Murder Ink

by Lorraine Bartlett

  Katie shoved the door open as hard as she could. It clanged against the wall.

  Fiona stepped out from beyond the door, her unwavering right hand clutching a revolver. “Careful, Katie. You almost hit me.”

  Beyond Fiona, Katie could see Don gagged and tied to a chair. His chin was resting on his chest, a thin trickle of dried blood staining the side of his face. Katie’s breath caught in her throat and she swung her questioning gaze around to Nick.

  “He’s all right,” Nick said. The look in his eyes and the slight tremor in his voice told Katie that he wasn’t a hundred percent sure that his partner was, in fact, okay.

  “Don’s just taking a little nap,” Fiona said, her voice and expression both smug.

  Katie decided to stall for time. She had to trust that help was on its way. “What are you doing with that gun, Fiona? Please don’t tell me you and Nick are planning to kill Don. I mean, it was only a kiss, right?”

  Fiona barked out a harsh laugh. “Don’t insult my intelligence—or yours, either, for that matter.”

  “All right. Then what’s this about?” Katie said with a calm she didn’t feel.

  “It was necessary to get you over here, and I figured that if one of your friends needed you, you’d drop everything and come running. And here you are.” Fiona turned down the corners of her mouth. “You know what hurts my feelings, Katie? I was never really your friend. If I were, you’d have come over here to talk with me when I asked you to do so.”

  “Is that what this is all about?” Katie scoffed. “You’re angry with me because I went to help my new vendor get settled in rather than come here to talk with you about the Tealicious apartment?” Although she strained her ears, Katie couldn’t hear sounds of approaching vehicles or footsteps on the porch.

  “Come off it, Katie. You know what this is about.”

  She did know what it was about, and it infuriated her. “Fine. You want to talk about hurt feelings? I’m hurt that you and Hugh McKinney are using one of my businesses to distribute drugs!”

  “What?” The word emerged from Nick’s throat as an outraged squeak. He obviously didn’t know why Fiona had taken him and Don captive.

  “You’re delusional,” Fiona told Katie.

  Katie reined in her anger to appeal to the other woman’s vanity. “I’ve got to hand it to you. How have you managed to run such a large operation? It is large, isn’t it?”

  Fiona couldn’t seem to hide a smug grin. “One of the biggest on the East Coast. And it’s being run by a seventy-five-year-old woman. Who’d have ever guessed that?”

  “Who indeed?”

  Eyes narrowing, Fiona cocked her head. “You, apparently. How’d you figure it out?”

  “I didn’t until I smelled your perfume at Hugh’s booth and then in Chad’s Pad this afternoon.”

  Fiona shook her head ruefully. “I’m slipping in my old age. Damn Phil for buying me such a gift and me for being so sentimental.”

  “It’s a nice scent, but it lingers,” Katie said. Still no sounds of an approaching cavalry echoed from below. The longer she could keep Fiona talking, the better chance of an outcome where no one got hurt.

  Katie hazarded another glance at Nick. She could practically see the gears whirring in his head and wished she could find some way to assure him that help was on the way.

  “Please put down the gun, Fiona,” Katie said. “It isn’t necessary. All I want is my share of the profits.”

  Fiona’s eyebrows shot up, her expression darkening. “Oh, really? Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”

  “Believe what you want. Artisans Alley is my business and it’s in the red. If you’re going to move drugs through it, then I should get a percentage of the profit. It’s only fair.”

  “It’s fair, all right, but I don’t believe you.”

  “Why not? You said yourself I’m a savvy businesswoman.”

  “If all you wanted was a piece of the action, then why’d you call in the guy with the drug dog?” Fiona asked.

  “Drug dog?”

  “Miles is no blinder than I am,” Fiona sneered. “I know a drug dog when I see one.”

  “Fair enough,” Katie conceded. “On Saturday, I found a blue pill on the floor behind the cash desks. I looked it up online and learned that it’s very valuable. I wanted to find out if there were more. Miles and I have a deal. He gets ten percent of the action for verifying what I already suspected—at least until I figure out how to cut him out.”

