Murder Ink

by Lorraine Bartlett

  “I can take over manning the cash desk. Keep me posted.”

  “I will, dear.”

  Katie watched as Rose gathered her purse and her current book, giving her a wave as she left Artisans Alley via the main entrance.

  Katie looked around, comparing the foot traffic at Artisans Alley to that of Tealicious, and thought wryly that maybe she should talk to Margo about drawing up a press release to sing the praises of this establishment, too.

  Even if the booths near the cash desks had been full of shoppers, Katie couldn’t have missed the hulking form of Paul Fenton coming toward her. He carried a set of monogrammed towels he’d picked up from Rhonda Simpson’s booth. Given his behavior the last time she’d seen him, Katie felt she’d be perfectly justified in refusing to serve him. But, then, that would only hurt Rhonda.

  Paul placed the towels on the counter. “Hi.”

  Katie nodded, rang up the price of the towels, and gave Paul the total.

  He handed her a credit card. “I want to apologize. I was out of line the other night.”

  “You think?” She blinked at him. “You forced your way into my home, threatened me to stay away from your family, and told the Sheriff’s Office I’d harassed you. That’s more than out of line. That’s way the heck across the border and buying the souvenir T-shirt.”

  Paul’s face hardened. “I’m sorry. I spoke with my sister, Mary, and she said I overreacted.” He leaned closer. “What can I say? I’m grieving the loss of my big brother. I can’t help being a little overprotective of my sister. Can I?”

  Katie shrugged and ran the credit card, then handed it back to him along with the receipt, which needed his signature. “Could you sign this, please?”

  “Of course.” He signed his name and then handed back the slip of paper and pen. But then Paul made a grab for Katie’s wrist. Eyes wide, she tried to pull her arm free, but Paul tightened his grip while caressing her skin with his thumb.

  “There’s no reason we can’t be friends,” he said softly. An underlying menace in his tone made the hair on the back of her neck bristle.

  “I can’t think of a single reason why we should,” Katie said firmly.

  He jerked her arm, pulling her closer to him, so close she could feel his breath on her face. “Because you don’t want me as an enemy, Ms. Bonner.”

  “I thought I already was.”

  He smiled and let her go. “Not yet. But don’t push your luck.” He took the bag of towels and left the Alley.

  Katie watched until he was out of sight before she sank onto the stool and rubbed her arm.

  “What the hell was that?”

  Katie started, not having heard Ray approach. “Ray, what’s the matter with you? What are you raving about now?”

  “I’m raving because from where I was standing it looked like Paul Fenton was trying to seduce you . . . and you didn’t seem to be resisting him.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Shows what you know. Your detective skills have apparently gone to pot these days.”

  “I’m as sharp as ever!” He scowled. “Wait. What was he doing?” His expression darkened as realization seemed to sink in. “Threatening you? Of course. Damn it, woman, you make me stupid.” He took out his phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Calling Schuler.”

  “Put the phone away. Please,” Katie added.

  “Just how bad a threat did Fenton make?”

  “He didn’t. Not in so many words. Besides, he’d turn it all around on me again and make me look like a fool to Detective Schuler.” Katie told Ray about seeing Harper and Mary at Tealicious. “And then Paul strolls in here and buys monogrammed towels like it’s the most normal thing in the world.”

  Ray squinted. “Did they have his monogram? I mean, what man buys monogrammed towels for himself?”

  Katie ran a hand over her cheek. “I don’t know what monogram was on them, Ray. I was trying to figure out what he was doing, not what he was buying. It’s all just too weird. First, the entire family treats me crappy—even the one I’m doing business with—and then, today, they act like I’m the greatest thing since water slides.”

  “Or monogrammed towels. Huh. That is out there. Maybe I need to take a closer look at the entire Fenton clan.”

  “Why? And, more importantly, how? I thought the Sheriff’s Office had cut off all communication with you.”

