“Mr. Clements.”
“Gentlemen. You need something fixed?”
“Not right now. Just need a few words with you.”
“If it wasn’t for one thing, I’d think the two of you were coppers.”
“And what’s that one thing, Mr. Clements?”
“Ain’t no copper gonna drive something like that roller skate sitting in front of my house.”
“I’m sorry to surprise you, Mr. Clements, but one does.”
“Department funds running low, or did you lose a bet?”
I wondered if the entire neighborhood was infected, but dismissed that thought quickly. I showed him my I.D. He didn’t say anything about whether or not it looked like me. At least that was an improvement over his next-door neighbor.
“Mr. Clements, may we go inside?”
“What’s this all about?”
“We’d rather talk privately.”
“Oh, all right! Let me find my key.”
He pulled out a key and opened the door. We stepped inside.
“Have a seat, Gentlemen. I see you’ve met Mrs. White.”
“Is that really her name?”
“It’s not an unusual name.”
“No, it would have been more unusual if it had been Miss Peacock.”
“Like in the board game Clue.”
“Like Mrs. White.”
“Oh, I see. Well, she is quite a character, but I’ve never thought of her as a murderer.”
I was trying to decide if I thought of him as a murderer. I needed to ask a few questions first.
“Well, Mr. Clements. What do you think of Tom Kincaid?”
“I’ve never bought any of his work, but I like it. It’s more than I can afford.”
“I thought you bought something of his on Saturday.”
“And where was I supposed to have done this?”
“At the Hilldale Art & Craft Fair.”
“Maybe you don’t understand, Lieutenant, but the only items people are allowed to sell there are ones the vendors make themselves.”
“I realize that, but Tom Kincaid was there, and I have witnesses who say you bought something from him.”
“You have witnesses who say I bought a painting or a print from Thomas Kinkade?”
“No, a puzzle.”
“Oh, I’ve seen those puzzles. Sorry, I don’t have time to work jigsaw puzzles. You’re welcome to check, if you like. I don’t need to see a warrant.”
“Is that why you tried to return it?”
“I beg your pardon.”
“I have witnesses who say that you bought a 3-D wooden puzzle of the Empire State Building and that you went back later, were violent, and tried to return it.”
“Oh, that guy. His name is Thomas Kinkade, too?”
“His name is Tom Kincaid. Now, are you willing to admit that you bought a puzzle from him, tried to return it, and acted like you were going to hit him over the head with it when he said he wouldn’t take it back? Remember, I have witnesses.”
“I did buy a puzzle from him on Saturday, thought better of it and went back to return it. I got mad when he told me he wouldn’t take it back. I didn’t try to hit him with it. Besides, I took it back yesterday. He reconsidered, and gave me my money back.”
“And this was yesterday? Sunday? And he gave you your money back?”
“That’s right.”
“How did you pay for it?”
“By check. I usually pay by check.”
“And he gave you your check back? Can you show me the check?”
“I tore it up.”
“What time yesterday did this happen?”
“It was early, not long after they opened. Maybe 11:00 something. I’m not sure.”
“I’m not sure, either, Mr. Clements, because Tom Kincaid was murdered Saturday night before he left the park.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not! Now, would you like to change your story, or are you ready to confess to murdering Tom Kincaid?”
“Okay, I guess I have no choice. I was upset when he wouldn’t take the statue back. I didn’t want the hideous thing, and he wasn’t reasonable. I did pay him by check, so I planned to stop payment on the check this morning, which I did. But I wasn’t willing to keep that statue, so I went back after everything was over. I planned to drop the thing in front of his tent, where he would find it yesterday morning, but he took his time leaving. Evidently he had a customer, the sides of his tent were down, but he was talking to someone inside.”
“Did they seem to be arguing?”
“No, just normal conversation. Nothing loud.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I noticed the woman next to him was standing in front of her tent, zipping it up. So, I walked up to her, told her I bought the statue from him, decided I didn’t want it, and was going to stop payment on the check.”
“How did she react?”
“First of all I startled her. She jumped as I called out to her, even though I whispered. Evidently she didn’t see or hear me coming. She motioned for me to move away from his tent, and followed me. She whispered to me that she didn’t want anything to do with returning it. I handed it to her anyway. And then I left.”
“And she took the Statue of Liberty you bought?”
“That’s right.”
“So, why didn’t you say that in the first place?”
“I didn’t want anyone to know I went back over there after dark.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I just didn’t. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that she murdered him. Remember, there was someone in the tent with him when I left. She might have tossed the statue down and left right after I did. I didn’t turn around to see. I just know that I left it there Saturday night, and I didn’t have anything to do with his murder.”