  “I wish I could believe you, Katie. In fact, I feel we could’ve been a great team had you and I met before I got tied up with all these incompetent men.”

  “You mean Hugh?”

  “Hugh, Ken, Paul, Phil.” Fiona still kept the gun trained on Katie. “They’re all a bunch of screwups.”

  “I don’t know. Hugh seems to be fairly adept at getting the product out the door through his leather goods, especially those motorcycle saddlebags.”

  “If he’d truly been good at his job, then you wouldn’t have figured out what was going on.” She waved the gun. “Come on. Get in here.”

  Katie heard the floor creak behind her and breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re finished, Fiona.”

  “No, she’s not.”

  Katie whirled to see Phil standing at the top of the stairs.

  “I knew I’d have to come and clean up another one of your messes, Fi,” he said. “So, here I am. I headed out this morning after you told me about this man you suspect to be a cop.”

  “Phil, you idiot.” Fiona spat the words at her husband, who looked soberer and more collected than Katie had ever seen him. “I’m handling things just fine on my own.”

  “Really? Three deaths are going to be a lot harder to explain than just one.” Phil spoke calmly as he walked into the room. “And we can’t pin this one on the woodworker. If those two weren’t gay, we could make it look like a love triangle gone wrong.” He shook his head. “You really stepped in it this time, Fi. What’s your plan?”

  Fiona’s expression faltered for the first time.

  She doesn’t have one, Katie thought. Her mind scrambled to come up with a scheme of her own. Where is Schuler? Ray? Anybody?

  “Here’s the plan.” Katie’s voice sounded so calm that it almost sounded foreign to her. “You and Fiona pay the three of us, and we keep our mouths shut.” She gave Nick a pointed look. “This place is bleeding money. Don and Nick need all the help they can get.”

  “She’s right. We do,” Nick blurted, desperately nodding. “And we won’t ask for anything other than a onetime payment. Right, Katie?”

  “Actually, I won’t even ask for that. All I want is what I was asking Fiona for before you got here, Phil—a percentage of the profit you make trafficking drugs through Artisans Alley. It’s only fair.”

  “How do we know we can trust you?” Phil asked skeptically.

  “You can’t trust her, Phil!” Fiona shouted. “She’s the reason there’s a cop with a vendor booth at Artisans Alley!”

  “What do you propose we do?” Phil stepped over and yanked the pistol away from his wife. “How many people do you think I can kill in this tiny town without it coming back to bite us? As it is, we’re going to have to move our operations out of this burg.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Katie said. “Not if you—”

  “Shut up!” Fiona cried. “We’re trying to think!” She whirled to face Phil. “I was handling this situation just fine before you got here!”

  “Just like you handled the situation with Ken Fenton?” Phil demanded. “Had I not taken care of that, he’d have reported us to the feds and we’d both be in jail cells right now. You’re far too reckless.”

  Katie noticed Nick’s eyes widen. He held her gaze and mouthed the word, Drop.

  Instantly, Katie fell to her knees, covered her
head, and then rolled aside, hearing another thud as Beth yelled for Phil to lower his gun.

  Time seemed to stand still, but then a shot rang out.

  Katie risked opening her eyes to see Nick crawl over to her.

  “Are you hurt?” she whispered.

  He shook his head and put his arms around her, trying to shield them both from the chaos taking place all around them.

  Another gunshot seemed to shatter Katie’s eardrums and Fiona screamed. “Phil!”

  “Get in here!” Beth shouted. “And we need an ambulance!”

  Katie saw that Beth was bleeding from her left shoulder. Thank goodness Phil’s aim had gone high. Beth’s had not. Had her shot pierced Phil Lancaster’s heart? His eyes were glassy, staring up at the ceiling. Fiona had flung herself across his chest. For a second, Katie thought the woman acted out of devotion, but then she saw her reach for Phil’s gun.

