.” Her emphasis, and meaning, were plain. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said to Mrs. Lamar. “I’m Maggie Burnette. This is my great-niece, Laurie Anne Fleming.”

  “Where are my manners?” Tammy said. “Miz Burnette, this is Annabelle Lamar, my ex-husband’s mother.”

  Mrs. Lamar sniffed like she knew exactly where Tammy’s manners were. “Mrs. Roy Lamar, Senior.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Annabelle,” Aunt Maggie said.

  “Burnette?” Mrs. Lamar said. “That’s a mill family, isn’t it?”

  Aunt Maggie bristled, and when she bristles, she does it thoroughly. “That’s right. Four generations of us Burnettes have worked at Walters Mill, and we’re mighty proud of it.”

  Apparently even Mrs. Lamar knew when to back down. She turned to me. “I suppose you work at the mill, too.”

  “Actually I’m a programmer. Mostly object-oriented programming for the Mac, but I dabble in Windows, UNIX and whatever operating system that’s hot.” I knew it was rude to spout techno-babble, but Aunt Maggie wasn’t the only one Mrs. Lamar made bristle.

  “I see,” Mrs. Lamar said. “Tammy, you know I try not to interfere, but I feel I must object to your bringing Dulcy into this environment. Surely it’s not healthy for a child to be around …” I suspected that she wanted to comment on the people, but didn’t quite dare. “The heat can’t be good for her,” she finally said.

  Aunt Maggie said, “Dulcy, do you get too hot out here?”

  “It’s not too hot,” Dulcy said firmly. “I get to play in the dirt!”

  “There you go,” Aunt Maggie said. “All children like to play in the dirt.”

  I don’t think Mrs. Lamar thought playing in the dirt was an appropriate activity, but she had enough sense not to contradict Dulcy. “That’s fine, dear, but Tammy, surely it’s not safe for a child. Just last week, that poor man was—”

  “We know what happened,” J.B. said, glaring at Mrs. Lamar in a clear warning against speaking about Carney’s death around Dulcy. “We can take care of Dulcy.”

  Mrs. Lamar didn’t even look at him. “I’d be more than happy to keep Dulcy on the weekends if you insist on peddling your biker objects. Wouldn’t you like to come with me, Dulcy? We could have a lovely lunch together and then shop for more dresses.”

  Dulcy looked down at her dress. “I like this dress.”

  “Yes, dear, but you can have other dresses, too.”

  “I like this dress,” she repeated. “I don’t want another dress.”

  “Then we could get a lovely new doll, or maybe go meet your father at the country club.”

  “Daddy’s playing golf,” Dulcy said with a frown. “I don’t like it there. He won’t let me play in the sandbox. He says it’s a trap.”

  “It looks like she wants to stay here,” J.B. said. “Dulcy, aren’t you going to give me a hug?”

  “J.B.!” she said with delight, and launched herself again. Mrs. Lamar’s face looked like she was sucking lemons. Really sour ones.

  She made one last attempt. “But, Dulcy, if you stay out here, you’ll get your dress all dirty.”

  Dulcy looked concerned, and rubbed the little smudges that she’d already gotten on the pinafore.

  “That’s all right,” Tammy said. “I always bring a spare outfit for her. Dulcy, your blue shorts and your Harley T-shirt are in the van. I brought your sandals, too.”

  “Yay!” Dulcy cried. “I can stay!”

  Mrs. Lamar could tell she’d lost, but couldn’t resist saying, “If you get tired and want to leave, you tell your mother to call me. I’ll come right out and get you.” She opened her purse. “Let me give you a quarter for the phone.”

  “I think I can scrape up a quarter,” J.B. said.

  Mrs. Lamar snapped her purse shut. “I’m so glad. Dulcy, come hug Grandmother goodbye.” Dulcy enthusiastically obeyed. “I think I’ll go have lunch with my friend Mr. Humphrey. We were just speaking about you the other day, Dulcy.” Even though she was talking to Dulcy, she was looking at Tammy when she said it. “He’s awfully interested in how you and your mother are getting along.”

  Tammy flushed, and J.B. looked thunderous. As soon as she was gone, Tammy said, “I can’t stand that woman—”

  “Come on, Dulcy,” J.B. said. “Let’s get you changed out of your dress so you can play in the dirt.” J.B. lifted the little girl into the van and partially closed the door behind her. Then he gave Tammy a quick kiss, and in a quiet voice said, “Don’t worry,” before going to wait on a customer.

