6 Murder at the Art & Craft Fair

by Steve Demaree

  Our first stop was at Burke’s Bakery, right on Main Street, which according to Thelma Lou, has been around for several decades. Before we went in, we decided to get less than half of what we wanted. That way we could keep the cost of our purchases below one hundred dollars. We walked in, studied the cases, and huddled together. We all agreed that we’d get a brownie loaded with nuts to snack on right then and three different kinds of cookies to nibble on in the car, all of which looked like something I could eat by the dozen in one sitting. Plus, we thought a pecan pie would travel and hold up well until we got home. We were proud of ourselves for being so conservative, but a few nibbles told us that we needed to make a return trip to Danville.

  We took our purchases to the car, then walked to the corner, and up a couple of blocks until we came to Church Street. We turned left and soon arrived at The Twisted Sifter. The name scored extra points with me. I hoped what they had to sell was just as good as the name.

  I walked in and lost it. Cakes. Pies. Cheesecake. I looked at all the choices of cupcakes they had. There must have been one hundred; chocolate Bavarian cream, chocolate caramel, red velvet, apple spice, chocolate peanut butter banana, pink lemonade, sour watermelon, spiced rum raisin, pineapple upside down, peach cobbler, honey cinnamon, chocolate bourbon-Maker’s Mark, and caramel banana were just a few of them. My eyes were worn out. I’d gained three pounds just looking. Again we huddled. We decided to buy two cupcakes, and eat them then, to see how good they were. That was a bad idea. Once we nibbled, we realized that we weren’t getting out of there empty handed. We huddled again, wondered how many cupcakes we could eat before they got stale, if we ate cupcakes for all three meals. Then, we realized that wasn’t a good idea, so we settled for a dozen. We also found a turtle cheesecake with our names on it. The Twisted Sifter found a lot of our money with their name on it. But everyone seemed happy with the trade. Well, my Wii Fit board wouldn’t be too happy, but it would have to get over it.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  We emerged from The Twisted Sifter and walked a couple of blocks back to Constitution Square State Park. Maybe our short jaunt, fully loaded down with goodies, would offset what we had consumed from those two great bakeries. We took our purchases and walked over and took seats on a couple of the benches. We sat, nibbled, and tried our best to get most of the cupcakes in our mouths. Icing has a habit of wanting to take up residence on the outside of the mouth, and cake crumbs want to dribble down the front of whatever it is you are wearing.

  We took a few minutes to enjoy the autumn breeze, and the colorful trees that adorned the park. I had no idea what Constitution Square State Park was, or why there was a state park downtown, but from the look of the buildings we saw scattered here and there, I figured whatever led to it becoming a park happened a long time ago. Maybe it could have something to do with one of the Constitutions I studied in school, the document or the ship, or maybe it has something to do with Kentucky that I didn’t have to study, or that I forgot. I felt that if I got bored, or needed exercise after I polished off my share of the cupcakes, I could wander over and read a plaque. Every park of this type has a plaque. I just had to find it.

  Twelve bites past enough, we called a truce, and saved the rest of the cupcakes, the cheesecake, and all that we had purchased at Burke’s and had yet to eat, in case we had to spend the night in a four-holer outhouse. Lou and I had the girls check us out for cake crumbs on our shirts and icing on our lips. We were about to question someone in regard to our murder case and we wanted to look our best when we did. Because we had work to do, I refrained from finding and memorizing anything stated on a plaque, and took the next step to finding Joan Arrington.

  I had Googled Joan Arrington’s address, and printed the map, so we didn’t waste any time trying to find her street. I was thinking she didn’t work except for making crafts, so I figured we could find her home. Our luck was improving. The house was in town. I saw no nosy neighbor on the porch next door, and saw no little boy with a hammer and nails. And I saw a minivan in Joan Arrington’s driveway. Lou drove two doors past her house and parked. Joan Arrington had seemed nice, but I wasn’t sure how she would react if two couples showed up at her front door, or if she looked out and spotted two women in Lou’s car. Besides, it wouldn’t have looked all that professional. But then I forgot to realize at the time that most people would be uncomfortable if two men knocked on their door. Even one stranger knocking makes most people uneasy. Two strangers usually mean someone stopping by to invite you to a church you don’t want to go to or to convert you to their religion. Or it could be one door-to-door salesman training another. One stranger, almost always means a young salesman who, more than likely, will be off to another job or another town next week. At least our chances were good that Joan Arrington would remember who we were. I’ve been told I make a lasting impression.

