“Actually, we’re going to see if we can pick up something.”
“Cy, it’s not good to steal from a dead man.”
“I know. And I guess someone has already done that, the person who made him dead. We have a man waiting for us there, so we can look over the room and see if we find anything that might help us solve this case.”
“You go ahead and check, I’ll wait outside.”
“Maybe I’ll send you to my next-door neighbor’s house to see if she had anything to do with it.”
“Why? Were there claw marks on the body?”
“No, but it looks like someone’s saliva burned through his neck.”
“Then, I’d say it has to be your next-door neighbor.”
“Unless her twin sister is in town.”
We continued our nonsense until we arrived at the motel. We located Kincaid’s room and informed the officer on duty that he was free to go. I looked around the small room, hoping to find some sort of clue as to what might have gone on there. I found nothing out of the ordinary other than the fact that the victim was found one place and his keys another. Neither Lou nor I saw anything that didn’t belong there, or found anything missing. I picked up the victim’s keys, headed out the door, looking for his truck and trailer. All of the other vendors had headed home. There was only one truck and trailer. I figured that one had to belong to Kincaid. I had the keys. The vehicle had been dusted. I would soon find out if the truck and trailer in front of me belonged to the victim. On the way out the door I saw the maid, asked her if she was the one who had cleaned Kincaid’s room over the weekend. She said she was. I asked her the condition of the room. She consulted a pad where she had marked each room.
“Oh, I remember now. No one slept in that room last night, yet someone’s luggage was still there. It’s probably still there. We won’t do anything about it until after checkout time.”
We knew that Kincaid wouldn’t need his luggage any longer, so it had already gone downtown. I continued my questioning.
“What about Saturday night? Did anyone stay there Saturday night?”
“Oh, yeah. Somebody slept in the bed. And the shower and towels had been used, too.”
“Did you see them?”
“The person or the shower and towels?”
“The person.”
“Oh, no. They were gone before I started cleaning. I don’t start early, because a lot of guests sleep in on Sunday. But I’m there by 9:00 in case I can get started. No one came back while I was there in his room. I didn’t see nobody. I didn’t notice nothing there when I went in or out of the other rooms, either.”
“Could you tell how many people stayed in the room?”
“Only one. Only one pillow was used, the same with the towel.”
“And I assume you’ve already taken those and washed them.”
“Well, I didn’t wash them personally, but they’ve been washed. We have extras, but we try to keep on top of things. We don’t want unhappy guests.”
I thanked her and headed for Kincaid’s truck, puzzled by what I’d heard. We took a couple of minutes looking through the truck and trailer. It didn’t take long. It usually doesn’t when there’s nothing to see.
I motioned for Lou to walk back to Kincaid’s room with me. We walked in and shut the door. This time Lou got the drop on me.
“Well, what do you think, Cy?”
It always aggravates me when he asks me before I ask him. I already knew what was in my brain, or not in mine, but I didn’t know if anything was sloshing around in his.
“Well, Lou, we already knew that someone drove his truck here, but the fact that someone slept here, even took a shower here, throws me for a loop. I could probably narrow the field if I knew why this someone stayed here. If the sheriff down in Murray hadn’t told me that he saw Kincaid’s wife in Murray on Saturday, I might think she could’ve been the one. But a person can’t be in two places at once. Was it someone local doing this so we would place the blame on one of the vendors? Or did someone sleep here so we’d think he wasn’t murdered until sometime Sunday? If so, did they do this because they were at the fair on Saturday, but not on Sunday? Again, the only ones I can think of that fit that bill are local.”
“Could it be as simple as the murderer not having anywhere to stay and wanting to save money on a motel room?”
“I doubt it, but if so, that would make me think it was a vendor. I would think that most vendors would have had motels booked well ahead of time.”
With that thought in mind, I consulted my notes, picked up the motel phone and dialed Maureen Eidorn’s number. From the sound of her voice, it sounded like I woke her.
“Mrs. Eidorn, this is Lt. Dekker. Sorry to bother you, but I have a couple of questions for you. Do you know of any vendors who traveled here from a distance who didn’t have a place to stay when they arrived?”
“We’ve had that happen, but I don’t think there were any this year. If so, they didn’t ask me if I knew of a place. Most of them have been coming here for years and stay at the same place each year, and book their rooms well ahead of time.”
“One other thing. You said Vernon Pitts lives out in the country. Do you have any idea if I can find him at home during the day?”
“I doubt it. While he lives in the country, he’s not really a farmer. He works, and I’m not sure where, but you’d be better off trying to find him at night. But if I were you, I’d go before dark. I’ve heard his place is hard to find after dark.”
“What about Earl Clements and Wayne Edmonds?”
“Clements does odd jobs, so he’s home part of the time. Wayne Edmonds took early retirement, so he might be home.”
I thanked her and apologized for waking her. She told me I didn’t wake her, but I think I did.
+++
“So, what’s next, Cy?”