  “They’re not my only source,” Ray said sourly.

  “Why are you here anyway? The last time I saw you, you were pretty rude to me.”

  “Yeah, well, I came to say I’m sorry.” He lifted his hands and let them fall. “Like I said, you make me stupid.”

  Katie’s stomach flip-flopped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re a bright woman. Figure it out.”

  Katie sighed as Ray walked away. If she lived to be a hundred, she’d never figure that man out. Or any of the rest of them, most likely. All she knew was that she felt unsettled, and that wasn’t a pleasant place to be.

  Fifteen

  The shadows were lengthening when Katie closed Artisans Alley and walked across the Square to Sassy Sally’s. She couldn’t get Phil Lancaster’s behavior toward Hugh McKinney out of her mind, and she was determined to find out how well Nick and Don knew the Lancasters.

  Upon arriving, she found Nick perusing the bookshelves near the reception desk. He turned. “Good afternoon, madame,” Nick said with a twinkle in his eye. “Would you like to make a reservation?”

  “I’d like to reserve every night for the next year, but I can’t afford it.” She smiled. “Actually, I just dropped in to chat for a moment. Do you have time?”

  “I always have time for the woman who brought Brad Andrews to Victoria Square.” He shrugged. “I mean, I’d make time for you anyway, but I especially will now.”

  “Is Don around?”

  “He’s out running an errand. How are things going with Brad?”

  “Great. I went to Tealicious for lunch and he’d made the most delicious seafood salad with crabmeat, tricolor pasta, peas, celery, and green bell pepper.” She closed her eyes. “Amazing.”

  “That sounds fantastic.” He squinted into the distance. “I wonder if I offered him a free night’s stay, he’d make some for us.”

  “I’m sure he would. Or you could frequent Tealicious.”

  “And pay for it?” he asked, aghast.

  Katie laughed, but then turned somber.

  “Okay, what’s up?” Nick asked.

  “I’m not sure how to delicately broach the subject so I guess I’ll just dive in.”

  “Do it.”

  “Okay. How long have you known Phil and Fiona Lancaster?”

  “They were one of the first couples to book a reservation after Don and I appeared on that local television news program discussing the history of the mansion and detailing the renovations we’d made.”

  “Cool. From my own experience, I can see that it’s easy to get to know Fiona. She’s the loquacious one. But Phil is another story.”

  Nick arched a brow. “Spit it out. What is it you want to know, Katie?”

  “How well do you know Phil?”

  “Phil never says much until he has a drink or two in him,” Nick said. “Then the man would debate sports, the stock market, or politics with a fence post—and there’s only one opinion.”

  “His?”

  “You got it. Thankfully, those are all subjects both Don and I avoid, and Fiona helps keep him under control. She steers him into safer territory when his mouth begins to run away from him.”

  “I took Fiona and Phil on a tour of Artisans Alley today,” Katie said.

  “I’m surprised they haven’t been there before, as many times as they’ve visited the Square.”

  Katie wrinkled her forehead. “
Yeah . . . that is odd. Maybe they’ve had other things planned to do and just hadn’t gotten around to it.”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged. “So, how’d they like it?”

  “Fiona seemed to enjoy herself. And, it just so happens that Phil and Hugh McKinney—the new leather goods vendor—were Army buddies.” She fell quiet for a moment, mulling over the things Phil had said about Hugh and the things they’d said to each other.

  “What is it?” Nick prodded.

  “Phil made me think that I shouldn’t have allowed Hugh to rent a space at Artisans Alley,” Katie said. “In fact, it was Vance who leased him the space, and I trust Vance’s judgment . . . usually.”

  “But there’s something about this McKinney fellow that creeps you out?”

  “Not really. I didn’t give the whole matter much thought until Phil started giving me ominous hints about Hugh McKinney’s tenure at the post office, and surprise that Hugh hadn’t been fired or wasn’t making license plates.”

