Murder Ink

by Lorraine Bartlett

  “Be my guest. Just one more thing before you go.”

  He groaned.

  “You’re not the only person I’m afraid Schuler is biased against. You’d have never let Paul Fenton get away with charging into my home, threatening me, and then filing a complaint against me.”

  “Yes, I would have. I’d have had to. You were harassing his family.”

  Katie felt her jaw tighten. “I most certainly was not! Was having brunch with Mary Jones yesterday harassment? If so, maybe I should go to the police station and turn myself in.”

  “Maybe we’ll get adjoining cells.”

  “I’m being serious,” she said.

  “So am I.” He paused. “Had I been in Schuler’s position, I’d have had to issue a warning to you to stay away from Paul and his family. We—the Sheriff’s Office—are required to take all complaints seriously, even if we feel they might be frivolous.”

  “Oh, it was frivolous, all right.”

  “But I would have also warned Paul to stay away from you,” Ray went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “And I imagine that’s exactly what Schuler did. The man is doing his job, Kate.”

  Kate? That was new. She let the comment pass.

  “I’m just so afraid that you’re going to find yourself convicted of a murder you didn’t commit,” Katie said.

  “I’ll be all right.” His voice had softened. “I’ll handle it.”

  “But—” Katie began.

  “I’ll handle it.” Ray’s voice was still gentler than it had been but was now firmer than ever.

  “Okay. Thanks for getting Miles to come tomorrow.”

  “No problem. He’ll be disguised as a blind guy so that anyone who sees him entering the building won’t be suspicious.”

  “They won’t be suspicious of a blind guy coming into the Alley on the day that it’s closed?” Katie asked.

  “No. He’s a prospective new vendor. He’s coming to check the place out to see if it’ll work for him.”

  “All right.”

  “Have a good night,” Ray said.

  “You, too.”

  When she ended the call, she sat looking at her phone until the screen went black. What was with him tonight? He’d answered the call in the guise of an angry old man. He’d finished the call . . . how? Deflated? Depressed? Defeated?

  Katie felt as if Ray was trying to push her away. But why would he do that? Because of pressure from the girls? Or was there more to it? Was he afraid she’d get hurt if she continued trying to help him?

  She started when she heard Andy’s key in the lock.

  “Hey, Sunshine!” He came into the living room and dropped onto the sofa beside her. He pulled her to him and kissed her. “How was dinner?”

  Katie nestled her head against Andy’s warm neck. “It was good. One thing about it, though—Fiona Lancaster is clearly not the sweet little pushover I imagined her to be.”

  Twenty-Six

  Monday morning. Katie was seated at her office at Artisans Alley when she heard the side door open. She hurried into the vendors’ lounge and saw a tall older man with an athletic build and a military bearing. He wore sunglasses and held the harness of a black German shepherd. The dog wore a vest announcing it as a service animal.

  “Are you Miles?” Katie asked hesitantly.

  The man raised the glasses up onto his head before sticking out his hand. “Yep. Nice to meet you.”

  “Katie Bonner.” She shook the man’s hand and then looked at the dog. “I understand that he’s friendly . . . when you tell him to be.”

  Miles laughed. “I guess that little nugget of information came from Davenport. Where is he? I thought he was going to be here.”

  “No—” Katie began.

  But before she could say anything further, Ray entered the lounge via Artisans Alley’s main showroom. “I’m here,” he said. “I couldn’t miss an opportunity to see Grimm in action.” He reached down and patted the dog’s head.

  “You can pet him right now,” Miles told Katie. “It’s when I slip the chain collar on him that he knows he’s working. Then he’s all business.”

  Katie wasn’t sure she wanted to risk petting the big dog, but Miles instructed Grimm to shake her hand.

  “Introduce yourself, buddy.”

  On cue, the dog sat and raised his paw. Katie smiled and shook it.

  “What a good boy you are,” she cooed. “Yes, you are.”

  Grimm happily wagged his tail.

