One Hot Murder (20 page)

“I was planning on doing that…eventually. I thought it best to let Wheeler make the decisions until I had a better handle on how the store operated. He was supposed to mentor me—for a fee.”

“Which you already paid?”

Davenport nodded.

“You don’t need to pay a fee for mentoring from anyone in the Association. And I’d be glad to give you any advice and information you might need. I haven’t had as much experience as some of the members, but I seem to have had a bit more success than some of them, too.”

“‘No brag just fact’?” he quoted from an old TV Western.

“Yup,” Katie replied. “Maybe we
would
make a pretty good team.”

Davenport rubbed his chin. “Yes. We might. And maybe we should start working together right now.”

Katie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Now, Detective—”

“
About-to-be-retired
detective,” he corrected bitterly.

“Wouldn’t going after a murderer put us both in danger?”

“I think I know how to handle myself. And I can take care of you, too.”

Katie frowned.
What an ego!
“Okay, what do you want me to do?” she asked, resigned. After all, she wanted to know how all this turned out, too.

“First, we need to ascertain that it was indeed Dennis Wheeler who’s been hiding in Chad’s Pad.”

“According to Detective Hamilton, Abby Wheeler confirmed that the shirt we found last night did belong to Dennis. And didn’t you say it could take weeks before the state lab results come through with fingerprint and DNA evidence?” Katie reminded him.

“Exactly. And that’s why we need to trap him.”

“And how do we do that? We frightened him away last night. You don’t seriously think he’ll return, do you?”

“He might. If we bait him.”

“With what?” she cried, her exasperation level rising.

“He may have left something behind that he needs. I want to have another look at that room.”

“There wasn’t anything in there—besides what Chad left—except for some dirty clothes and dirty dishes. But there is something I forgot to tell you.” She told him about finding the suitcase on Sunday night—and how when she’d mentioned it to Hamilton and they’d gone to look, the suitcase was gone.

“Damn. No sign of it in Chad’s Pad, I suppose…”

“You suppose right. I didn’t see what the lab team took as evidence, but there couldn’t have been much in there. And the place was as hot as a sauna. If Dennis was staying in there day and night, he probably lost half his body weight in sweat.” But it did explain the thefts in the vendors’ lounge refrigerator.

“It is a pretty miserable place to stay,” Davenport agreed. He sighed in exasperation. “Would you be willing to talk to Abby Wheeler?”

“What about?” Katie asked suspiciously.

“Things!”

“What do I say? ‘Hello, Abby. Looks like your husband is wanted for murder. Tell me about that and every other crime he may or may not have committed.’” She frowned. “Can’t you see her slamming her front door in my face?”

“Mrs. Bonner,” he said, his voice dropping to a tone of admonishment.

“Katie. If we’re going to be partners in this, you’ll have to call me Katie.”

“Katie, I’m sure you’ll think of just the right thing to say. You always have in the past,” he added snidely.

She ignored the dig. “What’s my excuse for showing up on her doorstep?”

“You feel bad for her, because no matter what happens, it’s likely she’s lost her husband. Or how about pulling the comfort visit from the head of the Merchants Association? Use your imagination,” he encouraged.

Katie’s frown deepened. “How soon do you want me to talk to her?”

“How about now?”

“Detective—”

“Ray,” he corrected. “If I have to call you by your first name, you have to call me by mine.”

“Ray,” she said, and oh, it felt so wrong on so many levels, “I have a business to run. And besides, this just doesn’t feel right.”

He grabbed her by the arm with one hand and opened the office door with the other. “Sure it does. You’re one of the most curious women I’ve ever met in my life—next to my late wife—and you have a knack for getting people to spill their guts. Get Mrs. Wheeler to spill hers.” He pulled her into the vendors’ lounge. Luckily there was no one there to listen in on their conversation.

“But what if she’s too heartsick to talk?” Katie asked.

“Compare notes. Your husband really disappointed you before his death—”

“As far as we know, Dennis Wheeler is still alive,” Katie pointed out, ignoring the dig.

“He won’t be if she gets her hands on him,” Davenport said. “She’s got to be pretty pissed off by now—especially if he’s been hiding from her, too.”

“What if he fled to their house and she’s now harboring him?”

“It’s a possibility. Damn, I wish I could send you in there with a wire.”

“Surely you met the woman. You did buy her business.”

“
His
business,” Davenport corrected. “It was in his name alone.”

Katie frowned. “That seems strange. I mean, during the winter months she was at the store every weekday while he worked at the high school.”

“Maybe he paid her to work there.”

“And maybe he didn’t,” Katie grated. The injustice of the situation annoyed her.

“Let’s go,” Davenport urged her, giving her a slight shove in the back.

“You can’t come with me.”

“I’ll stay in the car,” he said.

“Oh no you won’t. If she sees you, she’s likely to clam up for sure.”

“Then I’ll park down the block. I can drop you off.”

“I’ll drive myself.”

“All right. Then we can meet back here.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it here.”

“Your place?” he suggested.

“I really don’t want to talk about it
there
either.”

“Well, there’s nowhere else to talk around here.”

“Okay, my place. But if Andy wants to know why I’ve invited you up there, you’re going to have to come up with a reasonable explanation. He won’t be thrilled to hear I’m helping you and I want to put off the moment of telling him for as long as possible.”

“Whatever,” Davenport said, and urged her to move.

“We have to stop at Tanner’s bakery first.”

“What for?”

“When I spoke to Abby at the library the other night, she said that because nobody knew if Dennis was dead or
alive, none of her neighbors or friends had consoled her or even brought over as much as a bagel.”

“So you’re going to bring her a bagel?”

“I was thinking about taking some cupcakes. Cupcakes are always comforting, especially if the frosting looks like a rose, don’t you think?”