  Lou and I got out of the car, told the girls we didn’t know how long we’d be gone, and told them to come running if they needed a policeman. Then, we walked over to Joan Arrington’s house and I rang the bell. I felt relief when I heard footsteps walking toward the door. Joan Arrington opened the door, took a minute, and then recognized us.

  “You’re those two policemen from Hilldale. What in the world are you doing here?”

  “Well, we had to come to Danville anyway on other business, and we had a couple more questions for you, so we decided to stop by.”

  “Well, come in. This is a surprise. So, what can I help you with?”

  “Mrs. Arrington, when we talked to you before, I think there were a couple of things you forgot to tell us.”

  The smile that had been plastered on her face left in a hurry.

  “Like what?”

  “We’ve had two or three witnesses tell us that you and Mr. Kincaid were kind of cozy Saturday night.”

  “We were not.”

  “Are you saying he didn’t touch you?”

  “No, he didn’t touch me.”

  “Not even when you stumbled when you were on the ladder?”

  “Oh, I forgot that. He merely grabbed me to keep me from falling. It wasn’t anything romantic. Besides, I thought I already told you that. The guy’s married for Pete’s sake.”

  “At first you forgot to tell me that the two of you had dinner together Friday night, and then you didn’t tell me that he was seen holding you Saturday night.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it holding me. He kept me from falling. It wasn’t like a hug or an embrace of some kind. Don’t tell me somebody complained because he caught me when I fell.”

  “Not to me they didn’t. One other thing, Mrs. Arrington. You also didn’t tell me that before you left Saturday night that Earl Clements stopped by your tent and gave you the Statue of Liberty he bought from Kincaid, and asked you to return it to Kincaid, and to tell him that he was stopping payment on the check he gave him.”

  “What? Maybe the reason I never told you that is because it never happened.”

  “Clements said he gave it to the woman whose tent was next to Kincaid’s, that he gave it to her as she was zipping her tent getting ready to leave.”

  “Well, if he told you that he’s either lying, or he’s mistaken.”

  “I have no idea if he was lying, but I doubt if he was mistaken. No other woman would be zipping your tent. At least I don’t think one would. Do you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “You didn’t find anything missing from your tent Sunday morning, did you?’

  “No. Was there something missing from someone else’s tent?”

  “No, but we haven’t any report that someone was standing next to anyone else’s tent. Did you see Clements Saturday night, about the time you were getting ready to leave?”

  “Not that I recall. I told you about that other man, the man who came to buy some puzzles from Tom. Best I can remember, he was the only person I saw just before I left, and he was still with Tom when I left.”

  “Clements knew about t
hat man, too, so Clements had to have been there. Do you have any idea why he would say he gave the statue to you?”

  “Of course not. Well, not unless he’s the one who killed Tom, and he’s trying to place the blame on someone else. Or I was the most likely person he could think of to say he gave the puzzle to. Maybe he saw me with Tom and felt I was as good of a person to blame as anyone. I have no idea whether he was there or not. All I know is that neither he nor anyone else gave me anything to give Tom.”

  “I don’t guess you would have happened to find one of Kincaid’s Statues of Liberty on the ground shortly before you left.”

  “Of course not. If that guy you are talking about was really there on Saturday night, he probably came after I left. Of course there were still a few people in the park when I left, but I can’t tell you who, other than Tom and the guy who came to buy some puzzles. The others were merely shadows in the distance. I didn’t pay any attention to any of them except to know that we weren’t the last people to leave the park. As for whether they were male or female, I have no idea. The only ones I saw close enough to identify was Tom’s late customer and the guy set up on the other side of Tom.”

