A Murderous Glaze

by Melissa Glazer

  He asked me indignantly, “Why didn’t you give it to me then?”

  “I didn’t find it until I walked outside. It was stuck to my shoe.” There, I’d just admitted my part in how the letter had gotten to him.

  “Now why don’t I believe you?”

  “I don’t know. It must be a character flaw of yours not to trust people.”

  He stared at me coldly for a few seconds before he spoke. “You wrote this yourself, hoping to divert my suspicion to someone else. It’s not going to work. You should know that. If anything, it makes you look more guilty in my eyes, not less. How did you talk Judge Blake into helping you?”

  “She didn’t,” I said simply. “It was my idea, from start to finish.”

  That shocked him. “So you’re actually admitting that it’s a fake.”

  “I’m doing nothing of the sort,” I said, not meaning to yell but doing it nonetheless. I caught Butch’s eye through the window, and he looked as though he was ready to come in, but I shook my head. I was going to handle this on my own. “The letter is real. I knew if I just walked up to you and handed it to you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Guess what? You were right. I don’t believe you.”

  “Then arrest me,” I snapped. “Or, and here’s an original thought, you could actually go out and find the real killer. I’ve got a list of suspects, if you’re interested.”

  “With my name at the top of your list, no doubt,” he said.

  “You’re on it,” I admitted, feeling my voice soften.

  “Who else?”

  “Are you serious? You really want to know? I’ve got the names on a board in back.”

  I started toward the back room, and Hodges followed reluctantly. He studied the list, along with my rationales for each suspect, then shook his head. “You know what your problem here is? You have no proof. I told you to butt out of this, and I meant it.”

  “If you think I’m going to stand around and wait to be handcuffed, you’ve lost your mind. If you won’t investigate this, I’m going to do it myself.”

  “Stay out of it, Carolyn. It’s none of your business. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” There was a hint of steel in his voice, and something deeper. The man was actually threatening me.

  I suddenly wished I’d asked Butch to stay. “I’m not afraid,” I said. “Of anything.”

  “Well, you should be,” the sheriff said.

  He walked out of the shop, and Butch came in a few seconds later. “What was that all about?”

  “Let’s see, our dear sheriff just accused me of writing the letter myself, and then he threatened me.”

  “That does it. It’s time I taught him a lesson.”

  Butch was heading for the door when I grabbed his arm. “Don’t make it worse, okay? Please, for me?” The last thing I wanted was for Butch to get into a fight with Sheriff Hodges on my account.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive, but thanks for offering.”

  Butch took a step away from me, easily breaking my grip on his arm. “He should have believed you.”

  “Well, he didn’t. I showed him my list of suspects, and he wasn’t thrilled finding his own name among them.”

  Butch smiled gently. “I bet he wasn’t. So what happens now?”

  “Do you mean because of his threat? I’m not going to let that stop me. I can’t make him believe me, but I can still try to find out the truth.”

  “Have you thought about who you’re going to take it to once you do figure out who killed Betty? Can you trust Hodges to follow through?”

  “That’s a good point.” I hadn’t even thought about the possibility of the sheriff ignoring me, but the more I considered it, the more sense it made.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got a friend with the state police we can go to.” He must have caught something in my expression as he added, “Don’t look so surprised. I have friends on both sides of the law.”

  “I’m starting to realize that,” I said.

  After Butch left, David came back. “Sorry I’m late. I got held up.”

  “Did they get much?” I asked.

  “What are you talking about?”

  I was feeling a little giddy after my confrontation with the sheriff. “You said you were held up. Were you scared?”

  “Carolyn, I wasn’t robbed. I meant I ran into a friend from high school, and we started talking about old times. That’s why I’m late. Did I miss anything?”

  I considered not mentioning what had just happened, but David would find out sooner or later. “The sheriff thinks I wrote the note to divert his suspicion toward someone else.”

  “It’s not a bad thought, is it?”

  “Only if I’d really killed her,” I said, the jocularity gone from my voice. “Is that what you think?”

  “No, of course not. I was trying to put myself in the sheriff’s shoes.”

  “Well, don’t,” I said a little harsher than I should have. “I don’t need anyone else believing I could have done such a terrible thing.”

  “I’m sorry,” David said. The poor boy looked as though he was about to cry.

  “It’s all right,” I said, stroking his arm lightly. “I know you believe in me.”

  “I do,” he said earnestly, and for just a second, I could see Hannah’s eyes in his. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “I’ve got a few errands to run,” I said. “Would you mind watching the shop by yourself again?”

  He looked around the deserted place. “I think I can handle it. Should we have a sale or something to get folks to come back in? Maybe a sidewalk demonstration?”

  “No, the situation’s not that desperate yet.” I hated flogging my wares on the sidewalk, and not because I didn’t like being the center of attention. Well, not entirely because of that.

  “So, where are you going?” he asked.

  “I’m going to revisit my suspects and see if I can get any of them to admit to something they don’t want to.”

  “How are you going to do that?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, but I’ll be sure to let you know as soon as I figure it out.”