  “Did you ask Phil flat out what he was talking about?” Nick asked.

  “No.” She sighed. “I did go to the post office and asked to speak with Hugh’s former employer.”

  Nick’s eyes widened, but he said nothing.

  Katie flicked a wrist as if to wave away his thoughts. “I know, I know. I didn’t really expect him to provide me with any confidential information, but I’d hoped he might have at least said something along the lines of ‘You sure made a good decision welcoming Hugh McKinney into your organization’ or ‘I’d keep an eye on that Hugh McKinney, if I were you.’ The man could’ve been vague but still given me an idea of how he felt about Mr. McKinney . . . right?”

  “Maybe he didn’t have any particular feeling about McKinney.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Katie asked. “How could he not have any particular feeling about one of his employees, especially one who’d worked with him for years?”

  Nick spread his hands. “There’s a young woman on our cleaning staff who does an adequate job, doesn’t converse with anyone, and guards her privacy. If you asked me about her, I could tell you her name, but that’s about it. If you asked me for a job recommendation, I’d tell you the woman is reliable.”

  “That’s the word you’d use? Reliable?”

  “Yes. But, on the other hand, if you asked me about Leah, I’d tell you how much pride she takes in her work, how considerate she is of our guests and other staff members, and about how guests who’ve met her brag about her upon checkout. Unless she was leaving the area or something, I’d also beg you not to take our best worker.”

  Katie smiled. She’d met Leah. The woman really was a treasure.

  “Was McKinney at Artisans Alley when you took Phil and Fiona on the tour?” Nick asked.

  “He was. And they greeted each other rather like you’d expect old Army buddies to do: ‘Hello, you old son-of-a-gun.’ That sort of thing. But, later, Fiona and I came out of Chad’s Pad to find Hugh and Phil arguing.”

  “About what?”

  “Fiona said something about baseball rivalries, but I didn’t buy it,” Katie said. “I didn’t hear much of what they were saying, but when Fiona began pulling Phil away, Hugh said it wasn’t the time nor the place. Phil said for Hugh to tell him the time and the place and that he’d be there.”

  Nick made a confetti-tossing gesture. “It seems to me that Phil gave you every opening to ask him what he knew about your newest vendor. You should’ve bitten the bullet and asked him.”

  “I know, but I didn’t want to appear gossipy. Now I wish I had. How often do Phil and Fiona typically visit McKinlay Mill?”

  “Every two or three months.”

  “If I don’t have a better feel for Hugh’s personality by the time the Lancasters return, maybe I’ll ask Phil about him then,” Katie said.

  Nick grinned. “Just start pouring bourbon. He’ll tell you anything you want to know . . . and then some.”

  Katie laughed.

  As she walked back toward her apartment, however, Katie hoped she’d find out whatever secrets Hugh McKinney might be harboring long before the Lancasters returned to Sassy Sally’s.

  * * *

  —

  Knowing Andy had been having a rough day, Katie decided to stop into Angelo’s Pizzeria to see if he could come upstairs for a late dinner. The last time she’d made lasagna, she’d split it into two, freezing the extra. If he agreed, she would take it out of the freezer and then head to the grocery store to get a fresh loaf of bread.

  As she entered the pizzeria, she made eye contact with Erikka, who narrowed her gaze at Katie and then quickly looked away.

  “Hey, there, Katie!” Roger called to her from behind the counter. “Andy is in his office if you need to see him.”

  She smiled. “Thanks, Roger.”

  She walked on back to Andy’s office, wondering why Erikka might be upset with her. She tried to push the notion out of her head as she tapped on the office door.

  “Come in.”

  Katie opened the door and stuck her head in. “Hey, handsome. I came by to invite you to dinner.”

  Smiling, Andy stepped out from behind the desk and walked over to give her a kiss. He then tugged her inside the office, closed the door, and gave her a more thorough kiss.

  “Wow,” she said. “May I take that as a yes?”