  “He’s beautiful,” Katie told Miles.

  “Thank you. We’re retired now, but he and I still do favors for crotchety old friends and we still come in handy with the local police now and then—missing person searches, narcotics investigations, that kind of thing—when they need us.”

  Ray harrumphed. “Crotchety old friends, huh? Takes one to know one.”

  “All right. Let’s get started.” Miles removed the service dog vest and handed it to Ray. “Make yourself useful and hang on to that.” He slipped the chain collar and leash onto the dog, and the dog immediately went on alert. “Every room, Ms. Bonner?”

  “Yes, please . . . and it’s Katie.”

  He gave her a brisk nod. “Grimm, let’s go.”

  Katie and Ray were quiet as they watched Grimm first inspect the vendors’ lounge. Katie was sure there was a lot to smell there, but the dog didn’t react to anything.

  After they’d gone around the perimeter of the lounge and investigated the big Formica dining table, they headed for Katie’s office. The room wasn’t large enough for all three adults and the dog, so Miles and Grimm went inside while Katie and Ray watched from the doorway.

  Grimm was immediately drawn to the small drawer in Katie’s desk and sat. Miles glanced at Katie. “I thought this was your office.”

  “It is,” she said. “There’s an oxycodone tablet in there that I found on the floor Saturday. It’s the reason I became concerned about drug trafficking.”

  “May I?” He nodded toward the drawer.

  “Of course.”

  Miles opened the drawer and then rewarded Grimm with a treat.

  “I didn’t know what to do with the tablet,” Katie said.

  “After we leave, take it home, put it into a sealable plastic bag with either coffee grounds or kitty litter, and then put the bag into the garbage.”

  “Okay.”

  At Katie’s look of confusion, Miles explained, “You don’t want to be carrying narcotics around a drug dog.”

  “Oh! Of course not.”

  Miles grinned. “Let’s see if we can find something else, Grimm.”

  The dog obediently left the office and resumed the search. After an extensive walk around the first floor, the group headed upstairs. To Katie’s surprise, Grimm didn’t show any interest whatsoever in Hugh McKinney’s booth. Had she been wrong to suspect him? Had she suspected him mainly because it had been Vance to vet him and not her? Or was it solely because Phil had planted the seeds of doubt in her head?

  “What’s in here?” Miles asked, moving toward Chad’s Pad.

  Katie unlocked the door and explained that the room showcased her late husband’s artwork. “It isn’t for sale, but I display it in honor of his memory.”

  “Nice.” Miles surveyed the paintings appreciatively as Grimm moved throughout the room.

  And then Grimm sat down in front of an ocean landscape.

  “What’s he doing?” Katie asked.

  “He’s found something,” Miles said.

  “That’s impossible. How could there be narcotics in a painting?” Her mind whirred with the possibilities. Did drug traffickers grind the opioids into powder, tint them, and use them in paint or something? She didn’t see how that could work.

  “Would you please take down the painting?” Miles asked.

 
Before Katie could react, Ray had taken down the landscape to reveal a cache that had been cut into the wall.

  Katie gasped.

  Miles took a latex glove from his pocket and slipped it onto his right hand. He reached into the cache and removed a plastic bag filled with blue tablets just like the one that was in Katie’s desk drawer.

  He arched a brow at Katie. “Good job. Your suspicions were right on target. Someone is using Artisans Alley to traffic opioids.” He withdrew his phone and snapped a couple of photos.

  Katie continued to gape at the wall. “How did they get in? I keep this door locked.”

  “Even I could pick that lock,” Ray chimed in.

  Katie frowned and addressed Miles. “What do we do now?”

  “You must act as though it’s business as usual around here,” he said, pocketing the phone. “And for all intents and purposes, it is. I’ll go to the authorities, and they’ll likely implement an undercover surveillance and sting operation. I know you want these people out of your business as soon as possible, and I’ll do my best to help get them out.”

