Murder Welcomes You to Buxley Page 11

  The woman looked positively murderous. I dashed back into the office and out the door. Darby had already opened the door to the back seat. I jumped in, and Jackie peeled out.

  Darby looked ashen in the front seat, but I couldn’t control my laughter as we left.

  “That was so much fun,” I said.

  “How can you say that?” Darby asked incredulously. “She was going to lie and tell the police I was behind the vandalism.”

  I couldn’t help smiling. I was sure there were better ways of finding out information, but it was a rush to run directly into the middle of a chop shop with the criminals in plain sight.

  I pushed him playfully on the shoulder and said, “Oh, she was not. They were dismantling five cars in there. They don’t want the police within ten feet of the place.”

  “Did you actually see the cars?” Jackie asked.

  “I did. When I saw George across the street, I ran in and pretended to be hiding from a boyfriend. I barged into the garage and saw the guys working. Parts were all over the place. There wasn’t any way to take a picture with my phone or I would have. The only window is a small one in a door, and it was so dirty, I could barely see out of it. I doubt we could get any pictures through it.”

  Darby pointed to a small bungalow style house with a separate garage. The garage was dilapidated, and the door was missing. A huge Lincoln Continental could be seen parked inside. Jackie pulled into the driveway.

  “I’ll wait here,” he said. “I don’t think Agnes will listen to you if she sees me again.”

  Jackie grabbed the pie box, and we walked to the front door.

  “How about letting me do the talking, Jo?” she asked. “I’ll tell her I’m from the newspaper. She doesn’t need to know which one. She might be more receptive if she thinks we’re not just butting in.”

  “Good idea,” I said. “I’ll be Susan’s attorney and threaten to sue her if she makes a fuss.”

  Jackie laughed. She knew I’d have no problem threatening a counter suit.

  Agnes Mills answered the door with a scowl. “I’m not interested,” she said and started to close the door.

  “Wait,” Jackie said. “We’re not selling anything. I’m with the newspaper. I’d like to ask you a few questions about your car accident this week.”

  She stared at us for a few moments before saying, “It’s too cold to talk with the door open. Come on in.”

  We stepped into a small foyer. Agnes motioned for us to take a seat in a living room overcrowded with furniture. Jackie and I sat side by side on an old-fashioned settee.

  Movement in a darkened corner caught my attention. A large cat jumped down from atop a tall wooden structure. Another cat jumped up onto one of the structure’s carpeted ledges. Two more cats came into the room from another part of the house. Within minutes, seven cats were in the room with us. I couldn’t help feeling there were more cats in other parts of the house.

  Jackie sneezed. She sneezed again. And again. And again. Her sneezing attack didn’t abate.

  Agnes wasn’t happy. “What’s the matter with you? Are you sick? You better not have brought the flu in here. If I end up in the hospital because of you, I’ll sue.”

  Jackie stood with her eyes watering and her sneezing out of control. She managed to eke out, “cats” as she ran for the door.

  With Jackie gone, I was at a disadvantage. I had expected her to do the talking. I held up the pie box she had set down on the coffee table. “We brought you a pie,” I said brightly.

  She frowned and asked, “How do I know it isn’t poisoned?”

  “I assure you it’s not,” I said. “I’d be happy to eat a piece if you’d like.”

  She grabbed the box and set it on a sideboard across the room. “I’m not sharing my pie with you. Why did you bring it in the first place? Is it a bribe? I won’t change my mind about what happened. That other woman ran the red light.”

  “It’s not a bribe. Jackie made it for you just to be nice. We came to ask you if you’ve heard about other accidents at that traffic light – more accidents than usual.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’ve had the light monitored, and it’s been malfunctioning. There are times when it’s yellow and green at the same time for a few seconds. That would explain why you were going through a yellow while Susan was going through a green. We thought you might drop your lawsuit once you knew what happened.”

  “Has the light been fixed?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  “Did you report it?”

  “I just found out about it.”

  She stood from her chair and walked to a table with a telephone that was an older style than my red phone. She picked up the handset and dialed a number.

  “Eddie? Is that you? … This is Agnes. Is that traffic light working properly over there at the diner? … Ok. Tell your mother I said hello.” She turned to me and said, “The light was fixed last month. Eddie says it’s working perfectly fine now.”

  “It’s not,” I said. “We had someone watching it this week. If we can get proof to you, will you consider dropping your lawsuit against Susan?”

  She seemed wary but thoughtful for a few moments. “You show me, and I’ll consider it.”

  “Great,” I said. I stood from the settee and took a few steps toward the door. “Thank you for your time. I hope you enjoy the pie.”

  We turned to look at the pie box on the sideboard. One of the cats had the lid pried up at one corner. His head was in the box.

