by Beth Urich
“How hard can that be?”
Kate shrugged. “By the way, thank you for getting that info for Etta yesterday. She was beside herself worrying about her friend.”
“I didn’t tell her much.”
“Enough to calm her down. We were able to return to her house and put everything back together.”
“How bad was it? I haven’t heard anything about the break-in.”
“Someone trashed a couple rooms. Apparently, Etta and Sarah surprised them.”
“Any idea who?”
“One, but Etta doesn’t agree.”
“Someone she knows?”
“Bryan Porter. His father was one of her best friends.”
“The guy who owns that flea market we went to a couple months ago? Somebody’s Treasures?”
“Tory’s Treasures. That’s him.”
“I seem to recall my dad helping him out once. It was a while ago, before I went to college. No big deal.”
“If your dad helped him, it is a big deal. Bryan feels like he’s been shafted most of his life. He blames the world for ruining his family and his life.”
“The world of Fortune Enterprises?”
“Mostly,” Kate agreed. “How did your dad help him?”
“I’m not sure about the details. Porter was getting a divorce and was in some kind of bind. I’m not even sure why Dad got involved.”
“Bryan Porter was married?”
“Why not? Many people get married.”
“I’ve spoken to quite a few people about the guy lately and no one has mentioned a former wife.”
“It would have been in the 70s. Why do you care?”
“I don’t. I’m naturally curious, I suppose.”
“You are nosy,” Shirley corrected as the waitress placed their meals on the table.
“It is part of my job description. And speaking of nosy, let’s talk about you and Sid.”
Shirley scowled mid-bite and said, “I’m not quite over that little marriage of mine.”
“The divorce was final seven years ago,” Kate said.
“Six years and eight months,” Shirley said.
“Long enough to move on.”
“You may have forgotten, I’ve tried to move on with several charming fellows, none of which survived more than three months and the last of which took a hike only five months ago.”
“All I can say is you never eyed any of those charming dudes like you did Sid. Maybe he’s worth a try. And, lucky you, I have a way to make that happen.”
“Is this my payback for encouraging you to get back together with Tom?”
“Yes, but consider it a reward.”
Shirley made no other comment regarding Sid Green, which Kate interpreted as a go-ahead to set them up for a double date with her and Tom—a little surprise for her friend.
KATE WALKED THE SHORT distance to City Hall to speak to Libby who went to school and graduated with Shirley and Kate. Since becoming the city engineer’s secretary Libby had proven to be a willing and usually reliable source at City Hall.
Claire was mumbling to herself as she organized a large pile of blueprints at the table behind the customer counter.
“Hi, Claire,” Kate said, causing the woman to turn around.
“Good morning. Sorry, I was trying to vanquish this chaos.”
“Always a noble gesture.”
“Thanks again, for lunch.”
“It was fun. We’ll have to make it a monthly thing,” Kate said. “Do you happen to know where your office mate is?”
“Right behind you,” Libby said, making a grand entrance. “I was at the copier. I seem to spend a lot of time at the copier.” She stacked a huge pile of paper on the counter and slapped the top page. “And this is for one meeting.”
“Sounds like fun,” Kate said. “Can you squeeze me in? I have a few questions for the real manager of engineering.”
“You do know how to grease those skids. Have a seat.”
Kate retrieved the project list from her bag and placed it in front of her friend. “Something is missing from this list,” she said.
“I can’t imagine we have an error on our log,” Libby said with a smile. “Tell me what’s missing and maybe Claire or I can solve the mystery.”
“There’s no project development listed for the St. Limas lot where the skeleton was discovered. From what I understand, it’s unusual for a lot to be cleared without a plan in place for use of the land. The clearing permit submitted by Councilman Allen is on file, but nothing else has been done.”
“Well, you’re correct in your assumption. Maybe this is one of those things that slipped through the cracks in the system, which is full of large cracks, as you know. Have you spoken to the councilman about this?”
“He gave me a couple of answers to pick from. I wondered if your boss had discussed the lot with Allen.”
“I’m not sure. He visits Calvin on occasion regarding official city business. I’m not aware of any meetings concerning this lot. Do you want to set up an appointment?”
“I’d rather avoid the traditional response to a reporter. Would you be able to casually approach the subject?”
Libby furrowed her brow slightly and smiled. “You want me to snoop around for you?”
“Like you said, your system has cracks. I’m thinking he’d be more receptive to your inquiring about a possible oversight. At best, Calvin is aware of specific development and everything is fine.”
“Let me see what I can find,” she said.
“Thanks. Anything you can share would be super.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
When Kate returned Jack Brighton’s “urgent” phone call, she reached his secretary, who said Mr. Brighton wanted to see her immediately about the article she’d sent for him to review. Kate wasn’t sure why he wanted to meet in person and could not imagine an urgency applied to the article contents. A simple phone call with changes would have sufficed, unless he hated the article beyond imagining. The reporter shook off the silly notion as she entered the office suite, where she was immediately taken to Brighton’s office.