I didn’t know what to think. The man had lied to me, but was his entire speech a charade? Was he the murderer? Or did he hand the statue to Joan Arrington? Had she and Kincaid gotten into an argument, maybe over the fact that one of them wanted to do dinner together and the other one didn’t? Or did Joan Arrington take the statue from Clements, toss it down in front of Kincaid’s tent, and then something happened between Kincaid and the person I assumed to be Wayne Edmonds. It turned ugly and Edmonds picked up the statue and clobbered Kincaid over the head with it? I wasn’t sure if I believed Clements or not. He definitely seemed to have more of a motive for murder than either Joan Arrington or Wayne Edmonds. From everything I’d heard so far, neither Arrington nor Edmonds had even the slightest problem with Kincaid. But then sometimes those are the kind of people who commit murder. I wasn’t ready to arrest Clements, but he would remain high up my suspect list. I told him that was all for the time being, asked him not to leave town, and told him I would be in touch. Lou sensed that our interrogation was at an end, stood up and eased toward the door.
We walked out. I made the mistake of looking at the house next door.
“Goodbye, Mr. Policeman. I’m so glad I could be of service to you. I see you didn’t arrest Earl. Let me know if you want me to keep an eye on him.”
I was fuming all the way back to Lightning. I wanted to turn and ask her if she was related to Heloise Humphert.
I pulled away a little quicker than I should, and looked in the direction I shouldn’t. The busybody was shaking her finger at me and said something about my driving.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I drove up the street and pulled over to talk to Lou.
“Well, what do you think, Lou?”
“I think he’s our guy. He messed up when he told us that he took the statue back. If he’d kept his mouth shut I doubt if he’d look that much more likely to be our murderer than anyone else. Well, he would still be at the top, along with that guy we haven’t talked to yet.”
“But, Lou, if he hadn’t said something about returning the statue, I would have asked him if I could see it. I’m sure the murder
weapon has blood stains on it. He probably thought of that. That’s the reason he made up the story of taking it back.”
“But when he originally said what time he took it back, Kincaid was already dead.”
“Or off somewhere painting more pictures. I’ll check with Joan Arrington, see what she says.”
“She’s going to say she never saw the guy, never took the statue.”
“Well, she will if it’s not true, and she will if she murdered Kincaid. But what if she says she took it and then left? That will cast more suspicion on Wayne Edmonds, his last customer. At least he’s the last one we know about. I’m anxious to see if he adds anything to all this hoopla.”
“Cy, of course there’s a possibility that Clements gave her the statue to buy an alibi, then left and circled back after Joan and the customer left, and bashed Kincaid’s head in.”
“Lou, don’t complicate things. Let’s just go see Edmonds and see what he has to add to all of this.”
“When do you plan to call Joan Arrington?”
“After I talk to all the others. She might not be the only one I have to talk to again.”
“Cy, should we find out where Clements banks and stop by there to see if he stopped payment on that check like he said he did?”
“Would they tell us? And if they would, would it matter? Even if he did stop payment, that doesn’t mean he didn’t kill Kincaid. He might have murdered him, and then stopped payment on the check to make us think he didn’t know he was dead.”
“At least then we’d know if he lied to us twice.”
“You mean at least twice.”
+++
Before we pulled off I looked up Wayne Edmonds’ address again. 312 Cypress. I knew where that was too, just a few blocks away, but in a better neighborhood, for whatever that was worth.
I was thankful when I pulled up in front of Edmonds’ house. There was no one sitting on the front porch next door, and there was a car in the driveway. Evidently, Edmonds was home.
I knocked. A few seconds later, a tall, angular man with thinning gray hair came to the door. He looked to be somewhere around sixty-five, and in good enough shape to wield a wooden Statue of Liberty.
“Mr. Edmonds?”
“That’s right. And you are…?”
“I’m Lt. Dekker with the Hilldale Police Department, and this is Sgt. Murdock.”
“Please come in, gentlemen. Have a seat. How can I be of help to you?”
“Did you buy a puzzle on Saturday from Tom Kincaid?”
“I did, bought two of them as a matter of fact. Got there late. I was afraid I wasn’t going to make it, especially after I saw that some of the vendors had already left when I got there. See, I buy a couple of his wooden 3-D puzzles every year. They’re a challenge to put together, but that’s why I buy them. And he does such good work. They stay together well while you’re in the process of reworking them. Anyway, my daughter wanted me to come and see her Saturday. She lives out of town, but nearby. I tried to talk her into coming here, but she wanted me to come there, so she wouldn’t have to pack up the kids. She has three, you know. Anyway, I ended up staying longer than I thought I would, and almost didn’t get to Kincaid’s tent in time before he left. I hope I’ve answered your question.”
I thought he must have answered it, plus twelve more I didn’t ask. I wanted to move on. Otherwise, he’d pull out pictures of the grandkids, and maybe the family dog.
“Mr. Edmonds, how did you find Mr. Kincaid on Saturday?”
“Oh, I just grabbed one of those handouts they had, looked through it quickly and hustled across the park to his tent. Wouldn’t you know it? He was clear across the park from where I came in.”
“No, Mr. Edmonds, I mean how was he when you arrived? What was he doing, and what was his demeanor?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I misunderstood you. He was fine. As a matter of fact, I blew out a sigh of relief when I turned the corner and saw him there, at the next tent, helping some woman close up for the night.”
“And how did they seem to be getting along?”
“Oh, quite well. Just about the time I turned, she stumbled and he grabbed her. They sure took their time separating. As a matter of fact, this guy who picked up some things next to Kincaid’s tent had something to say to them as he walked by. I couldn’t hear what it was, but neither Tom Kincaid nor the woman seemed to be pleased with what the man had to say.”
