A Murderous Glaze

by Melissa Glazer

  “You go ahead,” Annie said. “I’m going to sit right here.” Her look was full of pleading as she added, “Don’t be long, Carolyn, okay?”

  “I promise I’ll make it quick.”

  I carefully skirted the spilled flour and made my way deeper into the house. Whoever had trashed the place hadn’t stopped at the kitchen. Sofa cushions had been slashed open in the living room, and the master suite was even worse. The mattress and box spring were on the floor, with cuts across the fabric. Entire drawers were pulled out of the dressers and their contents added to the pile. What had the mysterious visitor been looking for? Betty must have been keeping some kind of secret, but what could it have been? I walked into the closet and felt more than a tick of envy as I surveyed an unbelievably large space. That’s when I realized she had converted one of the bedrooms into a closet. This woman must have had a budget for shoes that was more than my mortgage payment. It was just one more indication that Betty Wickline had a source of income that nobody else knew about.

  “Carolyn, are you finished? I’m getting nervous.”

  “I won’t be much longer,” I called out. I was about to give up on the closet when I noticed something poking out from the toe of one of the shoes. It was a key, like the kind for lockers at the Y or at a bus terminal. But what could it mean? I tucked it into my purse and started rooting around the other shoes when I heard a voice behind me.

  “Stand up slowly, and don’t make a move.”

  “How can I stand if I can’t move?” I asked.

  There was no mistaking the voice. It was our town sheriff, and from the sound of it, he was ready to shoot me first and ask questions later.

  When I turned around, he had his gun out of his holster, but at least it was by his side instead of pointing at me. I said, “You can put that away. I’m not dangerous, you know.”

  “I’m not so sure. What do you think you’re doing here?”

  It was time to dance. “I came by with Annie to get her cleaning supplies, and while she was in the kitchen, I thought I heard a kitten mewing back here. What did you want me to do, leave the poor thing here to die?”

  He looked around the closet. “I don’t see any cats.”

  I did my best to look perplexed. “Funny, I don’t either, now that you mention it. It must have been the wind.”

  “It’s dead calm outside.”

  Okay, he wasn’t buying it, but I didn’t exactly have a fallback position. “Sure it is right now, but what about five minutes ago? Or have you been out there waiting for me to make a break for it?”

  “I just got here,” he admitted.

  “Well, there you go.” At least he couldn’t dispute my claim of a gust of wind sounding like a kitten, no matter how much he wanted to. “What brings you here?”

  “A neighbor saw a light on and called us. Tell me you didn’t trash this place, Carolyn.”

  The mere thought of creating such mess and mayhem shook me. “Now why on earth would I do that?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m asking.”

  “We found it like this. Every bit of it,” I said, my righteous indignation valid for once. “Ask Annie.”

  “I did,” he agreed reluctantly. “That doesn’t mean you didn’t come back after you’d already wrecked the place once.”

  “If I had a key, why would I have needed Annie?” I wasn’t sure if I had just made an admission in there someplace, but I didn’t want the sheriff to have time to think about it. “This proves that someone else murdered Betty. Don’t you see that?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Well, I didn’t do it. Why would I come back here if I’d done this? Whoever did it was looking for something, and from the state of things, I’m guessing he didn’t find it.”

  Hodges nodded. “So that’s why you came back. You brought Annie this time as a cover in case I showed up, which was actually pretty clever of you, because here I am.”

  “I didn’t do this,” I said, nearly in tears despite my resolve to keep my head. Why wouldn’t the man believe me?

  “I’m not willing to say what I think yet one way or the other,” he said, but at least he put his gun back in its holster. “There’s another theory you haven’t brought up yet, one that might be closer to the truth.”

  “What’s that? If you’ve got an explanation, I’m ready to hear it.”

  He gestured around the bedroom. “This might not be related to Betty Wickline’s murder at all, at least not in the way you think it is.”

  “Now who’s stretching for something?” I asked.

  “There have been a string of burglaries in Hartford that this MO matches. The crooks read the obituaries, then scout the houses of the deceased. This fits that pattern.”

  I pointed to the mattress, which I could see a corner of from my vantage point in the closet. “So why rip up the box frame?”

  “How should I know? Would you like me to go back to my original theory that you were here snooping around for something Betty Wickline had on you?”

  “No, I can see how the burglary theory is possible,” I said, backpedaling as fast as I could.

  “I thought you might. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “Aren’t you at least going to dust the place for fingerprints?” I asked.

  “I’ve got a feeling all we’ll find are yours and Betty Wickline’s,” he said. “Even if you’re telling the truth, which I’m not about to admit, you should have called me before you started exploring on your own. Annie had the right idea. She was sitting on a bar stool by the door when I walked in. She nearly fainted when she saw my drawn gun.”

  “Okay, maybe I should have called you, but would you have believed my story any more if I’d reported this before I had a look around myself?”

  “What happened to the cat?”

  For a split second, I almost said, “What cat?” but providence stopped me. “That’s what I just said. I was looking for the cat.”

  “Sure you were,” he said as he started toward the front door of the house.

  “We came in the back way,” I said.