  “Speaking of the guy next to Kincaid, did you see or hear him pull off?”

  “No. Really it’s a blur as to whether he left first or I did. I know he went by one time when Tom was helping me with my tent, but I can’t remember if he came back again as I was leaving, or not. I thought he did, but maybe he didn’t.”

  As far as the returned puzzle was concerned, there was nothing I could do. It was one person’s word against another. I couldn’t see Joan Arrington killing a man she was falling for, even if she wouldn’t admit that she was interested in him. I knew that at least part of what Clements said was true. But why would he admit to being there, if he was the murderer, and why would he make up a story about Joan Arrington if he wasn’t the murderer? Like each of the people I’d questioned earlier, there wasn’t enough evidence to arrest Joan Arrington, and I couldn’t think of any other questions to ask her, so it was time to end our abbreviated conversation.

  “Well, I guess that covers it for now. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Arrington.”

  “I’m sorry you had to come all this way for nothing.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t for nothing. Like I said before. We had other business in Danville. I’ll let you know if I think of anything else you can help me with.”

  “I can’t imagine anything else I can do to help you. I think you’re better off looking somewhere else.”

  “Maybe you’re right, Miss Arrington. Maybe you’re right.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  I looked at my watch on the way back to the car. It was 2:47. Still early. We got to the girls and conferred with them to see how they wanted to spend the rest of the day. They said if we weren’t in any hurry they would like to stop and have dinner in Lexington, since Lexington had many more choices than any other town we would go through. Lou and I said it was fine with us.

  On the way back to Lexington on a road that the locals had told us had been under repair for quite some time, we found a store that sold all kinds of handcrafted items. Since none of us had bought a handcrafted item since Sunday, we felt we needed to stop in and peruse the aisles. There was a lot to see, so we were there almost an hour, which I’m sure was longer than most people spend there.

  When we left that store we knew we had approximately forty-five minutes to come up with a place for dinner. Lou and I deferred to the girls. They chose our restaurant in a way quite different from the way Lou or I would have chosen. They took out their phones, touched different places on the screen, and connected to places I wouldn’t know how to connect to, unless I was on my computer. When Jennifer saw that Lexington had a Carrabba’s she told us that she had one near where she lived and she loved their food. The fact that both Sutton’s and Carrabba’s were Italian restaurants did nothing to defuse Jennifer’s suggestion. While Sutton’s is an Italian restaurant, I was the only one of the four of us who ordered anything Italian for lunch, and I can eat Italian several days in a row.

  Carrabba’s is in a shopping district the locals know as Hamburg. Some people who live in Lexington tell me that Hamburg is the German word for confusion. They say if you can find something in Hamburg, it means you are lucky, the place you are looking for can be seen from the street, or you have stumbled upon this place before. Carrabba’s fits description number two. It can easily be seen from Man O War, if you are brave enough to take your eyes off your texting and/or the traffic that is surrounding you. And believe me, if you are around Hamburg at some time other than when wolves are howling and vampires are prowling, there will be traffic around you. The trade off, according to the locals, is that most places in Hamburg are worth going to. Hamburg has more restaurants than most towns in Kentucky, and according to those who have been there, Carrabba’s is at or near the top of that list.

  Most restaurants have the same appetizers. Maybe the look of the onion, potato, or nachos varies slightly from one restaurant to another, but it’s basically the same thing. It was refreshing to find a restaurant like Sutton’s that gave us a unique appetizer in pepperoni pups at lunch, and once we arrived at Carrabba’s and had a chance to check out their menu, we found some unique possibilities there, too. We decided to split two appetizers. I suggested that one of them be zucchini fritte. No one had a problem with that, and once the slices of zucchini arrived, everyone complimented me on my choice. The dipping sauce was worthy of sucking through a straw and ordering more, and although I might have considered doing something like that at one time, I figured I had been refined, and refrained from doing so. Even if I haven’t been refined, I would have done my best to improve my manners with the girls with us. The menu called the sauce for the zucchini roasted garlic aioli. I had no idea what that was. I know what garlic is. It’s something that is supposed to be good for you unless your objective is to kiss someone who hasn’t partaken of any garlic. While I hoped for a few kisses, the person I planned to kiss had partaken of said garlic. At any rate, whatever the aioli was, it was good. And it was a word that would make Pat Sajak and Vanna White proud. No other word with so few letters contains more vowels that can be bought.

