“Fire at Will,” David said as he answered the phone.
“Hey, it’s me. How’s everything going?”
“We had a few customers come in,” he said.
“Any sales?”
“No, they were just browsing. Don’t worry, I know things will pick up,” he said.
“Let’s hope so. Listen, would you mind closing up this evening? I’m not going to be able to get back in time.”
“Sure, it’s no problem. My class isn’t until later. That reminds me, you’ve got a message.”
“Who from?” Had one of my queries finally paid off?
“Bill called. He’s going to grab a sandwich so he can finish dressing. That doesn’t make any sense, does it?” He hesitated a second, then added, “At least I think that’s what it says.”
David should have been in medical school, his handwriting was so bad. “Could it have been that he had to finish the dressers?”
David paused, then said, “If you say so.”
“That has to be what it means. Is there anything else?”
“No,” he said. “Herman Meadows came by. He said you called him, but he was tied up somewhere else. I told him to call you back, but he said he’d catch up with you later.”
“Is that it?”
“That’s it. Have you had any luck?”
“Maybe, but it’s too soon to tell for sure,” I said. “Is your mom teaching any of her classes today?”
“She should just be finishing up. Why, do you want to talk to her?”
“No, I was just curious.” I’d been hoping Hannah would be off campus, but no such luck. Maybe I’d be able to dodge her inside. I was afraid if she knew how actively I was pursuing the case, she might reacquire her fear that I would involve David. “Have a nice evening.”
“I would, but I have class, remember?”
I glanced at my cell phone and saw that the battery was getting low. I’d have to charge it tonight, something I was constantly forgetting to do. It was amazing how easily I’d gotten used to the convenience of the thing, and how much I missed it when I didn’t have it with me.
After taking a deep breath, I knocked on Robert’s door, but instead of my potter, I found a sandy haired young man with the longest fingers I’d ever seen in my life. He had on overalls that were spattered with clay, a true potter’s uniform, so I knew we were kindred spirits. “Hi, I’m looking for Robert Owens.”
“You just missed him.” He dismissed me without another thought, but I wasn’t about to go away that easily.
“Do you know where I might find him?”
“Not a clue,” he said.
Enough was enough. “I’m sorry, we haven’t met. I’m Carolyn Emerson. Robert teaches some classes for me at my pottery studio.” Okay, maybe calling Fire at Will a studio was a bit of a stretch, but it surely got his attention.
He looked up at me and smiled. “I’m Jack Hall. I’ve heard a lot about your place.”
“All good, I hope.”
“Absolutely. Listen, if you ever need anyone to teach some classes part-time, I’m a doctoral candidate in ceramics, and I’m always looking for ways to supplement my income.”
“Why don’t you give me your name and number and I’ll keep you in mind,” I said as I handed him a fresh sheet from my notebook.
“That would be great.”
As he wrote, I said, “Maybe you can help me. I’m trying to find out if Robert was in town a few days ago.”
“Well, we got back from North Carolina on Wednesday. Does that help?”
“Are you saying you went with him?”
He looked disgusted. “Yeah, he dragged me there to help him pack his equipment and some of his work. It was a little above and beyond the call of duty, if you ask me, but he didn’t give me much choice.”
“And you were there with him the entire time?”
“Every second. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Do me a favor, don’t mention this to Robert, would you?”
“Why not?” Jack definitely looked suspicious about my request.
“It’s just that I’d asked him to teach for me Tuesday night, and I wasn’t sure if he was in town and ducking me, or if he really did go away.”
“He was gone. I can vouch for that.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
“Hey, aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked me.
“What’s that?”
“My number,” he said as he shoved the paper in my hand. “I’m serious about teaching, and I’m really good at it, if I say so myself.”
“I’ll keep you in mind, I promise,” I said.
Just my luck, I bumped into Hannah out in the hallway.
“Carolyn, what are you doing here?”
“Would you believe I was looking for you?” I asked.
“No, not when you’re coming out of Robert Owens’s office. Is there anything wrong?” A dark cloud spread across her face. “Come here a second.”
She pulled me down the hall and into her office. Once the door was safely closed, Hannah asked, “This has to do with Betty Wickline’s murder, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. I have to keep digging. Every shred of evidence I turn up, the sheriff either discounts, ignores, or refuses to believe.”
“You’re not dragging my son into this, are you?” she asked sternly.
“David’s watching the shop while I snoop around,” I said. “I’m not forcing him to do anything you wouldn’t approve of.”
“It wouldn’t take any force, and we both know it. I just don’t want him involved.”
“We talk, but he’s not doing anything for me but working at Fire at Will.” Though David had found the note on his own, I wasn’t about to tell Hannah that. After all, I hadn’t asked him to look around Betty’s house; he’d done that of his own free will.
“So, what have you found out?”
“Do you really want to know, or are you just being polite?”
She grinned. “Have you ever known me to do anything just because I was trying to be polite?”
“You’ve got a point. Well, at least I’ve managed to cross a few names off my list. There are still entirely too many people I suspect, though.”