“We’ll walk up to the front desk, tell them that we’re releasing the room, and that we’ll let his wife know she can come and pick up his truck and trailer. Then, we’ll head to the jail and question Johnny Delmont. I’ve heard he’s there, but I’m not sure if he’s cooling his heels, or not.”
Lou laughed, told me he’d back me up. He didn’t say how far behind me he’d be.
My plans were to question Delmont, decide if we had any reason to hold him, then pick up something and take it to my place to eat. While we were there I planned to call the sheriff in Murray again, and see if I could get ahold of Delbert Cross, the vendor who was anxious to leave. I wondered if there really was a death in the family, or if Cross knew a little more than he should about another death.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lou and I arrived at the jail. When they brought Delmont in so I could question him, I wasn’t sure if a night in jail had cooled him off or not.
“Why are you treating me like a criminal?”
“Because you are one.”
“What did I do?”
“You left when you were told not to leave until we questioned you.”
“I waited a few minutes.”
“But not until we questioned you. If you had stayed, you could have been home by now.”
He slumped his shoulders, asked us what we wanted to know.
“What can you tell me about Tom Kincaid?”
“He’s a thief, and if he’s trying to say I did anything to his stuff, he’s a liar.”
“What did he steal?”
“My idea. Them puzzles was my idea.”
“Did he steal puzzles you made?”
“Ain’t made no puzzles. He beat me to it after I told him I was going to make some.”
“How long after you told him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was it as much as a year or two after you said something about making some?”
“You’ve been talking to some of them women who’s in love with him, ain’t you?”
“Which women are those?”
“That Arrington woman and what’s her name, uh, t
hat Weddington woman. Both of them would love to get their claws in Tom Kincaid. I don’t know why though.”
“Where did you stay Saturday night?”
“In my camper. Where else would I stay?”
“Spend any time at the Resting Place Motel?”
“Nope.”
“When’s the last time you saw Kincaid?”
“To talk to?”
“At all.”
“I don’t know. A week or two ago.”
“You didn’t see him this past weekend?”
“I might have. Didn’t go near him, though.”
“Who do you know who might have something against him?”
“Me.”
“Anyone else?”
“Anybody who’s got sense.”
“Know of anyone this weekend who’s had some trouble with Kincaid?”
“Why? Did somebody else come to his senses?”
“Just answer my question.”
“Nobody I know of. Why all these questions about that scoundrel, anyway?”
“Because someone murdered him at the Hilldale Art & Craft Fair.”
He looked at me like I was crazy, then burst out laughing.
“Well, it weren’t me, but I’m going to party now.”
“In jail?”
“You ain’t got no reason to hold me. I didn’t kill him. So, it happened at that motel, did it?”
“Why do you think that?”
“Well, you asked me if I been there. Maybe he was two-timing one of them women. One of them caught him with another one, when she thought she was the only one. Or maybe one of thems got a husband and he done it. Maybe my puzzle idea wasn’t the only thing he stole.”
“Any idea who it might have been?”
“Nope, but it wasn’t me, and you got no right to hold me.”
He was right. I had no more on him than I did anyone else, so I guessed it wasn’t fair to hold him when I wasn’t holding anyone else. I got up and Lou followed suit. I turned to leave.
“Hey, when you letting me go?”
“In due time, Mr. Delmont. In due time.”
I walked out and the guard returned Delmont to his cell. I talked to the man at the desk, asked him to let Delmont cool his heels for another hour, then release him. If Delmont was good about it, I told them to have someone take him back to his truck.
+++
“What do you think, Lou?”
“I think he’s ornery, but I’m not sure if he’s our murderer. To tell you the truth, I don’t see much difference in one of these guys and another. We might have trouble figuring out which one did it.”
“Yeah, but it could be someone who doesn’t seem much like a murderer.”
“I hope not. It’s always easier when it’s one of those ornery cusses.”
+++
Lou and I left the jail, stopped by Antonio’s and picked up a couple of sandwiches to take to my place and eat. I had stuff at the house to fix, but I was already too tired to do so. A little before 12:00 we arrived at my house to eat and make some phone calls.
+++
“Sheriff Offutt.”
“Sheriff, this is Lt. Dekker again. Did you have time yet to call on the bereaving widow?”
“I called on her. I’m not sure about how bereaved she is.”
“So, what did she have to say?”
“When I told her she asked me if it was his heart. Before I could answer, she said, ‘No, that couldn’t be it. He didn’t have one.’ Then she apologized. Said she guessed she was sorry he was dead, supposed she’d have to make funeral arrangements, asked me how he died, told me she didn’t want any of his puzzles, because he thought more of them than he did her.”
“What did you tell her when she asked you how he died?”
“I told her I didn’t know, told her that I received a phone call from someone in Hilldale telling me that he had died.”
“So, she doesn’t know he was murdered?”
“Not unless someone else told her.”
I gave him a number to call, where she could claim the body, thanked him for being of service, and he told me that was part of his job. I hung up and located my sheet and looked for Delbert Cross’s number. I dialed it, let it ring, no answer. Maybe he really did leave early to attend a funeral. Or maybe he was at work. Or maybe he was a fugitive from justice. I would try him again after I questioned some other people.
