6 Murder at the Art & Craft Fair

by Steve Demaree

  I didn’t want directions to either place. I merely wanted to know their proximity to each other and to Hilldale. I was about to tell her I didn’t need to hear the rest of her AAA routine, when she stopped and allowed me to continue.

  “So, I assume you stayed in a motel here?”

  “That’s right. Same one as Tom and Joan. A lot of the vendors stay there. They have good rates, give the vendors a discount each year.”

  “Did you see Kincaid’s truck and trailer there last night or this morning?”

  “No, but Joan said his room was near hers. Mine was on the other side of the motel.”

  “I think that’s it for now, Mrs. Weddington, but can I have your name and number in case we have any more questions?”

  “Lieutenant, you’re asking all these questions about Tom. Is something wrong?”

  “I’m afraid it is, Mrs. Weddington. We’ll get in touch if there’s anything else.”

  She reached in her purse, pulled out a card, handed it to me.

  “Here, Lieutenant. My number’s on there. So’s my e-mail address.”

  “Are you heading home tonight, Mrs. Weddington?”

  “I’m tired. But I think I’m going to do it anyway. I should get home around 11:00. This way I don’t have to worry about making the drive tomorrow. But then I guess it’s six of one, half a dozen of the other.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The distance from one booth to the booth facing it on the other side of the row was around thirty feet. For the last hour vendors had been driving up and loading their vehicles. Not only was there room for each vendor to load his or her vehicle, but the first one in wasn’t trapped until the last one in was ready to leave. There was plenty of room for someone to maneuver to get out. Also, when the fair was going on, all that space allowed anyone room to walk around someone. Lou and I stepped around a couple of vehicles on our way across the row to speak to Joan Arrington one more time.

  “Sorry to hold you up, Mrs. Arrington.”

  “So, it’s no longer Joan. Am I now a suspect for something, Lieutenant?”

  “Well, I did find out that you neglected to tell me that you had dinner with Tom Kincaid on Friday night.”

  “Is that a crime, Lieutenant?”

  “Not in and of itself.”

  “Well, I can assure you, Lieutenant, that dinner was all there was to it. I’m sometime known to say more than I should, but Friday night wasn’t one of those times. I don’t know Tom all that well, but we’ve talked a few times, and I found him quite pleasant company on Friday night. And, yes, I’m a lonesome widow. But I’m a smart one. I know Tom is married. Not happily, but married. If he wasn’t married, I would’ve accepted his invitation of dinner on Saturday night. But I told him the truth. I was tired, and I did grab a pizza and take it back to my room and eat it. I haven’t seen Tom since I left here last night and something tells me I’ll never see him again. Under different circumstances, I would have enjoyed getting to know Tom.”

  “So, what are your plans now?”

  “If I’m free to go, I’m on my way home. Unlike some of these people, I don’t have that far to travel. Danville is only a little over an hour and a half from Hilldale. I’ll probably drive back to Danville, stop some place to eat, then go home and get ready for my next show. It’s not as exciting of a life as I’d like, but my husband and I had some happy years together, and maybe someday I’ll meet another man who’s not married, and fall in love again. Until then, I’ll try to enjoy life as much as I can.”

  “Can I have your address and phone number, in case we have any more questions?”

  “Surely, Lieutenant, and I hope to see you back here next year, only as a buyer, not someone on the job.”

  “I hope so, too. We’ll see what happens.”

  She picked up a pad, wrote down her name, address, and phone number, tore it out, and handed it to me. I thanked her and told her I might be in touch.

  With that, I turned away from the empty space where Joan Arrington’s tents once stood, and walked over to where Frank was still hard at work. Joan Arrington, with no one or nothing else to detain her, walked to the parking lot to get in her vehicle and drive home. She had loaded her vehicle and then taken it back there to get it out of the way while she waited to see what else I wanted with her.

  +++

  “Frank, it’s Cy. You going to be a while longer.”

  “Yeah, you going on a food run?”

  “No, I’ve got one more guy to talk to, then Lou and I are out of here, but we’ll stop back and check in with you before we go.”

  “We’ll be here.”

  +++

  I turned around, looked at what was only a handful of vehicles still left on the grounds, and over at a couple of more still parked in the lot. The place had changed a lot from the thousands of people and ninety tents that occupied these grounds just a short while ago.

  “Okay, Lou, show me where this Delmont guy is.”

  No longer did we have to walk to the end of one row and up or down the next one, we cut through the row of trees that stood between one row and the next, and over to what was once considered the middle row of vendors.

  “It all looks different now, Cy. He’s somewhere around here.”

  I looked at one of the somewheres around where we stood and didn’t see anyone who resembled Johnny Delmont. It wasn’t that I knew what Delmont looked like. It was that I knew what humans look like, and I didn’t see a human being anywhere.

  “Could it be that Delmont was on the next row, Lou?”

  “I don’t think so, but let’s check it out.”

  We walked through another row of trees and once we slipped between them and looked up and down what was once the first row of vendors’ tents, we saw the same amount of human beings that we spotted on the previous row.

  “Let’s walk down to the Information booth, see if he’s waiting for us down there.”