“No. I’d prefer macaroni and cheese, but there’s no time for you to make it. I’ll check out Chad’s Pad while you go to the bakery. But hurry it up. We haven’t got all day.”

“Excuse me, but I’ll be doing
you
a favor by talking to Abby.”

“And I appreciate it,” he said, giving her a nudge. “But we aren’t finding out what she knows if you aren’t there actually talking to her.”

Katie sighed. Being friends with Davenport was going to be a major pain in the butt. But then it seemed like just about everybody she knew was being a major pain in the butt of late.

“Cupcakes. The more frosting the better,” Katie said, and marched out of her office. And maybe she’d score one for herself as well. If she was going to have to put up with Davenport, she was going to need some kind of reward.

Sweat trickled down the back of Katie’s neck as she tapped the dull brass knocker on the Wheelers’ front door. She held the bakery box tight and took a look around her, taking in the weeds that grew along the side of the house. No one had cut the lawn or whacked the weeds in a few weeks. That was probably Dennis’s job. But the rest of the place looked unkempt, too. Paint was peeling around the soffit and around the trim. It looked like more than a few household tasks had been left undone of late.

Abby’s car was still in the drive, so surely she had to be home. Katie knocked again and looked around once more. She saw the curtain at the window move. She couldn’t blame Abby for being careful, or for simply ignoring people intruding on her heartache—especially if they were from the local press. She started counting, figuring if she got to twenty, Abby wasn’t going to open the door. She got to eighteen when the handle turned. The door opened on a chain. “Katie, is that you?” Abby whispered.

“It’s me, and I’m alone. Can we talk?”

The door closed and the chain rattled. Abby threw open the door and quickly ushered Katie inside before slamming it shut again.

Unlike the outside, the inside of Abby Wheeler’s home was immaculate. Perhaps Abby had whiled away the hours relentlessly cleaning while waiting for word on her husband’s fate. Despite working a sixty-hour week at Kimper Insurance, Katie had occupied the rest of her spare time during her separation from Chad cleaning and baking. The apartment had been spotless and the larder full—and she’d had no one with which to share either of them.

“I hope I haven’t come at a bad time,” Katie said, following Abby into the dim living room. After being exposed to ninety-degree temperatures for hours on end, the air-conditioned room felt downright cold. Abby, dressed in a sweater, slacks, socks, and penny loafers, turned on one of the lamps and seated herself on the couch. Katie took one of the matching wing chairs that faced the curtain-shrouded picture window. “I brought you some cupcakes from Tanner’s.” She offered the box.

“Thank you, Katie. That was very thoughtful of you,” Abby said and accepted the box, setting it on the coffee table. “To tell you the truth, I could use a friend right now. This whole ordeal has really shaken me. I don’t know what to think—who to talk to that can understand what I’m going through.”

Katie nodded. Although she could guess, she really
didn’t
know what Abby had endured these last few days. “Losing trust in someone you love can shatter your world,” she began. “That’s how I felt when my late husband invested all our savings in Artisans Alley.”

Abby sighed. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been shattered by Dennis’s actions.”

“I was surprised to hear Dennis had sold Wood U.”
Katie could feel a blast of cold air coming from the register on the floor nearby and gave an involuntary shiver. Had Abby worked up a sweat dusting and polishing and set the temperature to sixty-five? With little humidity, it felt arctic cold.

“No more than me. But then I always wondered why a man who disliked children would become a teacher.” She shook her head. “Dennis’s father constantly belittled him while he was growing up. He did the same to his students. I’m surprised he wasn’t fired long ago,” she said bitterly. “I’d always wanted children, you see. I didn’t know Dennis’s feelings until we’d been married for over a year. I’m Catholic. I don’t believe in divorce. That’s why I concentrated on my career. These last few years I looked forward to our retirement. Now it looks like everything we’d planned for the future will never happen.” She sighed. “At least I don’t have the shop hanging over my head anymore.”

“You didn’t like running the business?” Katie asked, surprised.

“I hated it. I had no choice when my career was taken away from me, thanks to layoffs. Dennis had the shop
and
his teaching career—and he was intent on keeping them both until he retired.”

“Which was last month,” Katie said. Abby nodded. “What
were
his plans for retirement?”

“To buy a condo in Key West and get away from winters in western New York.”

Not surprising. A lot of people did just that.

“Do you think he might’ve taken off for Florida?”

Abby ran a hand through her bleached blonde hair, suddenly looking very tired. “I don’t know. If he killed someone at Wood U, he’d be smart to disappear. He’d have to know I’d mention his plans to that detective. He knows that I’m a real law-and-order freak and I can’t stand it when criminals get away with stuff. Look at how they treat shoplifters
with just a slap on the hand and maybe make them go to a few group therapy sessions. They don’t even make these people pay restitution. How does that stop crime?”

It sounded like Wood U had had more than a few light-fingered customers for Abby to be so angry about it. She never came to Merchants Association meetings, and Dennis had never mentioned it when the subject came up during the holiday rush back in December. Funny how it bothered his wife more than him. And yet when people thought of Wood U, they usually thought of Abby, not Dennis, as the owner simply because she ran the shop on a day-to-day basis.

Abby sighed. “I just can’t come to terms with the idea of Dennis killing anyone. But everything the officers told me last night points to that fact.”

“Such as?” Katie prompted.

“The shirt they showed me. I bought it as a birthday gift for Dennis in May. And the fact that every cent Dennis made from the sale of Wood U was withdrawn from our bank account the day this whole mess began,” Abby continued. “I wonder if he took off for a country with no extradition.”

Katie had wondered the same thing. “Do you have enough money to get along in the meantime?”