“You ain’t ever had a friend like me?”
“That’s for sure. You’re different, Lou. So, what’s the matter? Don’t tell me you wrecked Lightning?”
“Okay, I won’t tell you, Cy.”
“You mean you wrecked Lightning?”
“No. I’m a good driver.”
“Then what’s with this friend stuff?”
“Our clue of the day, Cy.”
“You’re my clue of the day?”
“No, our clue of the day is ‘You ain’t ever had a friend like me.’”
“You know. I’ve heard that before.”
“I know. I just said it.”
“No, I think it was in a movie. Maybe The Lion King.”
“Well, I know how you can find out, Cy.”
“Google, here I come!”
I went and Googled, and found out it was a song the genie sang in Aladdin.
“I wonder if this means we’re about to get three wishes.”
“Somehow, Cy, I doubt it. Got any other guesses?”
I thought about it.
“Well, Lou, we’re either to think of Aladdin, a genie, or the word friend. I wonder if this means that Kincaid was murdered by a friend.”
“If so, Cy, then it must have been one of those two women, either Joan Arrington or Lois Weddington. But why would a friend kill someone? Maybe we’re supposed to think of the word friend in some other context.”
“Like what?”
“Maybe God wants us to think about this a little bit. Otherwise He would have sent us an envelope with the murderer’s name in it.”
“Yeah, and enough evidence to convict him or her.”
“Cy, this sounds to me like it is something best tackled after we tackle the rest of the pecan pie and cheesecake.”
Lou was making progress. Or was he regressing? I thought back to just a few, short months ago. The new Lou would never had uttered the words “pecan pie” and “cheesecake.” The old Lou devoured such delicacies. I looked at him. He didn’t seem to be gaining his weight back. He must have his Wii in hyperdrive. Maybe I could get him to show me how I could do the same.
I got out some plates and glasses. We sat down, finished eating the rest of our stash, and savored every bite of it. I hoped our sugar intake would replenish every one of those leetle gray cells Poirot talks about.
+++
I leaned back in my recliner. Lou sprawled out on my couch. Both of us were sure that God wanted us to be comfortable while we thought about what He was trying to tell us. Neither Lou nor I could see that what God wanted us to see had anything to do with best friends. As far as we knew, Kincaid didn’t have a best friend. At least not one at the art and craft fair. And best friends are not usually the people who are most likely to murder you. I tried to think of friends in every context I could. I got nowhere fast. After a few more frustrating moments, I did what any red-blooded detective would do. No, I didn’t make a mad dash for the nearest donut emporium. I sprang up out of my recliner and plopped down in front of the computer. Again, I wondered how I ever solved any murder without Google.
I keyed in the word “friend.” In a matter of seconds, I was reminded of the TV show that everyone except Lou and I had watched all those years it was on. Me, I’d seen one episode, and that only recently, and that’s when I fell in love with Jennifer Aniston. Jennifer Aniston. The former love of my life. The second best looking Jennifer God ever created. I refocused my eyes and my mind on the computer. I needed to scroll down. I was definitely getting off track. The next few notations did nothing for me, but then I saw it. The new kind of friend. A friend on Facebook.
“Do you think this could be it?” I asked Lou.
Evidently, I asked him a little too loudly. My question woke him, and he stumbled to his feet to see what I had muttered.
“Do you think God meant for us to try Facebook?”
“Cy, if He hadn’t meant for us to use Facebook, he wouldn’t have invented Facebook.”
“Actually, I think he let someone else do that, and I don’t think every invention has been a good one.”
“But I don’t see anything wrong with Facebook, Cy, unless you overuse and abuse it.”
“But that’s not my question. Do you think that God wants us to use Facebook to solve this murder? Do you think today’s clue for the day has to do with Facebook?”
“If so, why didn’t God just say Facebook?”
“Because He wants us to do part of the work. Otherwise, every now and then He would just lean over from heaven and zap some of the bad guys into jail.”