  “We’ll enjoy it just fine,” Agnes said. “Tell your friend thank you.”

  I couldn’t help smiling as I walked to the car. Agnes was the perfect cantankerous, old, cat lady. I rather liked her, and the thought of her sharing the pie with her cats tea party style was amusing.

  Darby still looked nervous when I hopped into the car. Jackie had a small package of tissues on her lap and a bottle of allergy pills on the dash.

  “I didn’t know you were allergic to cats,” I said.

  “One or two cats in a clean environment won’t affect me, but when there’s a clowder of them and an excessive amount of dander and hair, I have an uncontrollable reaction.”

  “What’s a clowder?” Darby asked.

  “I thought a group of cats was a coven,” I said.

  “A coven is witches,” Jackie said. “A clowder is a group of cats.”

  “How do you even know that?” Darby asked.

  She put the car in gear and backed out of Agnes’ driveway. “I like words. Our editor at the paper is always changing my words so they’re easier for people to understand. I think it’s a real shame language is dumbed down so much.”

  “I for one appreciate dumbed down language,” I said. “I don’t want to read a newspaper or a book with a dictionary by my side.”

  “What did Agnes say?” Darby asked.

  “She said if we get proof to her the light isn’t working properly, she’ll consider dropping the lawsuit.”

  “Was she happy with the pie?” he asked.

  “I don’t know if she was, but the big tabby was helping himself to a slice when I left.”

  Jackie laughed, but Darby didn’t. I could tell the entire Hapsburg adventure hadn’t set will with him. I changed the subject.

  “Did you see George leave the motel?”

  Jackie nodded. “A woman came out of one of the rooms and kissed George on the cheek before she left. I snapped a couple of pictures.”

  She handed her phone back to me. I pulled up the pictures. The woman was attractive with an engaging smile. She appeared to be in her forties. It made sense George would have his affair outside of Buxley, but why Hapsburg, and who was the woman? She didn’t look familiar.

  “Have you ever seen her before?” I asked Jackie.

  She shook her head.

  “Send the pictures to my email later,” I said as I handed the phone back to her. I pulled out my own phone and saw it was nearly two o’clock.
“You’ll be a little late for porch waving today, Darby, but not by much.”

  “What’s porch waving?” Jackie asked.

  While Darby told Jackie about his enjoyment of Rita’s porch ritual, I settled back into my seat and called information for the number to the Buxley YMCA. I wanted to arrange for a pass for Susan and to schedule the court time for racquetball in the morning. Susan was going to get a run for her money tomorrow.

  Chapter Eleven

  What was with the banging on my front door? Was there a contest to see who could wake me the most times this week?

  It took a few moments to realize it wasn’t morning. After coming back from Hapsburg with Jackie and Darby, I finally climbed into bed to catch up on some sleep. My one thing had turned into several things, and my plan had been to take the rest of the day off.

  The drive back to Buxley was enjoyable. Jackie had a way of talking with people that brought out the chatterbox in them, and Darby was sharing everything he had done since coming to town. He was completely enamored with everyone and everything, and I fully expected him to say he was never leaving. His stories of his interactions with the ladies around town had Jackie snort-laughing several times. He also couldn’t stay out of the flea market and made it a point to buy something from a different vendor every day.

  I asked him if bought anything from Roger. He said he hadn’t, but Susan had bought a clown figurine. My anger at the situation surfaced again, and I went on a small tirade about the clown and how mad I was at Mama and Roger for selling our childhood items.

  It didn’t help that Hank was at the flea market when we returned. Darby took off for Rita’s porch, and Jackie went back to her office at the newspaper to talk with Harry about hiring Nick.

  I went in to talk with Arnie and found Roger and Hank unloading more boxes from Mama’s. Hank said Mama had him running back and forth all day, collecting and bringing things for Roger to sell. He wanted to know where I went with Darby, but I was too busy grabbing my entire set of Nancy Drew books and shoving them into a box to answer him. The books had belonged to Aunt Bee as a child, and I was thrilled when she gave them to me for my tenth birthday. Were all of my birthday presents destined for the flea market?

  I was cold, tired, and cranky when I climbed fully dressed into my bed a few hours ago. Whoever was banging on my door now wasn’t going to be happy when they saw how irritated I was at having my sleep disturbed yet again.

  I yanked the door open only to have Pepper scream in my face, “The flea market’s on fire.”

  Pepper’s screaming, and the strange sentence that came out of her mouth, kept my brain from processing either right away. I responded with my only logical thought at the moment.

  “What?”

  She was breathless and animated as she said, “Milly sent a text blast out to everyone on the gossip wire. The flea market’s on fire. It’s going to burn to the ground. I have to run to Chummy’s and grab Keith from a birthday party. I’m logging this as current events and safety. I’ll see you there.”