  Tammy said, “I should have known that Roy was going to dump Dulcy on his mother again. He always does! I don’t think he cares a thing about spending time with her. And then Mrs. Lamar goes and buys Dulcy dresses and toys she doesn’t need, just to show her how wonderful she is.”

  “Tammy, Dulcy may not realize what she’s doing now, but when she’s older, she’ll know,” Aunt Maggie said. “A child can tell the difference between somebody who loves her and somebody who doesn’t.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Lamar loves Dulcy, I’ll give her that. It’s just that she thinks she knows how to raise her better than I do. Dulcy is her first granddaughter, and she wants to turn her into a debutante so bad she can taste it.”

  “Since when do they have debutantes around here?” I asked.

  “They will if Mrs. Lamar has anything to say about it. But Dulcy’s my daughter, and I won’t have her growing up to be a snob!”

  Aunt Maggie said, “Just keep standing up for yourself, and there’s nothing Annabelle can do.”

  “I wish you were right, Miz Burnette,” Tammy said sadly, “but you heard what she said about going to see Mr. Humphrey. He’s Roy’s lawyer, and he’s the reason Roy didn’t have to give me any money when we split up. I even lost the savings I had before we got married. Mrs. Lamar wants Roy to try to get custody of Dulcy, I just know it. Roy doesn’t want Dulcy getting in the way when he has women over and throws those parties, so if he gets custody, Mrs. Lamar will get to run Dulcy’s life.”

  “She can’t do that, can she?” I said, horrified.

  “She can if she can make it look like I’m not a fit mother. She says J.B. and I are living in sin, but the only reason we haven’t gotten married is because we know she’d try to use that against me.” She lowered her voice. “J.B. was in trouble with the law when he was a teenager; but everybody knows he straightened up after that, and he loves Dulcy just like she was his own. Why can’t she see that?”

  Aunt Maggie said, “I don’t know why she’s acting so high and mighty. Those boys of hers have been married and divorced so many times that I saw a bumper sticker that said, ‘Honk if you were married to a Lamar.’ ”

  Tammy and I both snickered.

  “Anyway, if it does go to court,” Aunt Maggie said, “any judge worth his salt will be able to tell that you’re a good mama.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say, Miz Burnette. I just hope it doesn’t come to that. If only M
rs. Lamar hadn’t found out about J.B.’s record. I don’t know who told her.”

  “I’m sure it will work out all right,” Aunt Maggie assured. “Right now, we better let you get back to work.”

  When we were far enough away, I said, “Carney again?”

  “Probably. I didn’t know J.B. has a record, but now that I know, it explains something. I heard Carney calling J.B. J.D. once, and when J.B. corrected him, Carney grinned like J.B. had said something funny.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “J.D., as in juvenile delinquent. I don’t know what Carney had against those two, but he must have known about J.B.’s record, and he’s the only person I know of mean enough to tell Annabelle.”

  As sweet as Tammy seemed, she had one of the best motives for killing Carney I’d found so far. Though she said she didn’t know who had told her ex-mother-in-law about J.B.’s record, how could we be sure she was telling the truth? Wouldn’t a mother kill to protect her child?

  There was also J.B. to think about, and not just because he looked rough. Maybe Tammy hadn’t known that Carney had been the one to cause trouble, but that didn’t mean that J.B. hadn’t found out. Tammy said J.B. loved Dulcy like she was his own. Wouldn’t a father be just as likely as a mother to kill for his child?

  Chapter 15

  “Where to next?” I asked Aunt Maggie. “Did Carney pull any nasty tricks on the folks in Buildings Two or Three?”

  “I don’t know that he did. The folks in Building Three are all fairly new because Evan just added that building in April, and we don’t mix much with the folks in Taiwan Alley.”

  “Taiwan Alley?”

  “That’s what we call Building Two. The folks over there all carry new merchandise that they pick up surplus or at the dealers’ auctions: cheap car radios, and toys that break the first time a child plays with them, and knock-off sweatshirts.”

  “Stuff that’s made in Taiwan?” I guessed.

  “You got it. Not a piece in there is worth carrying home, if you ask me.”