  Before I left the shop, I copied down the list on the blackboard in back. There was no need for motives on the list, though that would be crucial in determining the murderer’s identity. All I needed was an idea of who I should talk to. The names “Sheriff Hodges, Evelyn Hodges, Larry Wickline, Robert Owens, Herman Meadows, Tamra Gentry, Connie Minsker, Kendra Williams” nearly filled up a page in my notebook. But who should I talk to first? That answer presented itself when Kendra called out to me from Hattie’s Attic. It was time to find out if Kendra herself had had anything to do with Betty Wickline’s death.

  To Kendra’s surprise, I walked over to her without her having to call me twice. Her shop, in stark contrast to mine, was brimming with customers.

  “Shouldn’t you be inside waiting on all of them?” I asked her. Shop owners who ignored their customers were one of my biggest pet peeves.

  “Are you kidding? They love it when they have to track me down. Acting disinterested is one of my biggest selling tools.”

  That strategy would never work at Fire at Will. My browsers would just leave if I didn’t wait on them hand and foot. At least that was my theory, and I didn’t have the guts to try to disprove it.

  “I need to talk to you,” I said.

  “Let me go first. You should know that Larry Wickline’s girlfriend was furious about the alimony he was paying Betty.”

  “I know. Connie told me about it herself.” That seemed to take some of the wind from her sails.

  “But did you know that Larry broke up with her right after the murder?”

  “Actually, I knew that, too.” She was really reeling now. It seemed that I’d out-gossiped the gossip queen. “She’s mad enough to kill him, and if I were Larry, I’d watch my back. Those scissors look sharp.”

  “Do you honestly think she’d murder him?” Kendra
looked absolutely delighted by the prospect.

  “No, I don’t think so, but then again, I’ve been wrong before. Kendra, how well did you know Betty?”

  “We’ve already talked about that,” she said abruptly.

  “No, I’m pretty sure we haven’t.”

  “I knew her; of course I did. Everyone in town knows everyone else. Maple Ridge is not that big a place, is it?”

  She was acting oddly, even for her, and that was saying something.

  “Did she ever shop here?”

  Kendra’s gaze avoided mine, and I knew I’d struck a chord, so I pushed harder. “Was she unhappy with something she bought from you?”

  Kendra wanted to deny it—I could see it in her shifting gaze—but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. “She was so rude. How was I supposed to know that piece was a fake? It came with a provenance. I offered her a refund.”

  “A full refund?” I’d heard rumors about Kendra’s dealings with customers, and I wouldn’t have bought a ten-dollar bill from her for $3.75.

  “Not at first, but I finally gave her check back to her. She was so rude about it all.”

  “That must have just killed you,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “You’ve never given a full refund in your life.”

  “She insisted,” Kendra said. For a large woman, she suddenly seemed very small. “I can’t stand out here all day and talk to you. I’ve got to help my customers.”

  “I thought your sales tactic was to ignore them,” I said with as much false sweetness as I could muster.

  “Good-bye, Carolyn.” She tore back into her shop and left me on the sidewalk, wondering if Kendra was hiding more than just a refund admission. She’d bear looking into, but it would have to be when I could catch her off guard again.

  To my surprise, I found Larry Wickline at Hair Apparent, talking earnestly with Connie Minsker on a bench outside the beauty shop. It would be a great chance to speak with two of my suspects at the same time. From the look of things, they were delving deeply into their own problems, and while I normally hated to butt into other people’s lives, it might give me an edge if they were both already off balance.

  “Excuse me, do you two have a second?”

  Connie dismissed me without looking up. “Sorry, we’re in the middle of something.”

  “This won’t take long. It’s about Betty’s murder.”

  That got their attention. They both looked at me suddenly, and Larry snapped, “Who are you?”

  “We haven’t met, but we did speak on the phone. I’m Carolyn Emerson. Betty was murdered in my shop.”

  “She’s okay,” Connie said, temporarily vouching for me. “What do you need, Carolyn?”

  “The sheriff and I were going over a list of suspects earlier, and I wanted to clear something up.” Okay, technically that was a bald lie, but he had glanced at my list; I’d seen him. Maybe we weren’t exactly consulting on the investigation, but I did want information. Besides, how much more hot water could I get into with the man? He could only lock me up once for interfering with police business, couldn’t he?

  “He’s a jerk,” Larry said.

  “I can probably get him off your back if you tell me where you were the night your wife was murdered.”

  “Ex-wife,” they said in unison.

  “Would you mind telling me where you both were?”

  “You bet I’d mind. It’s none of your business.” Larry was a real charmer, and I wondered what Connie was doing with him.

  She said, “Larry, don’t be that way. She’s just trying to help. Can’t you see that? Carolyn, we were together in Boston. There’s no way we could have killed her, either one of us.”

  Larry looked surprised by the admission. “Why did you just tell her that?”

  “It’s only right to tell the truth.” The look of insistence in her eyes was hard to ignore.

  “You shouldn’t have said anything,” he grumbled.

  “Where exactly in Boston were you?” I asked. If I could get the name of their hotel, I might be able to confirm their alibi.

  “I think it was the Independence Motor Inn,” she said.

  “No, it wasn’t. It was the Liberty Bell or something like that.”

