One Hot Murder (36 page)

Detective Hamilton suddenly loomed before her, shaking his big, heavy head. “Mrs. Bonner,” he began with what sounded like profound disappointment. “It seems you still haven’t learned to stay out of the Sheriff Office’s business.”

“Are you holding me personally responsible for the death of Jerry Murphy, the assault on Detective Davenport, and the death of Abby Wheeler?”

“Of course not. But you could have been hurt or killed. If you’d simply called my office, some of this might have been avoided.”

“If I hadn’t shown up when I did, I’m sure Ray Davenport would be just as dead as Dennis Wheeler.”

“Be that as it may,” he said sternly, “in the future I don’t expect to have to warn you again that civilians should always call the Sheriff’s Office and let us handle whatever crimes you wish to report.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah, and be tolerated—or worse ignored. She’d gone that route before, too.

She glanced back at Deputy Schuler. “Will he ever return to duty?”

“With your testimony, I’m sure he’ll be exonerated. In the meantime, he’ll be restricted to desk duty.”

“I’m sorry Abby’s dead. I’m even sorrier that Deputy Schuler was put in the terrible position of defending himself from her. The only thing I’m glad about is that it’s over.”

“Over?” Hamilton said. “Are you forgetting the body that was found at Wood U?”

No, she hadn’t. And she wasn’t sure what she was going to do about her theory of who actually fired a gun the previous
Saturday. One thing she was going to do was to keep her mouth shut about her suspicions about Sally Casey. At least…for now.

Hamilton seemed to have finished his little speech and wandered off to talk to the other deputies. The ambulance took off and Katie opened her cell phone once again, hitting the button for the number Davenport had just given her. It rang three or four times before being picked up. “Hello?”

“Is this Sophie?”

“Yes,” the young woman said warily.

“Your dad asked me to give you a call…” Katie began.

Two brightly lit and fully decorated Christmas trees flanked Artisans Alley’s main entrance, while Bing Crosby wished everyone a “Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year” from the building’s public address system. Everywhere Katie looked, someone was laughing or smiling or spreading good cheer. The weather seemed to have broken, but it was thundershowers that had driven the party inside—not snow.

Katie examined one of the long tables laden with holiday food. As Rose had mentioned, she’d made tent cards with the names of all the dishes and who had contributed them. Edie Silver had brought her famous cheesy potatoes. Andy’s pasta salad sat next to it. There were a variety of dips sitting on ice, accompanied by bite-sized veggies, chips, and crackers, and on another paper plate sat a pile of saltines, which apparently had been Ida Mitchell’s contribution to the feast. Alongside that was a tent card for the stack of white napkins that Godfrey had supplied.

“It sure feels like Christmas in July,” Vance said from
beside a long table filled with holiday food and drink. He hoisted a paper cup filled with Gilda’s champagne punch. “Or at least it will next week when the new air-conditioning system is up and running.”

“I envy you for having so much faith that everything will fall into place and they won’t be stymied at every turn,” Katie said. To be on the safe side, she anticipated the final bill to be a good twenty-five percent over the estimate she’d been given. That was just the way things went when any kind of repair was needed at the one-hundred-plus-year-old building.

“Aw, come on, Katie—don’t go looking for trouble. This is a celebration, and goodness knows we have a lot to celebrate here at Artisans Alley,” Vance said.

“You are so right,” Katie said, and let him pour her a cup of punch, too. “Just knowing Ida has found a new vocation and won’t be in my hair on a daily basis is enough to send me into fits of the giggles.”

“I’m only sorry you had to part with all the stuff you’ve been collecting for your English Ivy Inn.”

“In a way, they’ll all get to be there anyway, and hopefully in rooms that look the way I’d planned for all along. They just won’t belong to me anymore.”

“But you are getting what you want. Beautiful things decorating a beautiful home. It’s like it was meant to be…sort of,” he finished lamely.

Katie’s smile was wistful. “I guess you’re right.”

“Sorry to eavesdrop,” Rose said, joining them at the punch bowl. “But there’s lots more than that to celebrate. The Alley’s intruder has been exposed. Shame on Godfrey for scaring us all half to death.”

“And taking our food and pop out of the fridge,” Gwen Hardy said, coming up from behind them.

“I got my Tupperware back,” Vance said, “and that pleased Janey.”

The celebration in the empty storefront was also in full
swing by the time Katie tore herself away from the Christmas cheer to visit Ray Davenport’s retirement party. Although as she’d anticipated, the parties seemed to have overlapped. The last time she’d looked, she’d seen Detective Hamilton munching Christmas cookies.

Sophie Davenport had set up large fans that roared in the background, while big band music blared from a large boom box at the back of the room. It was standing room only, with festive crepe streamers, and several easels filled with pictures chronicling Detective Davenport’s career.

Katie moseyed on up to a refreshment table and sampled one of the stuffed mushrooms from a platter of hors d’oeuvres. She felt a tug on her sleeve and looked down. Davenport sat in a wheelchair with his elevated left foot encased in a fiberglass cast. Other than that, he didn’t look too worse for wear, although the ear-to-ear grin he sported was a little unsettling.

“The kids made all the food,” he said, nearly shouting to be heard over the music and the buzz of voices.

“My goodness, they’re certainly hard workers.”

“Sophie’s been accepted at the Culinary Institute of America. She starts this fall.”

Katie savored the flavor of the mushroom’s stuffing. “Are you even sure she needs to go? This is to die for.”