  “Beth!” Katie cried.

  Arms splayed, Don toppled his chair onto Fiona. He’d managed to free his hands while everyone thought he was unconscious and struggled to subdue the older woman. Beth was instantly there and kicked Phil’s gun out of the way. Grunting with effort, she managed to handcuff a winded Fiona. Katie and Nick scrambled across the floor and it took both of them to right Don and his chair. She let Nick attack the rope binding Don’s feet.

  “This’ll sting,” Katie said, touching the edge of the duct tape that covered Don’s mouth. He mumbled something unintelligible and Katie ripped the tape off Don’s mouth.

  “Ya!” Don cried, and then swallowed. “It’s better than being shot.”

  That it was.

  Once free, Nick and Don embraced, leaving Katie to feel like a third wheel. That was okay. Halleluiah! She was safe.

  Suddenly the bedroom seemed filled with uniformed deputies. They hauled a hollering Fiona to her feet and dragged her out of the room and down the stairs. With a lump in her throat, Katie watched as an EMT checked Phil’s neck for a pulse. One of them looked up and shook his head at Beth.

  “Let’s get that shirt off you and take a look at that shoulder, Detective,” another paramedic said.

  Beth nodded and the two EMTs escorted the DEA agent over to sit on the bed.

  “Let’s give the lady some privacy,” Katie told Nick and Don. They headed out the door, where she found Ray pressed against the wall, trying to stay out of the deputies’ way. Once again, in his hand was the pencil with the handkerchief tied to it, which he waved enthusiastically.

  “You got my message,” Katie said unnecessarily.

  Ray nodded.

  “And that?”

  “A surrender flag . . . damsel hankie . . . it’s good for a multitude of things.”

  “You’re off the hook,” she said. “Phil confessed to killing Ken Fenton. We all heard it.”

  “Good to know.”

  Katie nodded to her left—the west—toward Artisans Alley. “Where’s Miles?”

  “Back at the Alley with Cal, who’s probably already arrested Hugh,” Ray said.

  “On what grounds?”

  “On the grounds that he and Fiona tried to move that cache of pills before Miles even showed up today.”

  “How did they know?” Katie asked. “I didn’t think the surveillance equipment was in place until Beth and Cal arrived at the Alley.”

  “Miles didn’t want to risk it. He put a camera in Chad’s Pad yesterday.”

  Katie smiled. “Well, I’ll be. What about Paul Fenton?”

  “We’ve got nothing yet. Only time will tell.”

  Katie nodded. “Thanks for calling in reinforcements. I truly appreciate it . . . but what took you so long?”

  He shrugged. “Aw, you know. I had to polish my shoes, get out my good damsel hankie . . .”

  Katie scowled, but then gave a playful punch to his shoulder. “Jerk.”

  Ray grinned. “Come on, admit it; you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Thirty

  It was with a sense of relief that Katie sat down at her desk in Artisans Alley that next morning. Relief that the answer to the biggest of her questions—who had killed Ken Fenton and why—had been answered. But there was still so much she didn’t know. And yet . . . she had a feeling she would find out fairly soon. She just had to wait to learn what crimes the Monroe County DA charged Fiona Lancaster and Hugh McKinney with.

  A knock at her door caused Katie to look up from her computer screen. “Can I bum a cup of coffee off you?” Ray asked, sounding contrite.

  “You know from your vendor days here at the Alley that everyone has to pay for their coffee.”

  “You couldn’t spare a friggin’ quarter?” he asked, sounding annoyed.

  Katie shrugged and sighed. “I suppose I could.” She dug into her jeans pocket and came up with a couple of quarters. She was about to rise, but Ray waved her back to stay seated. “I’ll get it.”

  Was it telling that he knew just how she liked her second-favorite caffeine drink of choice?

  Ray returned with two mugs, setting one on the desk in front of her before appropriating the tiny office’s guest chair.

  “What’s on your mind?” Katie asked, picking up her cup.

  “I just thought you might like to know how things stand in the Ken Fenton murder investigation.”

