Ink, Red, Dead

by Joanna Campbell Slan

Okay, I’m not usually the kind of person who’s impressed by fame, but I have to admit that, this time, I was.

  “Hello, Carolina,” I said to her. “Are you interested in pet care products?” I’d no idea if she had a pet of her own. She concentrated on all kinds of crafts on her TV show, but I’d never seen her with any animals as guest stars. But if she was the creative and kind person she seemed to be, she surely had a dog or cat waiting at home at her gorgeously decorated hearth.

  “Of course not,” she snapped. “I’m just here waiting for--Oh, there she is. Where have you been, Rosie?” This last was barked to a lady in glasses, small and frumpy and frazzled-looking.

  But Rosie, whoever she was, knelt down before responding and gave my eager, friendly Lexie a pat.

  I immediately liked Rosie a whole lot more than the apparently nasty craft maven, Carolina.

  “Sorry, Carolina,” Rosie said as she rose. “Some people wanted to speak with you—oh, yes, here they come.”

  Before I saw who was coming this way, I edged around with Lexie to say hi to the pair of people staffing the booth--both middle-aged women. I introduced myself. “Hi, I’m Kendra Ballantyne, a pet-sitter from Los Angeles. So great that you have a booth here.”

  I didn’t mention my connection to their boss Dante.

  The Los Angeles part got their attention. It also perked up the ears of Gerry Porter who happened to be standing nearby looking at the miniatures of dogs that Dante had ordered just for this show. "Kendra," she said. "Is that really you? Of course it is! I'd recognize that Cavalier King Charles Spaniel anywhere! How are you and how is Lexie?"

  We had a good laugh about meeting at the pet booth instead of at her booth as we had planned. I'd been looking forward to getting to know Gerry better, especially since we both lived in California. With her was her adorable granddaughter, Maddie. Gerry also introduced Lexie and me to Jane Kuhn, apparently the person who’d organized this entire festival.

  “Are you a crafts person?” Jane asked me, appearing stressed but nevertheless polite. I noticed that her eyes never left Carolina as the craft diva rummaged through a variety of pet products on the display racks.

  “No, a pup person,” I responded. “But crafts are good. I admire crafters.”

  “Great.” She turned away from me and toward Carolina. “Carolina, may I talk to you? There are some expense items we really need to talk about. I think reimbursement is—”

  “Later,” Carolina all but shouted over her shoulder. “Can’t you see this isn’t the right time for such trivial matters? When does the book signing start? Why haven’t you shown me where it is? Rosie, do you know?” She turned to the lady in glasses.

  “Yes. It’s—”

  “It’s over there,” said a soft-spoken young woman who’d followed the crowd here. She pointed to the far side of the room, waving a copy of A Diva’s Guide to Crafting. “But first... Er... Carolina, I need to talk to you about a misunderstanding. I’m sure you remember me. The name’s Doris, Doris Handly.”

  “Misunderstanding? I don’t think so, Doris, but we can certainly talk.” Carolina glared snootily at this Doris person, but at least she wasn’t shouting. “Although not now, of course.”

  Doris apparently wasn’t taking later for an answer. She leaned closer but made no effort to lower her voice. “The thing is, I didn’t mention it on the chatroom I set up for you, but I was really excited that you agreed to look at the needlepoint design I put together and give me your opinion on it. I knew you were busy so I didn’t mind that you hadn’t let me know what you thought for so long, but...well, I waited till this festival to pick up a copy of A Diva’s Guide since I wanted to buy it here and have you autograph it. I looked through it first thing and was absolutely amazed to see that my design was featured in it. I don’t understand why you—”

  “Your design? Your design? How dare you claim...? Look, never mind. As long as you don’t mention it ever again, I won’t take any action against you for your terrible, slanderous remark.”

  As Carolina stomped away, she was followed by Jane, Rosie and Doris, almost as if they were her entourage. Maybe they were her entourage.

  A not especially happy entourage.

  I was left gawking after her, and I don’t like to gawk. A few other folks came over to where I was standing. They also followed Carolina with their eyes.