  “Yes, I’d love to come to dinner,” Andy said. “It’ll be later, though. The soonest I can get away is eight o’clock.”

  “That’s perfect.” She remembered Erikka’s resentful glance and put some extra oomph into her good-bye kiss.

  After taking the lasagna out of the freezer and putting it in the oven before she drove to the grocery store to get something for said dinner, Katie thought about Erikka. She’d thought the other woman might’ve had a crush on Andy, but now Katie wondered if it was something more. Was Erikka in love with Andy?

  It doesn’t matter, she told herself. At the end of the month, Erikka will be gone . . . happily working for the school district. Or even unhappily. I don’t really care, as long as she’s away from Andy. She knew that was uncharitable, but it was hard to have warm, fuzzy feelings toward someone who was trying to steal your boyfriend.

  By the time she’d arrived at the store, Katie had decided on making a salad and lasagna for dinner. She headed for the produce section. There, inspecting bags of lettuce, was her friend and lawyer Seth Landers.

  Grinning, Katie eased up behind him and said in the sultriest voice she could muster, “Do you come here often?”

  He didn’t even turn. “Only when I have to, Katie.”

  “Darn! I was hoping to fool you!”

  “Never.” He turned and gave her his best brotherly hug. “I actually despise grocery shopping. Luckily for me, Jaime enjoys it.”

  Katie looked around. “Is he here?”

  “No. He’s working late, and I’m on my own for dinner.”

  “Would you like to join Andy and me?” she asked.

  “No, thanks. I appreciate the offer, but I have a deposition to read over this evening. I thought I’d make myself a salad and settle in for a long night of reading.”

  “Interesting case?”

  “I wish it were,” Seth said. “What about you? What are your plans for the evening?”

  “I’m making lasagna for Andy. He’s had a rough day. It appears Erikka will be leaving the pizzeria at the end of the month.”

  He nodded. “That’s right. She works part-time for the school system, doesn’t she?”

  “She does,” Katie said. “And they’ve notified her that they’re eliminating the part-time position. If she wants to keep her job, she’ll have to work full-time.”

  “I know a couple of members on the Greece school district’s board of education, and they’re adamant about getting their budget balanced. They’re co
mbining positions where they can and encouraging some of the older staff members to take early retirement.”

  “Speaking of early retirement, do you have any idea why a postal employee—specifically, Hugh McKinney—would be forced into early retirement by the post office?”

  “I don’t,” Seth said. “But it was probably something as simple as a cost-savings measure.”

  “Hmm . . . I met someone who intimated that there might be another reason.”

  Seth smiled. “Take it from a skeptical attorney, but that other person might’ve simply been planting seeds to make you mistrust McKinney.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Who knows? But in my line of work, I see a lot of strange, unreasonable things. It could be that the other person has a grudge against the guy and wants you to ask him to leave Artisans Alley.”

  “I wouldn’t make the man leave without just cause,” Katie said.

  “Then I wouldn’t worry about this other person’s intimations. Observe McKinney to see if he gives you any reason to be concerned.”

  “That’s good advice, Seth. Thanks.”

  “No charge. That’s what pseudo-brothers are for. I’ll have that merchants’ agreement finalized within the next couple of days, and be sure and tell Andy for me that I wish him luck replacing Erikka.”

  “Will do.”

  And she had every intention of passing along Seth’s regrets—even if she had none herself.

  * * *

  —

  When Andy came through the apartment door and into the kitchen at just after eight, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath and sighed. “This place smells heavenly.”

  “And your place doesn’t?” Katie asked. She stood at the counter, a serrated knife in one hand, about to slice a loaf of crusty Italian bread. She’d donned a cute vintage lace-trimmed eyelet apron because she knew it amused Andy to see her in it, calling it her Suzy Homemaker outfit.

  “Yeah, sure, the pizzeria smells great, but this is different. This smells like Momma’s kitchen.”