Murder on the Ol' Bunions (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery) (25 page)

“Have a nice visit. Send him my best.”

Hardy threw his keys up in the air and caught them. “I’ll be waiting for
ya
.”

But I wasn’t done with Payton. “You’d have more customers come in to look around your store if looking at you didn’t hurt so much.” I rubbed my eyes to highlight my point.

Payton’s smile didn’t budge. “Don’t like the new threads, huh?”

I
laid
a bit of bait on a hook. “Wearing those clothes lights up a room so much, you probably won’t need electricity. Speaking of which, I saw some lights on in your shop the other night. You’re
gonna
have a whopper electric bill.”

His smile flattened the slightest bit. “I must have forgotten.”

Hardy broke my questioning as he hollered a warning to me. “Best hurry, woman. I
ain’t
waitin
’ on you.”

Payton opened his bag and began to dig around. I scrammed out of the house and made my way down the driveway where Hardy waited.

“Let’s walk,” I suggested.

“You sure?”

“The exercise will do us good.” And give me a chance to process Hardy’s announcement about the secret room being the assayer’s. Could be that was the reason Payton rallied for his building to be declared historical. If he truly knew . . . And why shouldn’t he? The legend was well known. Dana, too, would have an inside track, being a
Letzburg
and all.

“How do you think Mark could be involved in this whole thing?”

Hardy matched my pace and swiped his forehead with the back of his hand. His jaw worked back and forth as he mulled on it. Deciding not to push him for an answer, I released my thoughts to the beauty of the day, and let the sunshine wash over me. Too much thinking made my head feel all clogged. I breathed in the fresh, clean air. The sun on my skin turned from pleasant to hot in short order and I quickly recalled why I’d decided to drive this morning. Still, aching feet and all, I needed this time out in the air. Just ahead, we’d be shaded by the arching branches of the trees that lined our road. They formed a leafy arch, and the shade lowered the heat of the sun to bearable proportions.

We made it all the way to Gold Street before Hardy finally responded.

“He writes that article for the paper. He’s doing his own research on Maple Gap. Could be he ran across something that got him to thinking Marion’s building was important. I’m guessing Marion had a key to the shop around the house, which means Mark probably has unlimited access to the store.”

I latched onto that line of thinking like a moth to light. If Mark had
Valorie’s
key
to the shop, what would prevent him from entering whenever he liked? Chief hadn’t bothered with putting a different lock on the door. Was Mark looking for the diary? But
him
pushing the dining room table to block the entrance still remained unexplained.

We crossed Gold Street when we came parallel to Your Goose is Cooked. The sign in the door read CLOSED.

On the way back home, my legs chafed in step with my temper. Why hadn’t I called first and saved myself a trip? Hardy remained quiet.
For once.
When we turned off Gold Street to Spender Avenue, I glanced down the road, gratified to see Chief’s car outside Marion’s. Maybe this wouldn’t be a wasted trip after all.

“Let’s go see what Chief’s up to.”

Through the window, I could see only the shadowy outlines of furniture. Hardy tried the door and I hollered out, not wanting to startle the man.

Chief poked his head out of the hole in the wall. “Guess what I found?”

“A skeleton,” Hardy guessed as a shudder ran over his body.

“Nope.”

My turn to guess.
“A dead body?”

Chief laughed and pointed a finger. “You’ve been reading too many criminal science textbooks.”

I waited for Chief’s explanation. His gaze went to Hardy, a tiny smile playing about his lips. The moment the light bulb went on in Hardy’s head, I could see the bright light shine from his eyes. Too bad I was clueless. Chief smiled huge.
“Yup, Hardy.
That’s right.”

Now you can guarantee I didn’t like this non-talk talk one bit. Something brewed between these two men and they were enjoying it at my expense. I crossed my arms. “I’m
gonna
be
bangin
’ some heads in a minute,
po
-lice officer or no.”

Chief busted out laughing. Hardy joined in.

The nerve!

I reached out a hand and gave Hardy’s drawers a good upward yank. He shut up. His eyes got real buggy.

Chief might have choked to death trying not to laugh if I hadn’t narrowed my eyes in his direction.
“Talk.
And make it quick.”

He sobered up nicely as Hardy worked on getting his britches lowered a notch.
“Nothing really,
LaTisha
.
I figured since Hardy worked out the drawing in the diary so well . . . anyway, we found a partially boarded up entrance that leads right up to the back of one of those uprights Payton was moving around the day of Marion’s death.”

“He’s at our house right now tuning the piano. Sounds like you’ll need to be asking him some questions.”

Chief rubbed his jaw. “I’ll get Officer Simpson over here to help me get all those boards off first. Whoever nailed them up must have used an entire box of nails. Then I’ll find Payton and ask him a few questions.”

I headed for the door, thinking of my simmering sauce and wondering if Payton would be done with the piano yet. I had a few questions of my own.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Hardy trotted along beside me in a huff over what I’d done at Marion’s. Let him huff. He could puff and blow the house down, too, and I’d say he got what he deserved.
Ornery critter.

I tried to adjust my hose by pulling on them through the fabric of my dress, so my legs wouldn’t rub so bad. They burned like fire. But I hoofed it back to the house in record time. Payton’s little subcompact—yellow, if you can stomach the thought of that—glowed in my driveway for all to see and be blinded by.

Satisfied I’d have my
say,
I went in the side door, gave my sauce a stir and turned off the burner. Hardy
pooched
his lip out at me and headed up the steps. I let Hardy pout and headed toward the living room. Payton leaned into the front of the piano as he hit a key and cranked his little tool
thingie
back and forth.