  “B-but what about my friends . . . the vendors . . . the other merchants on the Square?” she asked.

  “Say nothing to anyone,” Ray said firmly.

  “He’s right. You don’t know who’s involved. And if the drug traffickers knew you or anyone else was onto them, it would be dangerous for everybody.” Miles put the bag of tablets back into the wall and nodded at Ray.

  Ray replaced the painting and then stood back to ensure it was straight.

  “It’s good,” Miles said. “Let’s go.”

  As they walked toward the staircase, Grimm stiffened and emitted a low growl.

  Miles raised his index finger to his lips, slipped the vest back onto the dog, and put his sunglasses back over his eyes.

  “I think you could get a lot of business here, Miles,” Ray said, as they started down the stairs.

  “And, of course, we’ll give you a booth downstairs,” Katie said. “I don’t want you to be put off by the stairs.”

  “Stairs don’t bother us,” Miles said. “You don’t need to make any special concessions for me.”

  “Oh, I know. Still, I feel that pottery would be a big draw downstairs.” She could hear that someone was there. “I’m glad you came in today while the place was deserted so you could get the lay of the land. I do hope you’ll decide to join us.”

  “I’ll give you my decision in a day or so,” Miles said. “I do appreciate the tour. Left or right at the bottom of the stairs?”

  “Right, if you’re going toward the vendors’ lounge, and left if you’re going toward the front door.” Katie saw that their unexpected visitor was Fiona Lancaster. “Fiona, hi!”

  “There you are,” Fiona said with a smile. “Where is everyone?”

  “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but Artisans Alley is closed on Mondays.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s fine,” Fiona said. “I was actually looking for you. If I bring home another bauble, Phil might have my head.”

  “Fiona, this is Miles and Ray. Gentlemen, this is Fiona Lancaster.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Miles said. “I’m afraid we must be going now. Katie, I’ll let you know something definite in a day or so, but I am interested in leasing a booth here.”

  “Thank you,” Katie said. “And thank you, Ray, for telling Miles about Artisans Alley.”

  “Always glad to help out a friend,” Ray said. “Miles, let’s go out through the vendors’ lounge.”

  “Please don’t let me interrupt,” Fiona said. “Ever since Katie told me about her plans to renovate the upper level of Tealicious, I’ve been dying to see it.”

  “We can go over now,” Katie said.

  Fiona patted Katie’s arm. “You finish up with your guests, and I’ll meet you there.”

  “All right. See you in a few minutes.” Katie smiled until Fiona was out the door. Then she turned to Ray and Miles and blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. I should’ve locked that door. But I left both entrances unlocked because I didn’t know which one you’d use.”

  “Do you think she bought our act?” Ray asked.

  “Why wouldn’t she?” Katie asked. “She doesn’t even live around here. She simply comes in and stays at Sassy Sally’s every few weeks.”

  “Why’s that?” Miles asked.

  Katie shrugged. “It’s just something she and her husband enjoy doing, I suppose. They used to own property in the area.”

  “That was quick thinking about the pottery,” Miles said. “You’re fast on your feet. You ever think about going into law enforcement?”

  “Too much,” Ray answered for her.

  Katie ignored him and said to Miles, “Pottery was the first thing that popped into my mind. I tried to come up with some sort of craft a blind person would be able to create.”

  “That’s our story, then, and we have to stick with it,” Miles said. “Ray and I will leave together through the side entrance. I’ll walk with Ray to Wood U, and then he can drive me to my car.” He glanced at Ray. “I left it behind the empty warehouse across the back parking lot so no one in open view of Victoria Square would see a blind man get out of the driver’s side of a car.”

  “Be careful,” Ray told Katie. “And don’t deviate from our cover story.”

  “I won’t.”

  Miles patted her arm. “I’ll be in touch soon. We’re going to get these people, Katie.”

  “Thanks.” She hoped he wasn’t making empty promises.