“Kate, come in. You remember my son, Randy,” Jack said.
“Nice to see you again, Kate,” Randy said. “I’m off to St. Louis, but I wanted to compliment you on your article about Riverside Mercantile.”
Jack nodded toward his son and said, “Keep me posted on your progress.”
As soon as Randy left, Kate said. “Your secretary said you wanted to discuss the article. Did you hate it?”
“Absolutely not. As Randy said we wanted to tell you in person how much we enjoyed it. It was accurate and made the time seem more interesting than I remember.”
Although Brighton wouldn’t hurt her—at least not in his own office—she was beginning to feel a little nervous. Complimenting her profusely couldn’t be the only reason he wanted to see her. She wished he’d say what he needed to say or ask what he wanted to ask and let her move on.
Taking a chair close to Kate’s, he leaned forward as if preparing to tell her a secret. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to seem mysterious,” he said, apparently reading her puzzled expression. “To be blunt, I’m concerned about Etta.”
Now she was totally baffled. Why would he want to discuss Etta with a reporter? The woman seemed genuinely fond of Kate, but nothing more. Certainly, their newly formed relationship was trumped by an indisputably loyal friendship of over seventy years. Something told her Brighton was fishing so she waited for him to continue.
“I know you’ve spent a good bit of time with my friend these last few weeks. Has she said anything about a problem with Bryan Porter?”
“Not specifically,” Kate said.
“You know who he is?”
“He owns the Tory’s Treasures flea market on West 76.”
Brighton moved close to the edge of his chair. “I gather he’s been threatening Etta.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“She told Randy and m
e that Bryan came to her house demanding her help.”
“That happened two weeks ago,” Kate said.
“But now his behavior has become more radical. He’s been harassing Larry at the job site and has called Etta several times regarding his demands.”
“But Etta said Bryan had nothing to do with the break-in at her house.”
He came off the chair and moved to the center of the room. When he turned back toward Kate his face was flushed. “I’m sorry. I’ve heard nothing about this.”
Kate said, “Etta’s okay. Nothing has been released by the police.”
“But you know about it.”
“Detective Collingwood called me. He knew I wrote the articles about the crafts fair. Etta was upset and he hoped I could help.”
“Porter’s not a suspect?”
Kate shook her head and decided it was time for her to do a little fishing of her own. “I know Porter has a thing about Fortune Enterprises. He’s been in Larry’s face on more than one occasion.”
“His attacks have escalated to an intolerable level. He’s even tried to get past my receptionist and secretary to see me.”
“Good luck with that,” Kate said with a smile.
“Unfortunately for Larry, he’s accessible. He doesn’t have anything to do with Porter’s beef against the company.”
“What is his beef?”
Brighton stared intently into Kate’s eyes. She suspected he was considering the wisdom of revealing family secrets to a reporter so she threw him a little more bait.
“Etta told me it has to do with Bryan’s father.”
“Did she elaborate?”
“Only that Bryan was wrong about what happened and that she couldn’t help him.”
Kate decided against bringing up what Porter ranted toward her in the grocery store parking lot about the deal going sour between his father and Brighton. “Clearly something has bugged him for a long time,” she said. “I assume the success of your company and the relative failure of his own has intensified the grudge.”
“I’d say you’re correct. So much so that Larry has taken legal action to keep the lunatic off company property.”
“And that’s why you’re concerned about Etta?”
“I wanted to make sure she was not being harassed by Porter. I’ve spoken to her, but she says everything is okay. I wanted your take on the situation and I appreciate your input. I’m looking forward to seeing our story in the paper.”
“It will be in the weekend edition.”
“Let me know what I can do to help you. In exchange, I’ll ask you to keep me posted about my friend.”
Kate wasn’t sure what that meant exactly. But becoming an agent for Jack Brighton, no matter the cause, did not sound like a good idea. She walked back to her office, still mulling over the strange exchange. As usual, she was greeted by a note from Helen requesting a meeting. Her boss was on the phone, so Kate tapped the door jamb and waited for a motion to enter.
“You’re back,” Helen said, hanging up the phone. “How did it go with Brighton?”
“Rather interesting if somewhat unnerving,” Kate said. “He asked me about Etta. Specifically, if she’s been harassed by Bryan Porter.”
“Seems a bit bizarre he’d ask you, since they’re lifelong friends.”
“The topper is he wants me to keep him posted,” Kate said, using air quotes. “Another interesting tidbit ... Allen has apparently taken out a protection order against Porter who, according to Jack, has been escalating his attacks.”
“Better Porter than you, I suppose.”
“No doubt. Is that what you wanted, or do you have an extremely exciting new assignment for me?”
“Maybe more exciting than a crafts fair. I’m sure you’ve seen Barry’s photos of the recent fires by the lakefront. So far, we’ve run them with extensive captions.”
