“What do we have,” Sherry corrected. “On the positive side, the rumor mill was grinding at every stop, but only about the murder in general. No one saw Elsman driving her Hummer the night she was killed, and the neighbors we ran into were in bed during the time she was killed.”
“They saw the Hummer rumble through town day and night,” Aster added, “but never saw anyone with her except Trudy.”
“And those sightings were during the day,” Maise supplied. “No one reported a passenger when they saw the car at night.”
“I do believe that would be due to the tinted windows,” Eleanor said.
“You’re right. So you didn’t get any real leads?”
“No, but what about your missions?” Sherry asked. “Did you talk with Patricia?”
“She confirmed that Elsman paid her to falsify the property tax records.”
“You came right out and asked?” Aster looked as appalled as Sherry.
“We sort of stumbled onto the subject. I saw Pauletta at the business center, and Mrs. Hardy. That woman is a piece of work.”
“What did she say to get your back up?” Eleanor asked.
“That Sherry was tacky for having a cemetery in the backyard, and that the graves should be moved.”
Maise grinned. “And you said?”
They each leaned in toward me.
“That we should rededicate the cemetery and make a party of it.”
They each leaned back, shot glances at each other.
“That’s quite a good idea,” Eleanor said slowly.
“I was planning to smudge the cemetery anyway.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You know, burn cleansing herbs to get rid of the dark energy. I couldn’t do it with the detective there.”
“The anniversary of the Stanton’s coming to Lilyvale is in June,” Sherry mused. “Is that a long enough time from the murder to be respectful?”
“Of a woman who didn’t respect others?” Maise scoffed. “More than enough, but is it something you really want to do, Sherry Mae? Didn’t you have something else planned in June? In Texarkana?”
Sherry blinked at Maise. “That little jaunt? I can work around it. Nixy, do you think you could come back if we plan this?”
“Uh, sure,” I answered, but wondered what that byplay between Maise and Sherry was about. I filed that away and got us back to the point. “But let’s make sure you stay out of jail first. I talked to Kate Byrd, too. She said Elsman tried to manipulate her and the other council members, but they blew her off. So I got a little information, but nothing really new.”
Sherry patted my hand. “It’s too bad we didn’t get a solid lead, but that’s the way the croissant crumbles. Now, I wonder where Lorna got off to. She said she’d join us, but she’s taking an awfully long time.”
“Do you need her for something special?”
“We need to pay the tab,” Sherry said, and reached for her purse.
“I’ll go find her. I need to use the restroom anyway.”
I went through the opening in the bar to peer in the window set in the swinging door that led to the kitchen. I didn’t want to smack the door into Lorna, but no one stood on the other side. I pushed the door open and stepped just inside.
“Lorna?”
Voices came from farther back in the room, behind a door that was cracked just enough for me to catch the strident tones. First I heard the word “money,” and then part of a phrase—“what you . . . mutter mumble . . . with that woman.” Did I dare tiptoe closer to eavesdrop? In the next moment, something slammed, and I flat chickened out.
“Lorna,” I called, louder than I had the first time. Much louder.
The far door flew all the way open. Lorna’s haunted gaze found mine, and she frowned at me. “Nixy? What do you need?”
“Sorry to bother you,” I said, forcing a nonchalant smile, “but Sherry is ready for the check.”
Her expression smoothed. “I’ll be right out.”
I went back to the tiny hall between the kitchen and interior staircase and on to the restroom. When I exited, Lorna was near the front door chatting with the ladies, and Clark vigorously wiped down the bar. His full beard didn’t do enough to hide the strain in his face. I didn’t figure he was stressed enough to break the way Patricia had, but I had to put out feelers. Sherry’s continued freedom was on the line.
“Hi, Mr. Tyler.” His gaze snapped up, but it was clear he didn’t recognize me. “I’m Sherry Mae’s niece, Nixy. We met Sunday.”
“We did?”
“When Jill Elsman almost hit you and Bryan Hardy. You stopped to talk with us.”
“I remember now.” His body language relaxed, but his expression was more perturbed than friendly. “What can I do for you—Nixy, is it?”
“What time do you and Lorna normally leave for the night?”
He gave me a long stare. “Why do you ask?”
I suppressed a shudder of unease and forged ahead. “I wondered if you saw Jill Elsman’s Hummer in the parking lot on Tuesday night.”
“Is this about your aunt Sherry Mae?” he asked, his gaze sliding to the group still at the doorway.
“Yes. I ask because it seems odd that Elsman wouldn’t have driven herself that night. So, did you see her car in the lot when y’all left?”
“Lorna went home before me that night. I don’t remember seeing that crazy Elsman’s car or not seeing it.”
Huh. He didn’t even have to think about his answer when he finally gave it. Had he rehearsed it? He also didn’t mention what time he left the café. Had he followed Hellspawn and killed her?
One thing was sure. If this man had an ounce of political charm, I hadn’t seen it Sunday, and I wasn’t seeing it now.
So much for getting more information. I thanked him, thanked Lorna on my way out the door, and gathered with the ladies on the wide sidewalk.
“I have another errand to run. Do y’all need me to bring anything home?”