  “She’s certainly not the person I thought she was,” said one, who wore a pretty aqua sweater adorned by a multi-colored scarf. “Hi, I’m Kiki Lowenstein.”

  I smiled at her. I'd heard Kiki owned a rescue Great Dane. She instantly made a good impression on me by being as interested in Lexie as she was in me.

  While Kiki petted my pup, Gerry introduced me to Betsy Devonshire and her assistant, Godwin. “So you're the one who sent me that picture of the beautiful needlepoint pillow with the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel on it!”

  “Yes, and I have someone who can make it up for you, if you wish,” said Betsy.

  “We can even change the coloring to match this little darling,” said Godwin, pointing to Lexie who was now sitting in Kiki's lap. The scrapbooker had made herself comfortable on the floor so she could better enjoy the attention of my dog.

  “Hey, there!” Molly Pink headed our way. Walking with her were Rocky Winchester and April Buchert, her friends who owned a rubber stamping concern. I was happy to meet Rocky and April because Molly had told me they could provide me with a customized stamp of Lexie's likeness. Okay, I'm not crafty, but it still sounded sort of interesting! After everyone had said hello, I took my friend Molly aside. “What’s with the people around here? That organizer was really upset. It seems as tense as a conference full of lawyers.”

  “I don’t really know,” she said. “Crafts fairs are usually all about the wonderful handmade things people create, but there’s an atmosphere here...”

  “There sure is,” I said. I decided that Lexie and I would leave as soon as we’d spent a little more time looking over the pet supplies booth and making sure the stuff there was of superior quality and price, like all HotPets stuff.

  Although maybe I’d buy one of Carolina’s books and hang around just long enough to get her autograph. She was a personality after all, even if her personal personality seemed pretty nasty.

  In any event, I had a feeling that Carolina Pettijohn wasn’t through yelling at people. Not tonight at least.

  # # #

  Kendra Ballantyne finished her report and stared at Jane Kuhn. The small green room had grown uncomfortable with all the accusations in the air. “I know how frustrating working through expense reports can be. There's a real opportunity to misreport them. It's a type of theft, but hard to prove, isn't it? You were certainly angry at Carolina, and you had a lot riding on this convention, didn't you?”

  Lexie shivered at the tone of Kendra’s voice, so she reached down to put a soothing hand on the dog’s head.

  “But Doris Handly also had a problem with Carolina,” Kendra continued. “Carolina accused her of slander. Maybe the two of them got into a fight. It wouldn't be the first time people became so heated about their reputations. The courts are full of folks who disagree about intellectual property rights and about slanderous comments.”

  Rocky Winchester stepped forward. She and April had been largely silent until now. “I think I need to set the record straight. Doris and Jane weren't the only people to have legal issues with Carolina. That witch kept an attorney on staff solely for the purpose of protecting her rights—and for protecting rights she didn't really have! The woman was a black hole when it came to ideas.”

  “What?” Kiki Lowenstein's voice went up a notch. “Why? In the scrapbooking world, people swipe each other's ideas all the time.”

  Gerry nodded. “That happens in the miniature business, too.”

  “And Rosie still could be behind this. It's pretty clear that Carolina doesn't really know very much at all about crafts. Rosie's the brains of the outfit. The creative brains, at least,�
�� said Kiki.

  Kendra nodded. “That's true, but it sure would be obvious. I can tell you from my own practice as an attorney that intellectual property rights are a huge issue. A confusing one, too. Litigation about ownership can take years and cost millions. Often people just give up and walk away. But Jane's problem is much more immediate. She would need to wrap up the finances on this convention in order to be solvent for the Embroiderer's Guild of America state convention, isn't that right, Jane?”

  Jane nodded, her jaw tight with anger. “That's right. Carolina was playing games with me. Those little tricks could cost me a bundle. It wasn't just about the money I budgeted for this. Kendra, you and Betsy are quite correct. If I couldn't clear my books for this convention, I would be out of consideration for the Embroiderer's Guild of America. Again, I’m telling you I didn't kill her. If I had, would I have asked all of you to help me find the murderer? Not likely!”