  * * *

  —

  After locking Artisans Alley, Katie marched across the tarmac and put a bright cheery smile firmly in place before entering Tealicious. She gazed around the dining room, spotted Fiona sitting at a table in the back, and made her way over to the table.

  “These blueberry scones are divine,” Fiona said as Katie took the chair across from her. “You must have one.”

  “I don’t mind if I do.” Katie helped herself to a scone as Emma, the server, brought over another teacup and saucer.

  “I have to admit I was surprised to see that blind man and his dog there at Artisans Alley.” Fiona winced. “Is it terribly antiquated of me that my first thought was, ‘What’s a blind man doing in an arts and crafts co-op?’”

  “No. I was surprised when Ray called me and told me his friend was interested in a booth. But Ray spoke so highly of Miles’s work.”

  “Have you seen any of it?” Fiona asked.

  “Very little . . . but what I have seen is impressive.” That much was true, at least. Miles and Grimm had been impressive.

  “And what is it he does?”

  “Pottery,” Katie said simply.

  “How very interesting. I suppose it makes sense, though. Pottery can be tactile as well as visual.”

  “Exactly.”

  “That other man . . .” Fiona began. “Ray, was it?”

  Katie nodded.

  “Wasn’t he the one arrested for Ken Fenton’s murder?”

  “He was,” Katie answered. Since she’d already professed her belief in Ray’s innocence the night before, she didn’t mention it again.

  “According to the newspaper, they found evidence that linked him directly to the crime.” Fiona leaned across the table. “You’re so kind, Katie. I don’t want you to end up hoodwinked by anyone.”

  “I’ve known Ray for ages,” Katie said. “He’s not a murderer.” The first part of that statement was a bald-faced lie. She wholeheartedly believed the second.

  “How do you explain the evidence against him? Do you think someone is trying to frame the man?”

  Katie shrugged. “I guess it’s possible.” A change of subject was definitely in order. “I can hardly wait to get your suggestions for the apartment.”

  Fiona flicked h
er wrist. “I’m sure you don’t need my input. Just by looking around this room I can tell you have a decorator’s eye. Nick told me you picked out most of the furnishings at Sassy Sally’s. But I simply adore seeing befores and afters.”

  “Me, too.” Katie smiled, thrilled that they’d moved on from the awkward conversation.

  * * *

  —

  After showing Fiona the office space above, the women parted and Katie went back to her apartment and wrestled with her conscience before she picked up the phone.

  “Hey, Guy, I know it’s not our usual lunch day, but could you please meet me upstairs at the apartment? It’s kind of important.”

  “What’s wrong, Sunshine?” Andy asked.

  “I’ll explain when you get here . . . if you can, I mean.”

  “I’ll be there. Erikka isn’t working today, but I’ll leave Roger in charge.”

  When Andy arrived at the apartment, he let himself in with his key and found Katie sitting on the sofa as still as a statue. He sat beside her and put his arms around her.

  “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

  She chewed at her bottom lip while Andy waited patiently for her to begin.

  “I’m not supposed to talk about it because . . . I don’t know who I can trust.”

  She looked into his dark brown eyes. “I trust you.”

  He gave her a smile, hugging her tighter. “And?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t quite know where to begin.”

  “At the beginning, maybe?”

  So, starting with finding the blue tablet on the floor behind the cash desk on Saturday morning, Katie relayed the pertinent events to Andy. Her tale ended with, “And that’s when Grimm and Miles learned that someone had cut a hole in the wall behind one of Chad’s paintings and filled it with oxycodone tablets.”

  “What did you do?” Andy asked, looking grim. “Because I didn’t hear any police sirens this morning.”

  “No. We didn’t call the police. Miles felt we should handle the matter quietly. We—or, rather, he and Ray—put the drugs back into the wall and hid them with the painting the way we’d found them. If we’d called the police, we’d have no way of knowing who the pills belonged to.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “The drug trafficker would be out a bag of pills, but those could be replaced soon enough, and it would be back to business as usual.”