  Connie frowned. “No, that’s not it, either. It had something to do with history and patriots and stuff like that. I remember that much.”

  Gee, that narrowed it down to about a thousand hotels and motels in the greater Boston area. “Do you happen to have a receipt from your stay?”

  “No, we paid cash, and I’m pretty sure I tossed it when I was cleaning out the car the other day,” Larry said. “But we’ve both got alibis, so tell the sheriff to get off our backs.”

  I had barely left when the two of them started bickering about the name of the place they’d stayed. Larry had looked surprised when Connie mentioned the motel. Was it because he didn’t think Connie should tell me they’d gone away the night his ex-wife had been murdered, or because they hadn’t gone out of town at all? I didn’t know, and worse yet, I had no way of checking out their story.

  I hated to do it, but it was time to talk to Tamra again.

  Her butler answered the door on the first ring. “Yes?”

  “Hi, I’m Carolyn Emerson. Remember me? I was here before.”

  “Of course,” he said as if he didn’t believe me.

  “May I speak with Tamra?”

  “Wait one moment.”

  At least this time he let me wait in the foyer instead of outside. Her home was the most beautiful I’d ever been in, but then again, Tamra had more money than I would see in a thousand lifetimes. I wouldn’t have traded with her, though, if it meant I couldn’t have Bill or all of my friends. It suddenly struck me that Tamra was lonely. I could be accused of a great many things, but never that.

  Tamra came breezing in with three scarves in her hand. “Which do you like, Carolyn? I’m packing light this trip.”

  “Where are you going?”

  She frowned as she stared at her selections. “Back to the city. I never should have left. That’s where all my true friends really are.”

  “Burlington?” I asked.

  “New York,” she answered almost disdainfully. “Oh, never mind. I’ll take them all.” She frowned at me and added, “Why are you here? It’s not for more money, is it? I’m afraid you caught me in a moment of weakness before.”

  “No, you were most generous the last time I was here.”

  “What is it, then?”

  How on earth could I ask this woman for an alibi when she’d donated so much money to the school library on my behalf? “I was just wondering if you’d like to have lunch sometime.” It was the only thing I could think of. I really needed to get more cover stories together.

  Tamra looked touched by the offer. “What a delightful thought. I’m sorry, though, I’ve got a car coming for me any second. It’s so much better than flying. I only arrived here the day you visited me the first time, but I’m afraid I miss the city too much.”

  “Have a nice trip,” I said.

  “It will be dreadful, but it’s worth it. And Carolyn…”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you for the invitation. I’ll call you the second I get back to town.”

  “That would be lovely.”

  I was outside walking toward my car when a limousine pulled up. The driver, wearing a full chauffeur’s ensemble, got out and polished the door handle after he closed it.

  “Excuse me, but do you always take Mrs. Gentry to New York?”

  He nodded. “I’m the only one she’ll ride with.”

  “Do you happen to know when she came up? We were discussing it earlier, and she wasn’t sure.”

  He reached into his jacket and pulled out his log book. After he gave me the date, he said, “I’d better go. I know she won’t be ready, but the lady expects me to be on time, and she’s paying for the privilege.”

  “Thanks. Have a nice drive.”

  He shrugg
ed slightly, readjusted his cap, then walked to the front door.

  Once I was back in the Intrigue, I took out my list and struck a line through Tamra’s name. The driver had confirmed her alibi, and while I knew it was possible she could have paid for the murder instead of doing it herself, I was going to forget about her unless something more compelling came up.

  That left three names on my master list of suspects I hadn’t yet spoken with again, and of the group, only Herman Meadows would be without drama. Normally when I had a list of chores to do, I got the most unpleasant ones out of the way first, but talking to Evelyn Hodges and Robert Owens would be much worse than cleaning a bathroom. I’d find Herman, hopefully get an alibi so I could strike his name off my list, and then move on to Evelyn and Robert.

  Wouldn’t you know it, I got my landlord’s voice mail when I called his office from my cell phone. I wasn’t ready to tackle Evelyn, and I wasn’t entirely sure I was going to talk to her at all. Tamra’s place wasn’t that far from Travers College, so I decided to swing by there and see if my pottery teacher had anything else to say for himself about Betty Wickline.

  Chapter 11

  “I’m looking for Robert Owens’s office,” I told the uniformed security guard in front of the student union. I’d thought about asking one of the students, but none of them would slow down long enough to answer my questions. There was something fresh and alive about the school, and I thought yet again about taking classes in my leisure hours. Not that I had that much time on my hands, but it would be fun to be on a campus again, not as somebody’s mother as I had been a few years before, but as a student, there to learn. I could have easily asked Hannah for directions, but I didn’t want her to know why I was there.

  “Sure, that’s easy enough,” the man said. “Just go down Twilight Lane and look for the Markel Building. All the faculty offices are there.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I hadn’t realized that all of the staff had offices in the same quarters. I wasn’t sure what I would tell Hannah about my visit if I happened to run into her, but I’d think of something. I could always ask her out to lunch in return for the last meal she’d bought us. Well, maybe I’d make it dinner. David might have to close the shop today at the rate I was going. I decided to call and check in with him before I went inside.