I took a seat in the armchair I’d been in earlier.
“Was over at Dana’s the other day.
She was complaining that her Steinway didn’t sound tuned even after you’d tuned it.”

Payton froze, his elbow locked in mid-crank. His posture radiated shock. Ever so slowly he straightened, lowering the tool. He met my gaze.

The
pattern of his clothes seem
to gyrate and throb as he plunged his hand into his bag and dug around. In seconds he had gone from a genial piano tuner to a stranger. His movements became jerky and a line of perspiration broke out on his forehead.

I decided to push further. “You know what else? Chief let it loose that he found a secret room in Marion’s store. You know about that?”

“No.”

But his answer held definite bite. I had struck a nerve. I feigned acceptance of his answer and got back on my feet, delighted at the obvious distress I’d stirred in the boy. “Well, I’m guessing you don’t need me here buzzing around your head. I’ll go check my spaghetti sauce.”

In the hallway, out of sight of Payton, I allowed myself a smile, while forming the questions I would ask in my next attack.

Within minutes, Payton yelled out.

“I’m all done. I’ll send you the bill.”

Shocked, I set the lid back on the sauce and headed toward the hallway, but the door clicked behind him. Guess I stirred up more than my sauce. Though disappointed I’d not been able to ask him anymore questions, I knew chief was waiting for Payton at the other end. In the meantime, Hardy and I would go see Dana.

I found Hardy in the living room going from table to table, moving magazines around, even checking the shelves of my bookcase.

“What you looking for?”

He stopped in the middle of the room, hands on his hips. “Where’s the diary?”

“You had it upstairs last night.”

“I looked up there.”

It came to me in a flash. “Oh!” I pointed at the armchair where I’d sat and talked to Payton. “I brought it down here. Set it there when I saw Payton arrive for—”

Hardy’s brown eyes snapped. “I think we got a thief.”

I turned on my heel. “We can head over there and get it back.”

“No, we can’t.”

I spun.
“And why not?”

He tapped the crystal of his wristwatch. “Because I told Dana we’d be over at her place at three and
it’s
two forty-five now.”

We stared at each other for a full minute and I knew the time had come for me to lay it out. “I’m sorry.”

Hardy shuffled up close.
“Me too.
I shouldn’t have harassed you. I know how you hate me doing that.”

“Truce?”

“If I can have some of that spaghetti sauce.”

“We don’t have time. I haven’t made the noodles.”

“Then I get two blueberry pies.”

I rubbed my hand over his head. “I can do that.”

We bandied the questions we should ask Dana as Hardy hauled us over there in Old Lou. He recommended asking her why she rescinded her report of the diary being stolen if she hadn’t found it.

 
“We’re not one hundred percent sure this is the diary,” I added. But the name on the diary matched the one in the letter, so how could it not be? “I want to know what she was doing at Marion’s shop that day.”

“Doesn’t look like she was delivering a party invitation.”

A chill ran through me. “What if Dana actually was the one who pushed her? If they had a real fight over
Valorie’s
cheating
— ”

“Don’t’ you worry
none.
” Hardy reached over and rubbed his hand over my knee. “I’ll be right there to protect you.”

I didn’t feel reassured.

Chapter Twenty-Six

As we got closer to Rolling Way, my eyes took in the townspeople filling up at the Grab-N-Go on the corner.
Gotta
eyeful when I saw the price of gas.
But the man standing beside a hunter green sedan really got my heart to pounding with excitement.

I leaned over toward Hardy as the turn signal clicked on and he began the turn. “No, no, go there!”

Confused, he tried to straighten the wheel. I grabbed hold and tugged it to the right so he’d pull into the Grab-N-Go.

“What you
doin
’?”

“Mark. I want to talk to him.”

 
“That’s all you had to say. No need to go jerking the wheel.”

Granted, but I was so excited to find him and see what he knew about Marion’s store. I heaved myself out of the car and slammed the door hard before Hardy even had the car in park.
Didn’t have to go far though, because Mark jogged right up to me, a wide grin on his face.
Looked more relaxed than I’d seen him in a while.
I quick turned my shoulders away from Mark and dug down to bring out some money, handing it through the window to Hardy.

“I want a drink. Get yourself one, too, but make sure I get the change.”

“You
gonna
make us late.”

“Then hurry.”

I turned back toward Mark as Hardy went off to complete his mission.

“Your talk with Pastor went well?”

“I came over to thank you for suggesting it,
LaTisha
. I admit I wasn’t real sold on the idea.
Valorie’s
doing a whole lot better too.”

“She’ll grow by leaps in the next couple of years.”

He leaned against Lou and crossed his ankles. “Guess you heard about the break-in?”

 
“Heard about it this morning.”
I zoomed in on his expression, making sure I didn’t miss any reaction he might have at my next statement. “Heard, too, that the police thought it looked staged.”

The slightest crinkle of amusement played at the corner of one of his eyes, but he remained silent.

I took the plunge. “You know about that room behind the bookcase, don’t you?”

Whatever his reaction, I wasn’t prepared for him to slap his thigh and let loose with a string of deep laughs.

“You’re good,
LaTisha
.
Real good.”

Stunned.
That’s what I was.
Absolutely stunned.
Was this boy making a confession?
Naw
.
Confessions meant surly looks and the possibility of physical harm to the good guy—me. I narrowed my eyes, very much aware, and relieved that the Grab-N-Go provided many witnesses in case Mark got it in his head to bash me. Hardy, too, would be right at my side, as long as he got back with our drinks in time. “You saying you did the breaking in?”