“You want me to see if we have a serial arsonist loose in Branson?”
“If that’s what the evidence shows, yes. In any case, three fires in the last two months are worth your time to investigate and do a comprehensive article.”
“Will do. By the way, I forwarded the Riverside Mercantile article to you. Brighton loved it. The next in the series, about the first country music group in Branson, is finished. The current members of the family are reviewing it.”
“Keep the articles coming. I’ve enjoyed getting accolades rather than complaints.”
“We are working on our people skills,” Kate said, turning to head back to her desk.
Before meeting with the Branson Fire Chief, Kate called Harold Wainright, who had—according to Marge’s list—been modest about his Chamber involvement. “I understand you’re on a chamber committee that is doing a nationwide survey for the Branson area.”
“That’s correct,” he said after a moment’s hesitation.
“I’d be interested in hearing about any responses you’ve received and how the committee plans to proceed with the project.”
Another pause. “Kate, your best bet would be to contact the chamber president.”
“Why? Is the committee’s activity a secret?”
“No, of course not. The truth is we don’t expect to see the survey analysis report for months. Beyond that, I’m not sure what the protocol is for releasing information. I’m sure the survey responses will be shared, but not by a phone call with a committee member.”
“I see your point. I guess coming from a big city, you aren’t familiar with how information is distributed in a small town. We may not use as much caution as we should.”
“Right,” he said, a slight chuckle in his voice.
“It seemed like it might be an interesting addition to my article about you. I’ve mentioned your chamber membership, but this committee sounds so proactive for the area. Folks should know you’ve become a contributing citizen of the community.”
“That’s nice, but—”
“I heard the survey was your idea,” she lied.
“I was part of a committee.”
“I’d want to make sure everyone involved gets credit.”
When he didn’t respond, she read the committee member names from the list on the survey to refresh his memory.
After a pause, he said, “I’m not sure who brought up a survey first. Your best bet is to contact the chamber for an official statement.”
Wainright’s hesitation to share harmless, public information triggered her cynicism, but she stopped pushing. “I’ll do that. By the way, your article will be faxed to you by the end of the week. Let me know, if you have any questions or comments.”
“I’ll give you a call when I’ve read it.”
“Thanks for your time today,” she said.
“No problem. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
Kate doubted that. Maybe it was a cultural difference, but he seemed unnecessarily tight-lipped about a business survey. She decided to have Helen approach the chamber president at the next meeting. Too bad her boss wasn’t on the survey committee.
BRANSON FIRE CHIEF Theodore Scherington—Theo to his friends and co-workers—was in his small office in City Hall. He ran his fingers through his graying hair and spoke to the computer monitor taking up much of his desk.
“When are you going to get a real office?” Kate said.
He greeted her with a hug then pulled back. “This is a real office, which, I might add, you don’t visit often enough. How’s old Roger doing?”
“Dad’s fine.”
“I bet he’s more than fine. Margie Connarde is a sweet lady.”
“Yeah. I was a little freaked out at first, but she’s been good for him.”
“I was a little jealous when I found out they were dating.”
“Like you don’t have the best wife ever?”
“You’re right. Forty years last July. But I’m guessing you want to talk about the recent fires by the lakefront not the love lives of two doddering old fools.”
“How’d you know?”
>
“A good investigative journalist can smell a story. Look, I’m not saying we found anything definite in our investigation. You could call it a gut feeling.”
“You mean the intuition of a man who’s been Chief of the Branson Fire Department for over twenty years?”
“That’s what I mean.”
“Can I get copies of the reports?”
“You bet. They’re public record, after all,” he said moving to the file cabinet.
As he copied the report pages and accompanying photos, he summarized each incident from damage to cause. When he offered to take her on a tour of the three houses, she jumped at the chance.
Each building was a small residential unit not far from the park at the north edge of the lakefront. The fires had been extinguished quickly. In one case, only the porch was burned. In another, a window and part of the roof were gone. They were all rentals, still unrepaired and standing vacant. The relatively minor damage nevertheless put each owner out of business at least temporarily.
“The Fire Marshall declared them all accidental,” Theo said. “And I couldn’t find any reason to disagree with his findings.”
“But you have your doubts,” Kate said.
“Somehow, it’s too neat, too easy. They are all separate with different owners, different circumstances, different causes, and definitely no proof of anything approaching arson.”
“Just a gut feeling,” Kate said before the two parted company. She hadn’t told Theo, but she recognized the three owners as individuals who were on Marge’s approached-to-sell list. That may mean something or nothing, but in her reporter’s opinion it was an unlikely coincidence.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tom and Sid waited as the duty watchman escorted Porter to the interrogation room not far from the jail holding cells, hoping the formality would convey the importance of the questioning. The detectives’ soft approach during the last few weeks had fallen on deaf ears.
Sid motioned toward a chair when the visitor arrived and closed the door.
Tom said, “Thanks for coming in.”
“Like I had a choice,” Porter whispered.