  “And you’re leaving through here.” He unlocked the door and opened it. “Stay away from this place, Carolyn. I’ll lock you up if I have to.”

  “I’d really rather you didn’t,” I said.

  Annie was gone when I got outside, and I honestly couldn’t blame her. Even if I could afford her cleaning tab, I doubted she’d be willing to work for me anymore. As I walked around the outside of the house back to the Intrigue, I realized that something was stuck to the bottom of one of my shoes. It was the torn third of a piece of paper, and when I turned it over, I saw the letters “is,” and just below it “ight.” Underneath that was “one”. What on earth could that mean? I thought about sharing my discovery with the sheriff, but after our conversation, I wasn’t in any mood to go back for more lecturing. I tucked the paper into my purse along with the key and wondered what they meant.

  I was tired, and my confrontation with the sheriff had taken more out of me than I’d realized. Though I probably should have done some more investigating, all I wanted was a quiet bite and a long bath. It was probably just as well that Bill was working on those dressers. I wasn’t in the mood for company, not even his.

  That’s why it surprised me so much when I saw the lights on in our house when I drove up.

  My dear husband was sitting on the sofa, and from the look on his face, he’d had a day nearly as bad as mine.

  “I thought you were working late,” I said. I put my jacket on the armchair. “I’d be glad to whip something up for you to eat, if you’d like.”

  “I already ate,” he said. “Carolyn, this has gotten out of hand.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The sheriff called me a few minutes ago and told me what happened. What were you thinking, walking around Betty Wickline’s place like you held the deed? Are you trying to get arrested?”

  “I’ve had enough lectures for toda
y, thank you very much.” The nerve of the man! He was actually scolding me.

  “That’s too bad, because you’re listening to one more. Stay out of this, Carolyn.”

  “What makes you think you have any right to tell me what to do? Has that ever worked for you in the past?”

  I was expecting another lashing, but instead, his scowl broke into a grin. “Now that you mention it, not that I can recall.”

  “So what makes you think it will work now?” I wasn’t ready to forgive him, no matter how adorable he looked at the moment.

  “I don’t guess I do,” he said as he rubbed a hand through his hair. I knew from years of marriage that that sign meant he was perplexed about the situation, and that he was giving up. That was one of the nicest things about being married to the same person for so long: after enough practice, you could read your spouse’s body language almost better than the newspaper.

  “Just be careful,” he said softly.

  “I will, but I can’t give up now.” I thought about sharing my finds with him, but I knew I shouldn’t push it. “Now that you’ve scolded me, you can go back to work.”

  “To tell you the truth, I’d rather hang around here with you, if that’s okay.”

  “No more lectures?” I asked, raising one eyebrow as I stared at him.

  “I can’t promise that,” he said slightly.

  “I know.” I hugged my husband a little harder and longer than usual, drawing strength from him. I always felt safest in his arms, and I needed that more than anything at the moment.

  “Hey, are you all right?” he whispered softly into my ear.

  I pulled away. “I am now. I’m going to make myself an omelet. Are you sure you wouldn’t like some?”

  “I could probably eat a bite, just to keep you company.”

  The old bear ended up eating more than I did, but I didn’t mind. I’d had a feeling he would, so I had adjusted the portions accordingly.

  After we’d eaten, he said, “Tell you what, why don’t you go grab that bath, and I’ll do the dishes.” He rarely made such an offer, so I knew Bill was really worried about me.

  “I think I’ll take you up on that,” I said, and went straight to the bathroom before he had a chance to change his mind. By the time I got out of the tub, he was on the couch, a book propped up on his belly, though his eyes were closed and he was softly snoring.

  “Come on, you old bear. It’s time for bed.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping,” he protested drowsily.

  “Sure you weren’t. I’m going to bed. Coming?”

  He rubbed his eyes. “I’m right behind you.”

  The next morning, the telephone at Fire at Will was ringing as I walked in the door. “Carolyn, I’m glad I caught you. I just found out something you should know about Betty Wickline.”

  “Good morning to you, too, Martha.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so abrupt. We’re going to my mother-in-law’s for a week, and I wanted to catch you before we left home.”

  “You poor dear. I’m so sorry.” Bill’s mother had been the queen of passive-aggressive behavior, and it had taken me the first ten years of our marriage to undue the damage that the woman had inflicted on my husband. She’d been a nightmare all the way around. The best thing that had ever happened to our marriage was when Gert had moved to Canada. Everyone else was flocking to Florida as they hit their retirement years, but not Bill’s mother. It figured she would go against the norm.

  “Are you kidding? Stella’s wonderful. She takes the kids for a few hours a day and plans a special treat for me on our visits. Last year she got me an hour with a masseuse, and this year she’s promised a full spa treatment. To be honest with you, I won the lottery when I married Charlie.”

  “Then strike what I said before. I’m happy for you. So, tell me this news.”

  She lowered her voice and said, “A friend of mine named Myrna Stout saw Betty the night she was murdered. She was having an argument on the street near your shop.”

  I knew Myrna. She had run Crazy Quilts until her degenerating eyesight had forced her to sell the business. I wasn’t sure what kind of eyewitness Myrna would make if she was ever called to testify. “Why are you whispering?”