“Just be careful,” Hannah said.
“Don’t worry, I get enough of that from Bill.”
“Hey, your husband loves you. That’s not a bad thing.”
“I know. Well, I’ve got to run. I’ve got a few more names on my list to check out.”
Hannah frowned. “Just don’t ask David to work late. He’s got a class tonight.”
“Don’t worry, we’re closing early. He’ll have plenty of time to get out here.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Can I walk you out?”
“That would be nice,” I said.
We bumped into Robert Owens as he was going into his office. “Were you here to see me?” he asked harshly.
“I came to visit Hannah,” I said. Now that I’d struck him off my list, I didn’t want to antagonize him any more than was absolutely necessary.
He nodded and ducked inside. I just hoped Jack would keep his promise and not say anything about my visit. Then I realized he wouldn’t, not if he wanted any shot at teaching future classes at Fire at Will.
“Herman, I need to ask you something.” I’d finally gotten hold of my landlord at his office. It was a small, odd little building a few blocks away from the brook walk. The place was barely big enough to hold his desk and filing cabinets. A small sofa was made up into a bed, and I doubted even at his height Herman would be able to stretch out on it. “Are you living here now?”
He grinned. “I sold my house and haven’t found anything I like yet. I made 200 percent profit on it in eight months. Can you believe that?”
“Why don’t you at least rent a place until you find something else you like?” I couldn’t imagine anything more depressing than living and working in such a confining place.
“I don�
�t want to waste the money,” he admitted. “This is fine. It’s not like anybody ever comes here but me.”
“It’s not exactly a place you could bring a date back to after dinner and a movie though, is it?”
“I manage,” he said. “Now what can I do for you?”
“I’m wondering where you were the night Betty was murdered.”
He stared at me a few seconds, then asked, “Why do you want to know that? Carolyn, are you seriously getting mixed up in this?”
“All you have to do is tell me where you were so I can mark you off my list.”
He hopped up from his chair. “You honestly think I could have killed her?”
It appeared that I was destined to anger everyone I knew, but if that was the price I had to pay to find the truth, so be it. “Take it easy. You had a key, so that automatically makes you a suspect.”
He shook his head. “So does half of Maple Ridge, and that just matters if you actually locked your door, which I still doubt.”
“Do you have an alibi or not?”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am, I was here going over my books. I didn’t talk to anybody that I remember and nobody came by to visit.” He gestured around the room. “This isn’t exactly a great place to have company, you know?”
“Thanks anyway,” I said.
“You’re welcome. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a ton of work to do tonight, so I’d better get to it. I’m going to heat up a can of beans for dinner. You want some?”
“No, thanks. I’ve got more work to do myself.” I was sure there were worse things to do than split a can of beans with Herman Meadows, but at the moment, none came to mind.
I thought about going by the sheriff’s house, but bracing Evelyn Hodges in her own den and demanding an alibi took a little more backbone than even I had. I could call her on the telephone, though.
“Do you have a phone book I could borrow?” I asked.
“Sure thing,” he said as he slid a tattered old copy across his desk to me. “Who are you going to call?”
“I need the sheriff’s number,” I said as I found it, jotted it down on a piece of paper, then handed him the book. “Bye.”
He grumbled a good-bye of his own and I left.
I walked back to the car, and instead of starting it up, I called the sheriff’s house, hoping and praying Hodges himself didn’t answer.
“Hello?” It was Evelyn.
“Hi, it’s Carolyn Emerson.”
“I’ve got nothing to say to you.” There wasn’t an ounce of warmth in her voice.
“I just called to apologize,” I lied.
“Yes?” Did I hear a slight thaw in her voice, or was it my imagination?
“I didn’t mean to imply anything earlier. Is there a chance we could get together and chat?”
“Who’s that on the phone?” I heard the sheriff call out to her.
“It’s a wrong number,” Evelyn told him.
His voice was much closer as he said, “Then hang up.”
We were disconnected, and I sat there staring at my phone a few seconds before I tucked it back into my purse. Herman was standing by the window, and he waved when we made eye contact. I nodded and drove off before he offered me a bean dinner again. I glanced at my watch and realized that David had closed the shop by now. I knew my husband was working hard to finish up the dresser set, but I wanted to talk to him, so I decided to take a chance and interrupt him while he was working.
“Hello? Bill, are you here?” I’d tapped at the back door of the furniture shop, then pounded on it before shouting my question. Bill had explained to me that his dusty old outbuilding in the back corner of our property was fine for construction, but that he needed the clean work area at the furniture shop to stain and hand wax the pieces after they were built.
His truck was in the back parking lot of the shop, but so far, he hadn’t answered my summons.
“Hang on,” he finally said.
I waited five minutes and was about to pound again when the back door opened. “Hey, Carolyn. What are you doing here?”
“Can’t a woman visit her husband at work?” I asked.
“She can, but she usually has a reason,” Bill said.
“I wanted to see you,” I admitted.