  We had no trouble finding the Information booth. It was still where we had left it, and the same two women continued to sit in the same two chairs, waiting for the last vendors to leave.

  “Have either of you seen Johnny Delmont?”

  “He pulled out about fifteen or twenty minutes ago.”

  “You mean he left.”

  “Most people don’t spend the night here, Lieutenant.”

  “But most people wait if the police tell them not to leave.”

  “Oh.”

  I was mad. Either Delmont had something to hide or he thought he was above waiting around to be questioned by the police. Either way, I was going to make an example of him.

  “Do you have a description of his vehicle and his license number?”

  “We take that information down for all of our vendors. Let me find his sheet.”

  A couple of minutes later she handed me the sheet. I told her I would return it, but stepped away where I couldn’t be heard as I called the state police to stop and apprehend Johnny Delmont. I asked to have him brought back to Hilldale and held in the jail until I questioned him. We could hold him overnight, and I planned to do so. If I felt he was the murderer, I would hold him longer. Much longer.

  +++

  “Well, Cy, that didn’t take long.”

  “Frank, it usually takes me longer when the suspect hasn’t flown the coop. So, what can you tell me so far?”

  “You mean one of your suspects left?”

  “He did, even after Lou told him to wait.”

  “It sounds like you’ve got your man.”

  “Well, not yet, but the state guys are going to pick him up for me. I thought we might entertain him at the jail for a week or so. But enough about him. What do you know about the dead man?”

  “Well, Cy, the guy’s dead, and he’s not talking. I won’t know for sure until I’ve completed the autopsy, but I think that a blow to the head is what killed him. Unless he was hit to disguise how he really died. Actually, there were several blows to the head, but it appears that the one
I suspect was the first blow is what killed him. At least at this point I think it was sufficient to have killed him. Going on what I know now; body temperature, temperature inside the tent, lividity, rigor, etc., my guess is that he died here, and he died here sometime last night. Let’s say sometime between 6:00 and midnight. We haven’t found any evidence as to who did this, and we’re almost through here. As far as I know the murder weapon isn’t here. There are plenty of possibilities here, and most of them have plenty of prints on them, but none of them have the victim’s blood and hair on them, and I’m pretty sure the murder weapon will have. We’ll pack everything up soon and cart this guy off.”

  “Anything else yet, Frank?”

  “As a matter of fact there is. One of the most interesting aspects of this case so far is what we didn’t find.”

  “And what didn’t you find, other than the murder weapon?”

  “The guy didn’t have any money. Here he was selling his wares all weekend and he doesn’t have a penny on him.”

  “What about a cashbox? Did you find one of those?”

  “No.”

  “What about checks? Most vendors accept them. Did you find any checks?”

  “Not a one. I guess whoever did this took them, hoping we wouldn’t give robbery a second thought. And another thing, Cy, I assume our corpse stayed somewhere, unless he stayed in whatever it was he used to drive here. Usually that somewhere is a motel. He doesn’t have a key on him either, which means he also doesn’t even have a key to what he was driving.”

  “Well, I have a key to what he was driving.”

  “You mean you have the key. Why do you have the key, Cy?”

  “I don’t have the key. I have a key, which means I know what he was driving and where his vehicle is. At least I think so. Frank, he was staying at the Resting Place Motel and he’s booked there through tonight, which means no one else is in that room yet. We need to have someone go over his room, see if they can find anything. My guess is the maid has cleaned the room since he was last in it, but it never hurts to see if someone was there and left something behind that might give us a clue as to his or her identity. And since Kincaid wasn’t checking out until tomorrow, maybe he left the key there by mistake.”

  “And the money too?”

  “Whoever killed him robbed him. That is unless some brave and stupid person happened upon the dead man and stole his money, and while there are a lot of stupid people in the world my guess is the person who murdered him robbed him, too. Maybe we’ve gone about this all wrong. Maybe none of these altercations he had with someone this weekend has anything to do with his murder. Maybe the only motive is robbery, and the reason he was the one who was robbed was because he was the last vendor to leave Saturday night. Of course he didn’t leave, but everyone says he was still here when they left. Naturally, the murderer would say that, but no one else would have any reason to say they left before he did if it wasn’t true. Lou and I are without a car, since we came with our girlfriends. Do you want us to stop by the motel when they pick us up or will you arrange for someone to do it?”

  “We need to see that the room is gone over and dusted for prints, so I’ll arrange for someone to stop by there. And Cy, I’m glad you were able to get a date for Hilldale’s big event of the year. However, next year I’d recommend that you drive separately, just in case someone gets murdered and you have to go to work.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Lou and I bid Frank goodnight, and walked over to a bench to sit down and discuss what we’d learned. I looked at my watch. It was 6:23. We had a little daylight left. We’d talk for a while and then call Jennifer for a ride.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Before we do anything else, Lou, I want to do something. I might be tipping my hand, but I’m willing to take a chance. I’m going to call Joan Arrington to see if she knows whether or not Kincaid accepted checks, and if she knows of anyone in particular who gave him a check this weekend.”

  “You don’t think anyone would be dumb enough to cash those checks, do you, Cy?”