We were getting nowhere fast. I told Lou to be quiet so I could mull over how Facebook could help us solve the case. He mumbled something and went back to lie down on the couch and be quiet. I think he was having withdrawal symptoms from Thelma Lou. Here she was in the same town we were in, and still it bothered him that we had to work on this case and he didn’t get to see her as much as he wanted. I tried not to think about how much I wanted to see Jennifer.
I sat there for a few minutes and contemplated our dilemma. Finally, I felt that I needed to go to my Facebook page to receive God’s message. As soon as I did, Lou popped up off the couch again, pulled up a chair, and was at my side. Maybe he wanted to help. Maybe he wanted to know if he was my only Facebook friend. At least that wasn’t as humiliating as having someone watch you weigh on the Wii. Or exercise on the Wii.
I keyed in Tom Kincaid’s name, went to his info, read his history, looked at his friends, and checked out his photos. I found nothing that told me he expected a particular person to murder him. He had few friends on Facebook, all of them seemed to be guys who lived where he did, and none of their names were familiar to me. I needed to move on. I needed fewer suspects, not more of them.
I looked up at the white board, still with all our suspects’ names intact. I started at the top, keyed in the name to see if he was on Facebook. He was. I clicked on his page to see what I could learn about him. His recent history included no confession of murder. I’d heard that some stupid criminals boast of their criminal activity on Facebook, or provide video evidence on YouTube.
I scrolled down and read each of his postings, found nothing incriminating. I clicked on suspect number two’s friends, read each of their names. No light came down from heaven and illuminated my computer screen, so I moved on his photos. There were only a few. Again, nothing enlightening. I decided to repeat the process and selected one of the women. It was as I expected. She had posted more often, had more friends, and had posted more photos than the guy I’d just studied, but I still found nothing that told me she was a murderer. I thought I was in the right place, but I wasn’t sure what information I was to use, or how I was to use it. I turned to Lou who already had his palms upraised. He was either praising God, or telling me not to shoot the messenger, just because he couldn’t figure it out, either. I thought of sending him back to the couch for another nap. Evidently, it takes pecan pie and cheesecake longer to work their way to the brain than I thought. And I’d always heard the words a sugar rush. In my case, the sugar wasn’t hurrying.
It was another thirty minutes before I thought of combining the clue of the day with what we needed to know. I didn’t expect anyone to admit on Facebook that they sold double the amount at the art and craft fair that they expected to sell. I doubted if anyone had admitted to robbery, so I didn’t expect to find out on Facebook who had doubled their take. Nor did I expect to find out who got stopped by a cop on Saturday night. Those are not the kinds of things you admit, especially if you were pulled over just after murdering someone. Well, some people had, but I was assuming my suspects were smarter. The only other thing I could think of was the difference of opinion between Earl Clements and Joan Arrington, as to whether or not Clements gave his statue to Arrington, so that she could return it to Kincaid. If one of them was lying, surely that one was the murderer, but was there any scenario where both of them could be telling the truth? If there was, I didn’t see it.
&nb
sp; I continued to think about the case using Facebook. And then it hit me. I wondered how many of my suspects were on Facebook. At least two of them were. And I wondered if Facebook would let me print their photos. I keyed in every name on my list. The only one who wasn’t on Facebook was probably the only one on my list who didn’t own a computer, Vernon Pitts. If he had one, his son would have driven nails into the monitor the day he hooked it up.
I didn’t know what to do next, so I did what I usually do when I’m electronically challenged. I called Larry, one of our computer experts downtown. In short time I was told that he could download any photos I was allowed to see, and then after downloading them, he could print them. I read Larry a list of everyone on my suspects list, and then added three more names to the list. I also told him to see if he could find a photo of Vernon Pitts. He told me that I could pick up the photos after lunch. Lou and I continued to look at all the information each of these people had put on Facebook, and see if anything gave us any ideas. After falling short again, I switched off the computer and Lou and I headed to lunch.