  For our other venture into the pre-entrée course, we ordered a grilled chicken pizza. It had an Italian sweet and sour sauce, pine nuts, scallions, and Romano, fontina, and mozzarella cheeses. The pine nuts reminded me of Euell Theophilus Gibbons, although his choice of tree nuts was wild hickory, and the scallions, reminded me of rapscallions, which I assume are a little different. I wasn’t smart enough to tell one cheese from another, but I liked the blend. So did the others.

  We each ordered a different entrée. My choice was Spiedino Di Mare, which for all you non-Italians was shrimp and scallops coated in bread crumbs, grilled, and topped with lemon butter sauce. It came with a salad with dressing you can’t see through, and for my side I chose Tag Pic Pac. That’s a fancy way of saying really good spaghetti with tomatoes and those other things that make it taste good. Jennifer ordered Mezzaluna, which is half-moon ravioli with chicken, ricotta, and spinach, in a tomato cream sauce. Lou chose Lobster Ravioli, and Thelma Lou selected an Italian favorite of many people I know, Chicken Marsala. Like so many of their dishes, we were stuffed before we got to the dolci (dessert). We waited a few minutes before we paid the bill and waddled out the door. Boy, was my Wii going to be upset with me.

  +++

  As Lou drove back to Hilldale, I couldn’t help but think of how different our last few days had been because the girls were with us. If Jennifer hadn’t come to town I would never have ventured to the Hilldale Art & Craft Fair, and wouldn’t have added a few new Kentucky authors to my reading list. Well, I would have, but only after someone discovered Kincaid’s body. Who knows? Maybe no one would have gone inside of his tent before the event ended if I hadn’t done so. And I don’t want to think of what my life has been like after I questioned those first few suspects
in town. Even if I discounted the fact of who knows how we would have gotten back to town if the girls hadn’t reported us missing, our trips to West Liberty and Danville would have been much different without the girls. Instead, we would have taken a couple of months to recover from out trek out into the country during which time Lightning would have rusted from neglect. Then, we would have hopped over to West Liberty and back in the same day, without a stay at the Days Inn. The next day, we would have made the longer trip to Danville, but minus our stops at Sutton’s, Burke’s, The Twisted Sifter, and Carrabba’s. More than likely we would have pulled through a drive-thru at lunch, and eaten dinner alone when we returned home. Sometimes we forget how much better our world is when we have females in our lives. But we don’t forget for long. At least, I don’t.

  Thelma Lou interrupted my daydreaming with a comment and question from the front seat.

  “You know that Jennifer is leaving in the morning. Do you have time to come over here for breakfast and to see her off? We’ve got all these goodies we bought. None of us are in any shape to finish them off tonight. What do you think of a sugar rush tomorrow morning?”

  I spoke before Lou could.

  “Jennifer can give me some sugar any time she wants.”

  She laughed and took the hint. Lou gave me a look that said, “Cy, next time you can drive,” and then refocused his eyes on the road.

  It was well after dark when we arrived at Thelma Lou’s. To be almost exact, it was a little before 9:30 when we touched down accompanied by fond memories of our day. It was a great day, but I wasn’t sure we were any closer to apprehending a murderer. Thelma Lou asked us what time we wanted to reconvene for our bon voyage party, and Lou and I, at the same time, said, “Noon.” Cooler heads prevailed, and we agreed to show up at 10:00. We would sleep in. Maybe I would catch a murderer in my sleep.