  “There are some pretty dumb people out there, Lou. It doesn’t hurt to check.”

  I dialed Joan Arrington’s number. She answered on the third ring.

  “Joan Arrington.”

  “Joan, this is Lt. Dekker. I thought of another question. Do you have any idea if Tom Kincaid accepted checks, and if he did, do you know anyone who might have given him a check this weekend? Maybe someone who also bought from you and gave you a check.”

  “Well, I know that his disgruntled customer gave me a check. I’m not sure whether or not he gave Tom one. If so, I wouldn’t put it past him to stop payment on it. Listen, Lieutenant, I’m on my way home. How about if I look through my checks when I get home tonight and you call me back in the morning? I’m not sure I can tell you anything for sure, but I’ll think about it on the way home and let you know in the morning.”

  I agreed to check back with her in the morning. While I’m not used to using a cell phone, I remembered to press the “End” button, and turned to Lou to mull over the case.

  “Well, Lou, what do you think?”

  “I don’t think you’re going to be dating much these next few days.”

  “You mean you don’t think we’re going to be able to beat a confession out of someone before the night is over?”

  “I don’t see anyone we can beat a confession out of, unless you count Frank, and I don’t think it would be admissible in court if we did.”

  “And the fact that Kincaid was robbed opens up an entirely different can of worms.”

  “I’ve found that regardless of what can they come from that all worms taste pretty bad.”

  “Personally, I’ve never felt compelled to taste them, but to each his own. But we need to look at this from the point of view of a fish or a bird, not you and me. If our can of worms helps us catch a fish or a bird, then it’s a good can of worms.”

  “Does that mean that we need to be early birds?”

  “No, just working birds.”

  “Well, my guess is he was bludgeoned to death with the candlestick, but do you think Colonel Mustard or Miss Scarlet did it?”

  “Right now, the Colonel Mustards and Professor Plums look guiltier than the Miss Scarlets.”

  “Don’t forget Mr. Green. Whatever, Cy! Let’s round up the usual suspects.”

  “I didn’t realize that we have any usual suspects.”

  “We don’t, but we already have enough suspects. The key is being able to eliminate some of them, and finding enough evidence to convict one of the remaining ones.”

  I thought about that for a minute, trying to get a grasp on who were our suspects. The obvious ones were Earl Clements, the guy who wanted to return his purchase, and Vernon Pitts, the guy who threatened Kincaid because of his kid. I wondered whether I should throw Delbert Cross into the mix. Did he pack up his tent and leave a day early because he murdered Kincaid? And did Johnny Delmont, who said that Kincaid stole his business idea, have enough of a motive for murder? And did the fact that Kincaid was robbed change anything? Clements might have felt he was due some money, because he wasn’t allowed to return his purchase. Of course if he was able to stop payment on his check, that would be one way of getting his money back. And Pitts might have stolen the money because he thought he was due damages because Kincaid grabbed his kid by the collar. And Cross might have rationalized that he had damaged goods, and recouped that money (and more). Anything is a motive if it causes someone to think irrationally. The lesser suspects, but ones I felt I needed to keep in mind were the two female vendors who seemed to like Kincaid, Joan Arrington and Lois Weddington. I couldn’t think of any reason why either of them would want to murder Kincaid, but there might be something I didn’t know about yet. I’d have to keep an open mind. The only other woman in this scenario, Kincaid’s wife, could well be a suspect, if we found out that she wasn’t six hours away in Murray, but had driven to Hilldale to check on her hu
sband. But once she had seen he was where he said he was, wouldn’t that have calmed her down? And what about the last person known to have seen Kincaid alive, his last customer, Wayne Edmonds? I guess I couldn’t discount the person who had the most opportunity. There didn’t appear to be anything out of order there. From what Joan Arrington had to say, there didn’t appear to be any animosity between them, but I needed to check him out, too. And was there anyone else I was missing? Another vendor? Another customer? Or the head of the event, Maureen Eidorn? Lou was right. We wouldn’t be doing a lot of dating the next few days.

  +++

  Lou knew me well enough to know he had the right to remain silent while I thought, and he had done so. Hopefully, he was thinking, too. Maybe he would come up with something.

  When the silent signal passed between us that both of us had had ample time to think this over, I turned to him.

  “Well, Lou, does anyone stand out any more to you than anyone else?”

  “I’d have to say Thelma Lou, Cy. She looks better to me than anyone else right now.”

  “What about suspects?”

  “No, I think she looks better than any of them, especially the guys. And I don’t think she’s a suspect. Remember, more than likely she was with us when this happened.”

  “I guess that clears the two of us, too.”

  “If our alibis are to be believed.”

  “What can you remember about those movies we saw last night, Lou?”

  “I remember these two lips close to mine.”

  “In other words, you don’t remember a thing about either movie. Okay, Lou, time to forget those two lips. Any idea on who might have done Kincaid in?”

  “I’m not sure anyone has enough of a motive. The guy with the kid seems the most mad, but I can’t see him killing Kincaid based on what we know.”

  “And that disgruntled customer is running neck and neck with him. Still, I can’t help thinking that there’s something we haven’t found out yet. Just not quite sure what that is.”