+++
“So, Cy, what if Clements identifies Joan Arrington’s picture as the woman he gave the statue to?”
“I’ve been thinking about just that, Lou. I think I’ll be able to tell whether or not he’s telling the truth. Of course, it’s quite possible that he remembers Joan from earlier Saturday. After all, he purchased something from her. I’m hoping that won’t influence him when he looks at her photo.”
Time would tell if my idea would help us grow closer to identifying and arresting the murderer.
Chapter Forty
Lou and I enjoyed a good lunch away from home, which means we ate more calories than we should have. We headed downtown to see if Larry had finished printing pictures for me.
“Look at these, Cy. All of them look good to you?”
“No, some of them look a little on the ugly side, but these should do the trick. I recognized all but one of them. That’s all I wanted.”
I went to the parking lot and separated the pictures into two groups, men and women. Then, I drove to Clements’ house, and God was with us. We found him at home.
“You’re back again. What do you want this time?”
“And it’s good to see you again, too, Mr. Clements. I just want to follow up on something. You said you gave the statue to the woman in the next tent. I talked to her, and she told me you didn’t give it to her. I just want to make sure we’re talking about the same person, so I brought you a photo. Is this the woman you gave the statue to?”
He took the picture, looked at it quickly, and handed it back.
“I think you’re trying to trick me, Lieutenant. This woman doesn’t look a thing like the woman I gave the statue to. I know it was getting dark, but this isn’t the woman.”
I took back the picture of Jennifer I had showed him. I was hoping that he would comment on how good looking she was, but he didn’t say anything. Maybe he knew that the woman in the picture was my main squeeze.
“Hold on a minute, Mr. Clements. I have pictures of other women who were there at the fair. Let me get them out of the car and you can look at them and tell me if it was any of these women you gave the statue to.”
I could tell I wasn’t the best thing that had happened to him all day, but he had no recourse but to wait while I returned to the car and gathered up more photos. I picked up the stack of women’s pictures, straightened them, and hurried back to Clements.
“Take your time, Mr. Clements. I want you to look at each of these pictures carefully, and tell me if it was any of these women to whom you gave the statue.”
“You might as well come in. We might as well be comfortable.”
I really didn’t think he cared whether or not Lou and I were comfortable, but he wanted to sit down if he had to look at that many photos.
As I instructed, he took his time, looked at each picture carefully, and then returned them.
“Sorry, but it wasn’t any of these women. But I did give it to a woman. It just wasn’t any of these. Come to think of it, I think I’ve seen her before somewhere, which means it’s probably someone local. It might even be someone you know.”
“Why don’t you describe her to me?”
Clements gave me a description of the woman. I listened intently. Lou did the same. At first nothing registered, but when I looked down to the top photo on the stack Clements had handed back to me, it hit me.
“Mr. Clements, I have an idea who it might have been. Can I use your phone?”
He handed me his cell phone, saw I was confused, so he showed me how to use it. I stepped out on the front porch and made a call. In a few seconds I had the name and address I sought. I stepped back inside the house and asked Clements if I could use his computer.
In a couple of minutes I had arrived at Facebook. Luck was with me. Cara “Rusty” Parsons, the redhead who was seated behind Maureen Eidorn in the information booth when I was there, had a Facebook page. I called Clements over, and he identified her as the woman to whom he had given the Empire State Building puzzle. I thanked Clements for his help, and Lou and I left.
I couldn’t figure out what motive the woman could have for murdering Kincaid, but, because I had few leads, and Clements had identified her as the woman to whom he had handed the possible murder weapon, we were off to question her. It was a ten minute drive. I pulled up in front the address Maureen Eidorn had given me, and the two of us got out of the car, walked up to the house. I knocked. A few seconds later, a woman I now knew as Cara Parsons, nicknamed Rusty, I assume because of her red hair, answered my knock. I could tell she recognized us, but couldn’t figure out where she had met us.