“Are you planning,” Sherry asked, “to visit a certain detective? Tell him what you found out today?”
“I’m going over there, but I don’t know how much I’m going to tell him. I feel sorry for Patricia, and I don’t want to get her fired.”
“Do what you think best, child. We’ll see you later.”
• • •
I WALKED TO THE STATION, AND SHOAR EXITED THE building just as my feet hit the little parking lot.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey, yourself. You off for the day?”
“Not yet. You need something?”
“To talk, but, um, we might want to do that here.”
“Why?”
“There’s a rumor circulating about us.”
He grinned. “I know, but I need real coffee. Want to hit the Dairy Queen?”
“I’ll buy this time.”
He assisted me into his truck, wheeled out of the side lot, and then gave me the arched-brow glance that made a few butterflies wake up and happy-dance in my stomach. Dang, he really was handsome. And decent. And—
“You wanted to talk?” he prompted.
“Uh, yes. What happened with the Hummer?”
“I heard Jeanette drove it home.”
“Does that mean the techs found evidence in it?”
“It means we finished processing it. Why?”
“Elsman was such a control freak. I can’t see her leaving her own wheels behind when she vandalized the cemetery. So I figured you might have found signs of her accomplice in the car. Something that points away from Sherry.”
“No comment,” he said as he pulled into the drive-through. “Latte?”
“Banana milk shake,” I said, as I dug out my wallet. Bananas were a comfort food for me from way back, and I needed comfort about now because I
knew he wouldn’t share any details with me, but I had to ask questions. I couldn’t let up until Sherry was cleared.
When we had our orders, he drove again to the tech college campus. By then I’d sucked down enough banana comfort to calm down.
“What about your search of Elsman’s room?”
“What about it?”
“The man I heard in her room. You know, the night I brought Trudy back from the hospital. Didn’t you find anything that couldn’t be matched?”
“The evidence is at the state crime lab, but hotel rooms are a nightmare for matching samples. Too many people leave traces of their stays, even when the level of housekeeping is excellent.”
“Shoot.”
“Hey, I know you’re worried about Miz Sherry Mae, but don’t be. I’m doing my job.”
“I know. I just want this over with.”
“So you can go back to life in Houston?”
I opened my mouth to answer a resounding “yes,” then shut it. I sure didn’t miss taking orders from Barbra. Or miss the often temperamental, egotistical artists. Or miss the pretentious art snobs. And the Houston traffic? No. In fact, I didn’t even miss my apartment. My own bed was more comfy, but Sherry’s couch wasn’t so bad.
“Nixy?”
“Yeah?”
“Why did you go to the courthouse today?”
Chapter Nineteen
I BLINKED AND REORDERED MY THOUGHTS IN A hurry.
“I’ve been gathering family history information, and I wanted to research Sherry’s property. The history of Stanton ownership.”
“Come on, Nixy. You got Patricia to admit Elsman bribed her.”
I snorted. “Elsman threatened to have her son taken away. Wait. How do you know what she told me? Please tell me we weren’t overheard!”
“Patricia came by to see me on her break and confessed.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Nothing. She didn’t kill Elsman. She corrected the tax records. She’s welcome to keep whatever Elsman paid her, far as I’m concerned. I call it pain-and-suffering restitution.”
“That’s it? She keeps her job?”
“She was good at it before. She’ll be even more conscientious now.”
“That’s great, Eric.” I bit my lip. “You know, though, if Elsman bribed and bullied Patricia, she probably did the same to others. Like Clark Tyler. The Tylers seem to be having money problems, did you know that?”
“Nixy, I’m going to say this once. Whether it was someone Elsman bribed or bullied or not, someone hated or feared her enough to kill her. You think you’re asking innocent questions, but if you say the wrong thing to the wrong person, then I’ll have another death on my hands.”
“But—”
“I don’t want it to be your death.”
“But—”
“Or Sherry’s. You’d never forgive yourself, and what would Sherry’s housemates do without her?”
Mouth open for another “but,” I froze. No, I wouldn’t forgive myself if Sherry was killed. As for her housemates, after seeing the women giggling together today, I had an even deeper sense of how close they were. Dab and Fred? Well, the ladies treated them like brothers, and the men obviously adored the women as family.
“Nixy,” Eric said with a touch of impatience. “You shouldn’t have to think twice about putting yourself or the Six in danger.”
“I’m not. I’ve got it. It’s just that I hope you’re asking Clark Tyler some pointed questions.”
“Like what?”
“Like if he has a gambling problem.”
“I’ve heard that rumor,” he said, nodding. “What else?”
“If Elsman was bribing or blackmailing him, of course.”
“Of course, but if she was, it doesn’t mean Clark killed her.”
I arched a brow at him. “If you were gambling away family or business money, or both, would you want to face a wife with lethal utensils all over her kitchen?”
He grinned. “Lorna’s never struck me as having violent tendencies.”
“Funny man, aren’t you?”
“Have I made myself clear about staying out of this investigation?”
“You have.” Although as long as Sherry was at risk, I’d ignore him.
“Hey,” he said, and reached to cover my hand with his. “I’ll figure this out. Everything will be fine.”