  Gerry Porter agreed. “We still have plenty of other suspects. Rocky, why don't you tell us what happened between you and Carolina? That would give us an idea what might have happened to cause her death.”

  “We still need a concrete motivation and evidence before we call the police,” Betsy reminded everyone.

  Rocky shook her head and looked at her sister-in-law. “April, why don't you tell them what happened for me? I'm too angry to talk about it.”

  Part IV:

  Observations in the Murder of Carolina Pettijohn,

  submitted by April Buchert, rubber stamper.

  By Terri Thayer

  “Enough already. I didn’t drive 900 miles to stalk Carolina Pettijohn,” April Buchert said.

  “I did,” Rocky Winchester said. She clutched the cease and desist letter she’d received from Pettijohn’s company claiming our most popular Stamping Sisters line of stamps infringed on her copyright.

  Evidently she owned the phrase “Stamping Diva.” Rocky disagreed.

  And was planning on letting the Queen of Crafts know it.

  April was secretly glad that they hadn’t caught up with Carolina yet. Rocky was mad as heck and was itching for a fight. Rocky didn’t back down when she was right about something. She’d vowed to make Carolina Pettijohn eat the letter. April didn’t need to witness that.

  April sighed. “Yeah, well, we’re not very good at stalking. We’ve been five minutes behind her all day.”

  Carolina Pettijohn had proved to be an elusive target. First they’d seen a commotion at the miniature booth but by the time they’d gotten there, Carolina had been whisked away. They’d had a scheduled meeting with Jane Kuhn, the organizer, but she never showed. One of the volunteers said Jane was tied up with Carolina Pettijohn. She refused to tell Rocky where they were. They’d just missed Carolina again at the Crewel World booth. It was obvious she’d been there, judging by Godwin’s ruffled feathers. They’d spent fifteen minutes listening to his encounter with her.

  Rocky was not alone in her bitter dislike of the woman.

  April’s eyes traveled over the products in the booth behind Rocky. She was dying to sit down at a make-and-take and try out the latest gadget. She’d seen a battery operated heat gun a few aisles back that she couldn’t stop thinking about. There were new inks to experiment with, a super duper easy to carve stamp medium being touted. She was missing everything as they bypassed booth after booth, looking for the slippery Carolina Pettijohn.

  April had enough. “Let’s split up. Someone in our company needs to keep up with the latest products, you know.”

  Rocky’s eyes roamed over April’s head. As usual, only one eye was visible, the other lost under a curtain of black hair. April was going to be Rocky’s sister-in-law soon, they worked together in the Stamping Sisters but there was a part of Rocky that she’d never understand.

  “Suit yourself,” Rocky said.

  “Let’s meet back here at five. The show closes at six, and we can have the last hour to walk the aisles together.”

  April backed away from Rocky and plunged into the flow of customers, mostly women who crowded the aisles. Women of all shapes, sizes, colors were jammed into the convention center. White House economists had only to look here for signs of recovery. No recession was going to stand between these women and their hobbies.

  April knew “hobby” was too small of a word for what these women felt. Obsession, higher calling, passion, came closer but didn’t describe it either. She spotted a woman with a holding up a sign that read “Art Heals.” That was better.

  She turned back but Rocky was already gone.

  # # #

  By five fifteen, April was beginning to worry. She circled again, checking the aisle and booth number. This was where they’d parted ways two hours ago. She shifted her packages. It didn’t make a bit of difference. The bags were still too heavy and her feet still hurt. She sent a mental apology to her mother, Bonnie, for not believing her when she complained about the soles of her feet burning. Hers were on fire now. At least the pain kept her mind off her stomach. She was starving.

  Dang Rocky. If she’d known she was going to be late, she’d have made a trip to the car and dropped this stuff off. There was a power bar in the glove compartment with her name on it.

  Finally, she saw Rocky loping toward her.

  “Success?” April asked.

  Rocky smiled and nodded. “Skittles?” Rocky said, holding her palm out. It was full of the little candies. April looked for her favorite flavor, the yellow ones, but there were none. She shook her head. She wanted real food.