“Was the man still there when you got to Kincaid’s tent?”
“No, he had walked on. I don’t know if he came back again, but if so, I didn’t see him.”
“What about the woman?”
“Well, when Kincaid saw me he turned away from her. She muttered something about she’d better finish putting her tent down and Kincaid stepped over to his tent. He’d already put his sides down, but he recognized me from before, and told me to come on in and take as long as I wanted.”
“And how long were you there?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, could have been a little longer.”
“And you and Kincaid parted on good terms?”
He gave me a funny look, like did I really ask that question, and then when he saw I was waiting for an answer, he gave me one.
“Of course. I was glad to buy more of his puzzles, and he was glad to sell them. He said he’d had a good day, except for a couple of bad eggs.”
“Did he comment on those bad eggs?”
“No, we just talked about the new puzzles he’d made this year, and then I told him why I was late.”
When Edmonds said that, I wondered if he really left after only twenty minutes.
“Mr. Edmonds, what puzzles did you buy from Kincaid?”
“I bought a Statue of Liberty and a pyramid. They looked so much like the real thing, only smaller.”
“Do you have them here?”
“Of course, where would I have them?”
“May I see them?”
“So, you’re interested in puzzles, too. They’re in here, Gentlemen. Follow me.”
We walked from the living room, through the dining room, and down a short hallway, that connected to the kitchen. We continued down that hallway, until after a “Watch your step!” from Edmonds, we stepped down into a sun room that looked out upon the back yard. There, in front of a couch, stood a large table, and on it was the Statue of Liberty. It didn’t look a thing like my Statue of Liberty. Edmonds had taken it apart and was in the process of rebuilding it.
“Here’s one of them. The other one’s still together over on the coffee table.”
I picked up the base he’d already put together. I noticed that he looked at me funny when I did that. “Just checking the foundation,” I said. I rifled through the pieces on the table. I didn’t want to appear too obvious, but I didn’t see a speck of blood anywhere. Of course, the crumbled pieces I saw in front of me might not have been the murder weapon. Still, that didn’t mean that Edmonds was innocent. And it’s possible he could have tossed the piece with blood on it.
“It’s amazing what a man can do, isn’t it, Mr. Edmonds?”
“It sure is. I’m patient enough to put these back together, but I’m not gifted in the area of creating one of these masterpieces. Imagine how difficult it must be to cut the interior pieces and get everything to fit together so tightly. That’s why I buy a couple of Tom Kincaid’s puzzles every year.”
I hadn’t thought of my new puzzles as masterpieces, but I was amazed at how the man made them so they fit together so easily, and stayed together no matter how many of the puzzle pieces had been connected.
“Shall we go back to the living room, Gentlemen? Or would you rather sit out here. And can I get you something to drink or nibble on?”
Lou and I told him the living room was fine, but we declined refreshments. I had a few more questions, but more people to see, so I didn’t want to waste any time. I waited until we were once again seated in the living room.
“Mr. Edm
onds, I assume it was dark when you left.”
“Getting that way. I must admit it was hard to keep my balance on the way to the car, carrying those two puzzles.”
“And when you left Kincaid’s tent, was the woman at the next tent still there?”
“If she was, I didn’t see her.”
“What about someone else?”
“Well, there was someone else.”
“Oh, and who was that, Mr. Edmonds?”
“I’m not sure. See, I was walking away, trying to keep my balance, when I saw a shadow move across the space behind me, hurrying to somewhere around Mr. Kincaid’s tent.”
“Really? Was it a man or a woman?”
“I don’t know. Like I said, I was walking in the other direction, and I had my hands full. I didn’t turn around.”
“Did you hear anything?”
“I think so, but see I was at least forty or fifty feet away before this person came out of hiding and ran toward Mr. Kincaid’s tent. At least I assume whoever it was was heading to his tent. Like I said, I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to lose my balance. But as I turned the corner, I thought I heard something. I’m not sure what, but conversation of some sort. It might have even been the beginning of an argument, but I can’t say that for sure. Like I said, I was uncomfortable carrying two puzzles.”
“When you walked away from Kincaid’s tent, did you by any chance see anything laying on the ground?”
“Like what?”
“Anything. A box. A magazine. One of Mr. Kincaid’s puzzles. Anything?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t anything there. Remember, I had my hands full. It was getting pretty dark. And I didn’t look down. I was concentrating on carrying my two puzzles.
“Say, what’s all this about, Lieutenant? Why all these questions about Mr. Kincaid and his puzzles?”
“Well, you see, it’s like this, Mr. Edmonds. Kincaid was murdered in his tent sometime Saturday night.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I wish I were.”
“Hit over the head with one of his puzzles, was he?”
“What made you say that?”
“Well, you keep talking about his puzzles, wanting to see mine. And you sure took your time looking at my Statue of Liberty. And God only knows that his puzzles are sturdy enough that you could hit someone over the head with one of them and it wouldn’t break apart.”
6 Murder at the Art & Craft Fair Page 13