He smiled that crooked grin of his, the one I’d first fallen in love with a thousand years ago. “Come on in. You can keep me company.”
I followed him to the corner he had set up for finishing and saw a lovely matching pair of blond dressers in the elegant but simple Shaker style we both loved so much.
“Nice dovetails on the base,” I said. Dovetails are a type of joinery that secures two pieces of wood at a ninety-degree angle. They get their name from the fanlike nature of the exposed joints, something I’d learned from Bill.
“They turned out pretty nice,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t mind keeping these,” he added as he rubbed a palm over the top of one of them. “Just one more coat of wax and they’ll be done.”
“We could buy them ourselves,” I said.
He laughed. “You want to know the truth? We couldn’t afford them. So, what’s on your mind?”
“What do you mean?”
“Carolyn Emerson, I’ve been married to you half my life. You don’t think I can read you by now? You’re here for more than a visit, not that I don’t appreciate it.”
“It’s about Betty Wickline,” I admitted. “Now before you start into another lecture, I’d better warn you, I’m not in the mood for it, do you hear me?”
“I understand what you’re saying,” he said. “What about Betty?”
“I’ve got so many suspects I don’t know where to turn. I want to be able to talk to you about this, Bill. It’s important for me to find out what happened to her.”
He took it in, then nodded. “Go ahead, unload it.” He picked up a can of wax and a soft rag, then worked as I listed my suspects and the motives I’d been able to come up with.
Finally, he said, “What does your gut tell you?”
“Honestly, I’m more confused than ever. Sheriff Hodges has been acting so strangely I’m inclined to think he had something to do with it.”
“I kind of doubt it,” Bill said, immediately contradicting me.
“Why is that?” I asked, trying to sound huffy. “Don’t you think he’s capable of murder?”
“That’s not the reason why. It’s just that the sheriff’s too smart to leave the body in your shop like that if he did kill Betty. I’ve got a feeling he’d know where to dump a body so it would never be found.”
“That’s a pretty dark perspective,” I said.
He shrugged as he applied the wax. “That’s just my take on it. How about Evelyn? Would she kill Betty to protect her marriage?”
I thought about sweet and solid Evelyn, and then I remembered the vitriol she’d had in her eyes when we’d talked about Betty. “There’s no doubt in my mind she could have done it. But how do I ask her for an alibi?”
“That’s a tough one,” he said. Bill was so calm when he worked, his normal gruffness barely there. “You could probably strike old Herman off your list. He thinks he’s a lady-killer, but not the kind you mean.”
“I’d tend to agree with you, but he didn’t have an alibi when I asked him for one.”
Bill snorted. “Carolyn, I doubt I’d have an alibi most nights, if it weren’t for you. The man lives alone, remember?”
“In his office,” I said.
Bill dropped his rag on the dresser top. “I knew Herman was cheap, but what happened to his house?”
“He sold it, so he’s camping out in that odd little building where he has his office.”
“I never said he wasn’t strange. Speaking of unusual people, do you honestly believe Tamra Gentry could have killed Betty?”
“She was in New York at the time of the murder,” I replied, “but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t have hired someone else to do it.”
“And risk being blackma
iled again? That was your motive for her, wasn’t it?”
I admitted that it was. “Then how about Larry or his girlfriend Connie? Either one of them could have done it.”
Bill shook his head. “But you said they were in Boston.”
“So they say, but I never saw a receipt.” My stomach grumbled loud enough for Bill to hear it.
“Haven’t you eaten yet?”
“I was hoping you’d buy me something,” I said.
“I’ll give you a few bucks, but I ate an hour ago. I’ve got to finish these up.”
“I don’t want your money,” I said. “I was hoping for your company. I’m starving. You promised me a night out on the town, remember?”
“Sorry, but this is the best I can do,” he said. “How about a rain check?”
“Fine,” I said. “Can you stop long enough to kiss your wife good-bye, or will that ruin your precious finish?”
“I think we can risk it,” he said as he leaned down to kiss me good-bye. He smelled like peppermint and furniture wax, not a bad combination, surprisingly.
“See you tonight. And stay out of dark alleys.”
“I will if you will,” I said.
It was getting dark out when I left the shop, and I thought about driving home and making a sandwich, but I didn’t want to eat by myself. I walked down to Shelly’s Café and had a bowl of chili and half a club sandwich, and virtuously resisted dessert. Eleanor Klein was working behind the counter, giving Shelly one of her rare nights away from the place. I had a batch of iced cookies in the freezer at home, so if I got peckish later, I wouldn’t have to go without a treat.
As I walked back toward where I’d parked the Intrigue, I had a feeling someone was watching me from the shadows again. “Bill, is that you?”
No reply. Maybe it was just my imagination running away with itself. I increased my speed, barely holding myself back from running. By the time I reached the Intrigue, my pulse was racing and I was a little out of breath.
A call was waiting for me on my machine when I got home, and I hit the play button as I headed to the kitchen for a cookie and a glass of milk. After all, running to my car had been some exercise, I justified to myself.
A Murderous Glaze Page 16