  “What about Carolina? So did you see her? What did you say? What did she say? Do we have to discontinue that line?”

  “Let’s just say we came to terms.”

  Rocky poured the rest of the candy down her gullet and reached out to help April. She winced as she grabbed a bag. She had a cut on her other hand.

  “How’d you do that?” April asked, as she fished for a tissue to stop the bleeding.

  “Beats me,” Rocky said. They started walking toward the exit.

  “So you took care of Carolina?” April asked. She was eager to put this day behind them.

  “Carolina Pettijohn will never bother us again.”

  # # #

  April finished her observations, and all our eyes turned to Rocky. Kendra Ballantyne spoke first. “Do you need an attorney? I don't practice here, but I can probably find a good criminal—”

  “I didn't do it! She was alive when I left her,” snarled Rocky. “All I did was swipe a handful of her Skittles. See? I even got her to sign this form saying she wouldn't pursue the matter.”

  Her hand shook as she held out a typed sheet for us to examine. At the bottom of the form was Rosie Jackson's name and signature as witness. Rocky had even thought to have both women write the time and date beside their names.

  “I don’t think this would hold up in court,” said Kendra.

  “Okay, so I'm not a lawyer! I'm not a murderer either!”

  Gerry sighed. “I believe you, Rocky. If you had killed Carolina, you wouldn't have stuck around.”

  “Or maybe she would have stuck around. Remember that Edgar Allan Poe story, ‘The Purloined Letter’?” mused Betsy Devonshire.

  “I don't remember much about that story,” said Kiki Lowenstein. “My favorite Poe tale was ‘The Gold Bug.’” It was a bit of a non-sequitur, but really, all of the crafters were stressed at that point. They were tired from walking around the convention floor, hungry because it was time for dinner, and disappointed that what had seemed like a fun outing had turned into a nightmare. None of the women enjoyed playing amateur sleuth, but here they were, with a corpse in the next room and the prospect of the cops hauling away one of their number.

  “I think I'd better tell you all what I saw,” said Molly Pink. She'd been so quiet, everyone had mostly forgotten she was even in the room.

  Molly set her shoulders and added, “I think I know who did this. It wasn't Rocky. And I think I can prove who did it, too.”

  P
art VI:

  Observations in the Murder of Carolina Pettijohn,

  submitted by Molly Pink, crochet aficionado.

  By Betty Hechtman

  “Molly, you’ve got to see these,” my friend Dinah Lyons called. When I turned toward her voice, she was standing in front of a booth called The Yarn Boutique, holding up a handful of glittery crochet hooks.

  “I can’t. I have to find Carolina Pettijohn now. Once she gets involved with signing her books, I won’t get a chance to talk to her.” As event coordinator for Shedd & Royal Books and More it was my job to set up author events. As soon as I heard Carolina was going to be traveling to the West Coast next month, I wanted to set something up with her. It would be a win-win. Carolina Pettijohn would sell a lot of books and we’d have a wonderful event. I’d already started to plan on some kind of “make and take” from her book. No need to mention to Carolina that many of the events I put on ended up with an interesting twist. Surely there was at least one project in her book that was disaster proof.

  I gave the area the once-over again, and still there was no sign of Ms. Pettijohn. Too late I realized I should have gone up to her when I’d seen her before, even if it had meant interrupting. She’d always been surrounded by a bunch of people. I joined Dinah at the yarn booth. The woman behind the counter handed Dinah one of the gold flecked hooks and some yarn and urged us to try it, explaining they were turbo hooks and guaranteed to make our crocheting go faster.

  With yarn and hooks in our hands, it was easy to lose track of time. When I glanced at my watch I didn’t mean to, but I shrieked out loud and dropped the hook and yarn. I stepped back in the aisle and started craning my neck. Where could Carolina be?

  Dinah joined me and handed me a bag with a bunch of yarn and several of the turbo hooks. “My treat. It’s the least I can do after you came all the way to St. Louis with me. You have no idea how much I appreciate your coming to my niece's wedding with me.”