  “You mean everything not already mentioned on the channel ten news?”

  Ray sipped his coffee. “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m a little interested.”

  “Bull! You’d probably sell a few pints of blood to learn what I know.”

  “Blood?”

  “Sure. There’s a plasma center right in Greece. You want the address?”

  “I don’t think they’d have any information on Fiona, Hugh, and Paul, other than they’re in jail awaiting arraignment.”

  “Eh, you’re probably right.”

  Katie sipped her coffee, but Ray didn’t seem in a hurry to spill the beans. “Oh, come on. Tell all.”

  Ray shrugged, looking smug. “Well, okay. Fiona and Hugh are up for murder. On the other hand, Paul Fenton is up on lesser—but still serious—charges. He’s cooperating with the district attorney to strengthen their case against Fiona and Hugh. It seems he tried to break away from the group after realizing one of them was responsible for his brother’s death, but Hugh threatened Paul’s remaining family to keep him in the drug-distributing fold.”

  “Imagine that.”

  Ray cocked his head, looking smug. “I got to wrangle an invitation to sit in on the interrogation.”

  “Just a courtesy for an old, retired colleague?” Katie asked.

  “You got it.”

  “So that’s why you’ve been among the missing for the past couple of days.”

  “The girls can handle the store if I have to be away for a few hours.”

  “Lucky you.” She took another sip from her cup. “And?”

  “It seems Paul hadn’t realized the scope of the operation until it was too late. He’d bought some pot and a few prescription drugs from Hugh when Hugh had a mail route. Paul told the DA that he was just out of high school at that time and was easily led down the wrong path.”

  “Did someone play a tiny violin in sympathy?” Katie asked, nonplussed.

  Ray scowled at her and continued his recitation. “When Hugh looked him up a few months ago and said he knew how Paul could earn some extra money, Paul was eager to find out more. It seems Fiona came up with the idea for dealing in prescription drugs after Phil hurt his back and was sent his medication through the mail from the Veterans’ hospital. All she needed was a greedy doctor and a lot of fake names. She already had the addresses—those from her real estate holdings. Finding a shady doctor wasn’t that hard, but Fiona was afraid that having a large volume of drugs coming to her apartment buildings would attract too much att
ention.

  “That’s where Phil’s old military pal, Hugh McKinney, came in. As you know, Hugh worked for the postal service and made sure no one batted an eye at the number of prescription medications delivered to Fiona’s fake patients. But he wasn’t content with the money she paid him and he decided he wanted a bigger role.”

  “And where does Paul fit in?”

  “Paul got cold feet but he realized he knew too much about the operation for Hugh to wish him well and send him on his way. So, Paul went to his brother for advice. Ken made the fatal mistake of confronting Hugh.”

  Katie winced.

  “When Hugh told Fiona Ken had threatened their operation, she had Phil take care of the problem.”

  “By killing Ken.”

  “You got it. Phil knew how to rig the saw to short out and hoped that it would appear Ken had simply picked up a faulty piece of equipment. But if anyone had suspected foul play, Phil anticipated that it wouldn’t be too hard to point the finger at Hugh for the murder. Then he and Fiona could close up shop on Victoria Square and move elsewhere.”

  “Paul didn’t tell you that.”

  “No. Fiona admitted that straightaway. She isn’t the tough old broad you first met. Now she’s just a little old lady with chafed thighs wearing an orange jumpsuit.”

  “I can’t say I feel sorry for her,” Katie stated.

  “Nor I.”

  “What’s going to happen to Paul?”

  “He’ll likely cop a plea and get off with a light sentence, but unless he makes bail, he won’t be back at his tattoo shop anytime soon.”

  “I wonder if Regan can run it without him?”

  “That’s not the DA’s call.”

  “No, but . . .” Katie didn’t voice the fact that Brad would either have to wait for Paul to get out of jail or find another ink artist to transform his Julia tat to either a cobra or a feather. Personally, she preferred the feather.