Davenport positively beamed. “She takes after her mom. Rachel was a whiz in the kitchen. She’d be so proud,” he said wistfully.

“As you must be. But it looks like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree,” she said, gazing over at the beautiful inlaid wooden jewelry boxes and other objects that were displayed on the stands that had been empty the last time Katie had passed the storefront.

She helped herself to another mushroom and glanced through the shop’s big display window. She could see Nick pushing Sally in a transport chair. She was dressed in a
gaudy green-and-red Christmas sweater, with red jingle bells hanging from her pierced ears, and a fuzzy red-and-white Santa hat.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Katie told Davenport, then grabbed a napkin to wipe her fingers and headed out the door.

Elbowing her way through the crowd, Katie soon caught up with Nick and Sally. “I’m so glad you could come,” she said, but immediately noted Sally’s sallow complexion. Her fingers clutched the arms of the chair and she looked distinctly ill. “You look festive,” she said, trying to make her voice sound cheerful.

“I figured I probably wouldn’t make it until Christmas and this would be my last chance to wear such a silly outfit.”

“I didn’t think we should come,” Nick said. He hadn’t dressed up for the occasion, looking somber in his jeans and a dark green golf shirt. “Sally hasn’t felt well since this morning, and—”

“Nicholas, don’t you go spreading gloom and doom at Katie’s lovely party.”

“Is Don here?” Katie asked.

Nick shook his head. He looked like he was about to cry.

“Nicholas, would you be a dear and steer this chair over to that corner over there. I’d like to have a private chat with Katie.”

“Aunt Sally,” he began, but she held up a hand that made him immediately go silent, and he did as she asked. He turned away, and Seth appeared from nowhere, shoving a beer bottle into his hand. Katie figured he probably needed it. She pulled up a chair. She had a feeling she knew what the topic of this discussion would be.

“Sally, I think you should know that I—”

“Oh, darlin’, you don’t have to say a word. I had a feeling you’d figured it out,” Sally patted Katie’s hand and sighed heavily. “What gave me away?”

“Seth told me you used to run the skeet range at the country club. I figured you were probably familiar with and felt comfortable handling guns.” Katie shrugged. “But most of all, you love your nephew as if he were your own son. You couldn’t stand the thought of him being hurt. And when you found out that Wheeler would be Nick’s neighbor—that there was a chance he’d have to face him almost on a daily basis—you knew you had to do something. You knew Nick never would.”

“And then earlier this week I found out that the bastard had sold the shop. That he would be out of there before Sassy Sally’s ever opened.” Sally sighed. “I really did mess things up. But you know, somewhere in my own mind, I still felt like I’d done the right thing.” She took a shuddering breath. “Nicholas was not the only student that man publicly humiliated. He never physically abused my darling boy, but his words left lasting scars on him and on many other young men. Thank goodness Nicholas had such a friend as Seth Landers, and Don has been the best thing that ever happened to him.”

Voicing the words seemed to have taken a lot out of Sally.

“Wheeler was never punished for what he did. I had to make sure that he would never wound a young boy ever again. Except…I learned this morning that it wasn’t Wheeler who was in the shop. I’d never met the man, you see. I didn’t know what he looked like. The man I confronted told me over and over again that he wasn’t Dennis Wheeler, but I figured he was just scared yellah. Turns out, he had a right to be. Oh, Katie, I killed an innocent man. What am I gonna do now?”

Katie looked toward the shop and Davenport’s party. She could see Hamilton nodding his big head as he listened to someone speaking. Didn’t the man ever smile? But, considering his job, maybe he had little to smile about.

“The lead detective in the case is right over there in that room. Would you like to speak to him?”

“No, but…I’ll never rest in peace with this terrible secret. I’m just so ashamed. I never wanted Nicholas to think badly of me, and now I’ve committed the absolute worst crime. I deserve to die. And I have a feeling, it won’t be long now.”

“Oh, Sally—” Katie began, but once again Sally raised her hand to put an end to the conversation.

“You better go get that detective. Is there somewhere we can go to talk? I don’t want this whole gang of people listening to my confession.”

“Yes. You can go inside Artisans Alley. The vendors’ lounge is far away from the party. You’ll have plenty of privacy.”

“Then go get that detective so I can get this off my chest,” Sally said in a tone that would suffer no defiance.

Katie got up and again threaded her way through the partygoers. She found Hamilton, pointed Sally out, and quickly told him what he no doubt was very happy to hear. He excused himself, and she watched as he, Seth, Nick, and Sally made their way into Artisans Alley, shutting the door behind them.

The holiday music sounded crass, and Katie felt anything but merry.

Davenport was suddenly at Katie’s elbow, and handed her a glass of champagne. “Let’s party like it’s 1999,” he said and laughed.

“I didn’t know you were a Prince fan.”

“I’m not. I’ve got kids who’ve listened to the radio since they were babies. Unfortunately, I know all their songs, as well as my own.”

“I propose a toast,” she said, raising her glass. “To the success of Wood U.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Davenport said, and took a swig.

“And here’s hoping your foot heals fast, too,” she said and tipped her glass in his direction yet another time.

Davenport drained his glass, and then eyed her critically. “Was there something you wanted to tell me?”

“Yes, but not right now. Right now, let’s celebrate. Let’s party like it’s 1999.”

And so they did.

Peanut Butter Buckeyes