“Mrs. Parsons, I’m Lt. Dekker with the Hilldale Police Department, you were with Mrs. Eidorn the other day when I talked with her.”
“Sure. I was trying to figure out who you were. I’m kind of busy now. Is this important?”
“If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here. I’ve just received information that someone handed you a puzzle the other night that might have been the implement that was used to murder Tom Kincaid.”
I could tell that my declaration startled her.
“I was afraid that might be the case.”
“So, someone did hand the Empire State Building puzzle to you?”
“That’s right.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Well, it was Saturday night. Maureen asked me if I would go look and see how many of the vendors were still there. I walked up one row and down the next. Tom Kincaid was one of the few vendors still there. Might have been the only one. I’m not sure. Anyway, I heard someone walk up behind me. It startled me, so I fiddled with the zipper on the tent next to Tom Kincaid’s tent. It was a stupid thing to do, but Tom had someone in his tent with him, and I was trying to listen for a few minutes to see if I could tell how much longer he would be there. Anyway, this man startled me. I think he mistook me for the woman set up next to Tom Kincaid. Anyway, he told me he wanted to return the puzzle, that he was going to stop payment on his check, and he wanted me to give it back to Kincaid. I tried to refuse, but he was insistent. He thrust it into my arms, and I took it to keep it from falling to the ground. He rushed off as soon as I relieved him of the puzzle. I stood there a moment, pondering what to do. I heard a sound, someone moving about, and it wasn’t someone in Tom Kincaid’s tent. It was getting darker by the minute, and I was uncomfortable and scared, so I set the puzzle down on the ground between the two tents and ran off. That’s all I can tell you. I didn’t see the person, but I know there was someone there other than Tom Kincaid and the man who was in the tent with him.”
“Could you tell if the third person was a man or a woman?”
“I have no idea. I didn’t see them. And I didn’t want to hang around to find out.”
“What about the man with Kincaid? You said you overheard their conversation. Were they arguing?”
“No, nothing like that. And I
couldn’t make out what they were saying. It just seemed like a normal conversation.”
“Did you see anyone on your way back to the information booth?”
“No, but I was running, and not paying a lot of attention. I just wanted to get there quickly.”
“And what did Mrs. Eidorn say when you got back?”
“She wasn’t there. She got back around ten minutes later. When she got back, she said she must have just missed me. She wasn’t sure how long I was going to be gone and she needed to use the facilities before it got too dark.”
“Did you tell her about what happened to you?”
“No. I kept it to myself.”
“You didn’t tell her about the statue or the second person who scared you?”
“No, I just wanted to forget all about it.”
“Is it possible that the man who gave you the puzzle could have doubled back?”
“I guess it’s possible, but why would he have done that?”
I didn’t have an answer other than the obvious one, so I didn’t give her one. Instead, I asked her another question.
“I see you’re wearing perfume today. Think back to the night of the murder. The hidden person. Did you smell anything like a woman’s perfume or a man’s after shave?”
“Nothing. Like I said, Lieutenant, I don’t know if it was a man or a woman. I just assumed it was a man, but I guess it could have been a woman, and I can’t say that whoever it was picked up that puzzle and murdered Mr. Kincaid. Of course I didn’t know that he’d been murdered until you told us, and it was Monday before I began to wonder if someone had used that puzzle to murder him.”
I didn’t see where further questions were going to help me find the murderer, so I thanked Mrs. Parsons and Lou and I turned to leave. Once we were back inside Lightning, I turned to Lou.
“Well, Lou, what do you think?”
“I don’t know what to think, Cy. I guess we have to add her to our suspect list, Maureen Eidorn, too, but I’m leaning toward one of the men as the murderer.”
“Anyone in particular?”
“Not really. What if we throw a dart at a dartboard and pick our murderer that way?”
6 Murder at the Art & Craft Fair Page 22