  “Charlie’s in the next room packing, and I don’t want him to hear me. He’s not that thrilled with my snooping.”

  “Neither is Bill,” I admitted. “I don’t want to get you in trouble with your husband.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I can handle him. The only problem is, Myrna didn’t know the man Betty was arguing with. She said she didn’t recognize him, but we both know what that probably means.”

  “I’m guessing she didn’t give you any kind of description.”

  “Sorry, she said it was dark. I guess it wasn’t as big a tip as I thought.”

  “You never know. Thanks for calling.”

  I could hear her husband calling, “Martha, where are my golf shoes? I know they’re in here somewhere.”

  “They’re in the garage next to your clubs,” Martha said. To me, she added, “Carolyn, I’ve got to go. Packing for this family for a week is like moving the army.”

  “Bye, and have fun.”

  “You bet. Bye.”

  I wondered about the identity of the man Betty had been arguing with. Could it have been the sheriff? It was possible. Myrna had lived in town all her life, but would she know Hodges’s voice from a distance? Or Larry Wickline’s, for that matter? Who else could it have been? Herman had a key so he had to be on my list, but would Myrna have recognized him in the dark, either? I doubted the two of them traveled in the same circles. Could it have been Robert Owens, perhaps? The potter was new to Maple Ridge. But he’d claimed to be out of town, back in North Carolina. Besides, surely she’d be able to recognize his southern accent. Or did he have it when he was shouting? I didn’t know, and I wasn’t going to get into an argument with him just to test my theory. I wasn’t sure how I could check his alibi, and I wondered if I should tell the sheriff. Then I realized something else. Did that eliminate my female suspects? I had a handful of those as well, and it would certainly help my investigation if I could pare my list in half. That way I could drop Tamra Gentry, Connie Minsker, Evelyn Hodges, and even Kendra Williams, along with the rest of the female population of Maple Ridge.

  Then again, maybe the argument didn’t have anything to do with Betty’s murder. Detecting was harder than it looked—there was no doubt about that—but I had no choice.

  Jenna came in the shop a few minutes after I opened. Usually I welcomed any of the members of the Firing Squad, but from the dour expression on her face, I was afraid this wasn’t about the latest glaze we were trying at the shop.

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  “Those words usually strike terror in the hearts of married men, but to be honest with you, I’m not too keen on them right now myself. What’s going on?”

  “The whispers are growing,” she said.

  “Don’t tell me. I’m being tried in the court of public opinion, aren’t I?”

  “The longer this case goes unsolved, the more folks are starting to believe you might have had something to do with Betty’s murder. Have you made any progress?”

  “Not that you’d notice. I keep adding suspects instead of eliminating them. It’s growing at a pretty scary rate. I’m beginning to wonder if the woman had any friends at all. If she did, I haven’t been able to find them.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t stumble across anything at her house last night. Carolyn Emerson, what were you thinking? I can’t believe the sheriff caught you breaking and entering.”

  “We had a key,” I said, though even I realized how feeble I sounded.

  “You had someone with you? Would you care to name your co-conspirator?”

  “So how is it that everyone knows I was there, but not the identity of my accomplice?”

  She didn’t take the bait. “So you admit it’s true?”

  “
I had a legitimate purpose for being there,” I said.

  “I’d love to hear it.” Jenna gave me a stern look that must have intimidated attorneys on both sides, but she wasn’t a judge anymore, and we weren’t in court.

  “I’m sorry, I’m starting to forget again. Whose side are you on?”

  She frowned. “I believe you—you shouldn’t even have to ask—but you have to consider how this looks to everyone else.”

  “And here I thought I was trying to solve a murder instead of being elected maple-syrup queen.”

  “It’s obvious I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” she said. “We’ll discuss it later.”

  “Or we won’t,” I said without even looking at her. I wasn’t a big fan of being lectured to, not by Jenna, not by Bill, not by anybody.

  I looked down at the sales catalog of glazes I’d been reading when Jenna had come in. I expected to hear her leave, but after a few seconds, when there wasn’t a whisper of movement in the store, I looked up and saw tears tracking down her cheeks. All thoughts of my indignation were swept away in that trickle as I dropped the catalog and hugged my friend.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that,” I said.

  Jenna shook her head as she pulled away. “I’m the one who owes you an apology. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that I’m not a judge anymore. I have a tendency to overstep my bounds. It’s just because I care about you, Carolyn.”

  “I care about you, too,” I said. “And I really do appreciate your input.”

  “But you’ll do as you wish anyway, is that it?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t have much choice.” I thought about sharing the clues I’d found at Betty’s house the night before, but I suddenly realized I should be talking to the entire group about it. And that included David, no matter how Hannah felt about it. I needed to gather them together to discuss where things stood, but I couldn’t do it in the evening. With Martha out of town, that left Jenna, Butch, David, and Sandy. Sandy was the only one with regular employment, and if she couldn’t make it, I could catch her up later. “We need to have a meeting,” I said.

  “I’m ready if you are. What would you like to talk about?”