He gave me a slow, sexy smile that about knocked me to the floorboard. Probably to disarm me after he’d chewed me out. It didn’t work, and I brought out my own ammunition. I gave him a sugar-high-sweet smile.
“We’d better get back before more rumors fly.”
• • •
SHOAR DROPPED ME AT MY CAR. I BEEPED MY Camry open, threw my bag on the passenger seat, and paced to the driver’s side when I noticed Bryan Hardy waving from the courthouse lawn and trotting toward me. Great. What now?
“Ms. Nix,” he said when he neared. “Are you well?”
“I’m good, Mr. Hardy. Why?”
“Call me Bryan. I saw Detective Shoar drop you off. Was he interrogating you?”
“Interviewing,” I corrected.
His baby face took on a hangdog expression. “I have to tell you how sorry I am about Ms. Sherry Mae. She’s always been such a good woman. I know people can snap, but I never thought she had it in her to kill someone.”
“Snap?” I echoed, ready to snap him. “You have to be kidding. It’s ridiculous to think that my aunt would kill anyone for any reason.”
He shook his head. “But the evidence—”
“What do you know about the evidence?” I asked slowly. Dinah had said the prosecution didn’t have that information any more than she did.
“It’s a small town. People talk.”
I narrowed my eyes and stepped into his space. He backed up. “Who talked?”
He stood taller. “I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Well, hear this, Mr. Hardy. Anything Detective Shoar has in terms of evidence is circumstantial. If it were solid, he’d make an arrest.”
“We’ll see.”
“Yes, you will see, Counselor.” I moved forward again, and he fell back again. If I advanced on him one more time, he’d be in the street. “Sherry Mae is innocent, and I’m going to prove it.”
That startled him. His sandy brows flew to his hairline, and something shifted in his hazel eyes.
“I’d be careful about asking questions, Ms. Nix. Obstruction of justice is a serious charge.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a friendly reminder,” he countered, then turned from me when a querulous voice called his name.
“Bryan! Stop talking to that rude Stanton girl and take me home.”
He turned back to me just long enough to give me a nod. Good thing he didn’t say another disparaging word about Sherry. I’d had it with both members of the Hardy family.
I got in the car, locked the door, and pulled my suspect list pad from under the driver’s seat. I’d talked with Patricia and Kate Byrd, and believed neither of them killed Elsman or knew who did. Pauletta gave me some insights about Clark Tyler, and he was the only original name left high on my list.
Although after the confrontation with Bryan Hardy, I added his name under Clark’s. Bryan had been fishing for information from me, but why?
Mindful that Dab and Fred would be leaving the house early for the concert, I checked the time on my phone and saw I’d missed a call from Trudy. I took the cell off mute and listened to my voice mail.
“Uh, Nixy, hi. I thought of something that might be important, but I don’t want to talk to Detective Shoar until I talk to you. Call me.”
As I saved the message, a knock on my window made me jump. It was Vonnie from the antiques store, an apologetic smile on her face.
“No problem,” I said over the sound of my pounding heart. “How are you?”
“Fine, fine. I’ve started our cleaning out and found some things I want to make sure Sherry gets. Do you mind taking them now?”
Much as I wanted to call Trudy back right away, I gave Vonnie a bright smile. “Not at all.”
The interior of the antiques shop didn’t seem as jammed with clutter as it had on Monday. In fact, the orange love seat and turquoise plastic chairs were the first things I noticed that were gone. Looked like Vonnie had sold some big items, too, and I hoped she got big money for the pieces. When I commented, she nodded happily.
“Several designers heard I was closing and came in. I sold a breakfront, a Hoosier-style cabinet, some metal lockers, and an entire 1920s bedroom set. I rather hated to let that go. One lady took about half of my mid-century modern things. I loved those, too.”
“My mother and I used to go antiquing. I remember a shop owner telling Mom that loving your stock was an occupational hazard.”
“She was right. You can’t keep it all, but it’s hard to see it leave. Except,” she added with a twinkle in her eyes, “when you know the right person is getting the right thing. Come on. Let me show you what I want Sherry to have.”
I followed her through a thick wooden door set next to an extra-wide metal roll-up door. Which made sense to have if you moved large pieces of furniture in and out of the shop. The back area, what Vonnie had called the workroom, was the size of a three-car garage with duct work and vents running overhead. Part of the heating and air-conditioning system, I guessed, and they made the space look a little like an industrial loft. Workbenches lined two walls, and a huge worktable sat in the center of the room. Another wall was covered with tools hanging on pegboards. Fred would love this place.
A metal door toward the left rear of the building opened onto a flight of steps that led to the apartment, where we walked into a space that functioned as much as a mudroom as a foyer. An antique hall tree with a golden oak patina held umbrellas, coats, and hats. From there, the open-concept living area extended the entire depth of the store downstairs. The living room furniture was traditional-comfy, and the kitchen had been updated in this decade. A fabulous crystal chandelier hung over a Queen Anne–style dining set. A reproduction, I guessed, but the mahogany finish was lovely, and the antiques blended seamlessly with the rest of the décor.
Silver Six Crafting Mystery 01 - Basket Case Page 20