+++
“Well, Lou, we’ve got three locals to talk to. You up to questioning three more suspects today?”
“If I say no, does that mean that you’ll go without me?”
“Well, now that you mention it, it would be more fun if I took Heather Ambrose with me, especially that guy tonight who lives out in the country.”
“You forgetting that Jennifer’s still in town?”
“I guess I was. Come on, Lou, get your hat and let’s go.”
“I don’t wear a hat, Cy.”
“Maybe you should. It would cover up some of that ugly face.”
“I think you’re just jealous because of my finely chiseled body.”
“Come to think of it, it does look like someone’s taken a chisel to it. Your face, too.”
+++
Just as Lou and I walked out the door something hit me in the face. It was a leaf. The first falling leaf of fall. I wondered where the year had gone. Weather is unpredictable in early October in Kentucky, but then weather is unpredictable in Kentucky anytime. Daytime temperatures had been hovering in the low 70s, and the sun has been shining bright on my old Kentucky home, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before it started to get chilly and the winds would begin to howl. I hoped that Lou and I would solve the case before that happened, and I could hibernate with my books all winter long.
Before Lou and I could make it to Lightning a second leaf fell. Maybe they would all be gone by the time I got back home. Then again, maybe not.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I started the car, pulled out my list of suspects, tried to decide which one to question first. According to Maureen Eidorn, there were only two of the locals that I might find at home during the day. While both of those two lived in the same town I live in, neither one lived close to where I live. After giving it thirty seconds of thought, it made more sense to question Earl Clements first. After all, he wanted to plant his Empire State Building puzzle where someone planted it later, while Wayne Edmonds seemed happy with his purchase. Was it as simple as it seemed? Did Clements sneak back and do later what he threatened to do earlier? No, it’s never that simple. Edmonds had to be our man. Still, first I wanted to question the man who was all worked up, even though he might have calmed down a bit since Saturday.
+++
I looked at Clements’ address, 122 Lower Street. I knew where it was, not far from downtown. There wasn’t much going on downtown, so I made it through town, took a couple of turns, and ended up on Lower Street. I pulled up in front of Clements’ house. There was an older woman sitting on the porch next door, wearing a cardigan sweater. While I wasn’t ready for a sweater yet, some people are cold natured. Maybe she was one of them. Why I noticed what she was wearing I don’t know. I don’t usually notice things like that, unless I’m being paid to do so. As far as I knew, she wasn’t one of our suspects.
Lou and I got out of Lightning, walked up onto Clements’ porch, and knocked on the front door. We waited. He didn’t come to the front door. We walked around back, but he wasn’t in the yard. It looked like we might be questioning Edmonds first. We walked down the driveway toward Lightning. Just as I was about to open the car door, the woman spoke.
“You looking for Earl?”
My first thought was to reply, No, we were looking for you, but since we didn’t want to sneak up on you, we knocked on his door instead. That’s what I wanted to say, but instead, I was Mr. Nice Guy.
“That’s right. Do you know where he is or when he’ll be home?”
“Yes.”
I waited for her to
embellish. She didn’t.
“Which one?”
“Both.”
The woman was irritating me. I was starting to fiddle with my handcuffs and think up some charge for taking her in.
“Well, when will he be home?”
“Why do you want to know?”
No more Mr. Nice Guy. This time I responded with the first thing that came in my head.
“Because we’re the police, and he’s suspected of murdering women who sit on their front porches and irritate policemen.”
She laughed.
“I need to see some identification.”
“Lou, go show her.”
Lou walked up, handed her his I.D. She looked it over, studied it, and then said something to Lou.
“I don’t think this is you. This guy is fatter than you are. Did you steal this from your brother?”
This time Lou laughed. I didn’t want him to encourage her. I was tired of playing games with the woman, so I walked up, yanked out my I.D. and handed it to her.
“How’s this?”
She looked at it. She looked at me, thought about it, arrived at a decision.
“Yeah, this one’s probably you. You look almost as fat as the guy in the picture.”
“We’ve been exercising.”
“About time.”
I looked around to see if any other neighbors were watching and wished I had one of Kincaid’s puzzles.
“Just tell me. When do you expect him back?”
“A woman can’t be too careful these days. If you’re really a policeman, you’d know that. Are you sure you’re a policeman?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Somebody steal your real car.”
“That is my real car. Now, what time do you expect Earl Clements?”
“Now.”
“You mean he’s due back now?”
“I don’t know about due back, but that’s him coming down the street.”
I turned and looked, saw a man strolling down the street, carrying a tool box. If Clements was the murderer we were looking for, I thought about making him a deal. We wouldn’t arrest him until after he’d murdered his next-door neighbor. What is it with next-door neighbors? Does everyone have a bad one?
We left the porch sitter, and slowly walked across the driveway, timing our arrival with Clements’ arrival.
6 Murder at the Art & Craft Fair Page 12