  She turned and ran to her car at the bottom of my driveway. I wanted to laugh when she fell halfway down the drive, but the seriousness of her news kept my laughter at bay.

  The old flea market had a brick exterior, but the interior was nothing but three floors of very old, very dry wood. It would burn hot and fast. This was going to be a total loss for the vendors.

  I scrambled to grab my coat, hat, scarf, gloves, and keys. I raced downtown and was forced to park four blocks away. Some streets were cordoned off. Others were simply packed from folks who had rushed downtown to watch the fire.

  The building was fully engulfed in flames when I caught my first full glance. I fought back a few tears as I approached. Memories of spending Sunday afternoons in the market when I was a child came flooding back. Books, toys, and treasures could all be had for a few quarters. One year, I begged Mama for a dog when a vendor brought in three of them. I was heartbroken when she said no. I apologized to the dog every week until someone finally bought him.

  Thoughts of Mama’s belongings burning up in the fire wrenched at my heart. They obviously didn’t mean very much to her that she would let Roger sell them to strangers, but for some reason, I had recently become terribly nostalgic about everything we had grown up with.

  I even felt sorry for Roger. I highly doubted he had any insurance to cover his loss.

  I brushed the few tears from eyes and put on my private investigator persona. If this wasn’t an accident, I wanted to gather as much information as I could.

  I made my way into the block next to the building. The heat was intense. I had never seen a fire this big before. The level of noise surprised me as walls, floors, and objects fell within. A surprising number of fire trucks from surrounding townships and cities were on the scene. It was controlled chaos.

  The nearest spectators were across the street and down a block at a filling station. I spotted Pepper, Kelly, and Keith in the crowd. Jackie was closer to the fire and taking notes as a fireman talked with her. Glenn saw me and ran over.

  “They’re not even trying to save it,” he said. “It’s all a matter of containment and keeping the surrounding buildings from catching fire.”

  I noticed the three buildings directly across the street were being deluged with water. I assumed Rita’s Bed and Breakfast on the other side of the building was being flooded as well.

  “Glenn, this is tragic. The flea market is the heart of Buxley. Any idea how it started?”

  “It’s looking like attempted murder and arson. It started in the annex at the back of the building. A couple of the firefighters were able to get in through the front before the fire spread. They found Walt locked in a bathroom and knocked out cold.”

  My mind raced with questions. Who would want to kill Walt and burn down the building? Walt didn’t have any enemies. He was beloved in town. He owned the building. Would he have started the fire for the insurance money? Did someone see him set the fire? Why would they knock him out and leave him there to die?

  A voice crackled over Glenn’s portable radio. He took a few steps away from me to respond. I was surprised to see several of the fire trucks leave. The fire was at its most intense. Why weren’t they staying to help?

  Glenn came back over. “This was definitely arson. Three more fires have been called in. Two over in Adler and one in Messer. The two in Adler were abandoned buildings, but the one in Messer is a church.” He muttered an expletive under his breath. “I’ll catch up with you later, Jo. This thing is still in danger of getting out of control, and Sarge wants me to do a walkthrough at Rita’s to be sure no one’s inside. Her place is in the most danger of going up.”

  I nodded as he took off. I noticed Jackie was now talking with Sergeant Rorski. They were still uncomfortably close to the fire. I jogged across the street to stand beside Pepper. Darby, Susan, and Rita were watching the fire with her.

  “This wasn’t an accident,” I said.

  “How do you know,” Darby asked.

  “Three more fires have been called in. Two over in Adler and one in Messer.”

  My news only made the group more solemn.

  “What a shame,” Pepper said. “All those antiques lost. There were coin dealers in there, too. I sure hope everyone had insurance.” She glanced my way and asked, “What’s Arnie going to do now?”

  “I don’t know. He’ll probably ask Parker to let him work out of the tavern for a while.”

  We watched in silence for a few more minutes. There was a mixed reaction in the crowd. A few people were openly crying. Others were pensive. Then there were those who were treating the event like nothing more than a festive bonfire. Most of the teenagers in the crowd were excited and behaving as if they were at a party. It was all very disconcerting.

  I saw Roger and Sergeant Rorski arguing across the street. This couldn’t be good. I dashed back over to them.

  “Our men weren’t in there to save your junk,” Sergeant Rorski yelled at
Roger.

  “There was time to empty out the entire front of the building,” Roger shouted back. “All these people here, and you couldn’t let any of them help bring things out into the street?”

  Sergeant Rorski’s face was beet red, and not just from being too close to the fire for a prolonged period of time.

  “Roger, come with me,” I said. “Let the sergeant do his job. There’s nothing you can do about it now.”

  “He wasn’t doing his job,” Roger yelled. “He could have saved half the stuff in there if he would have sent all these people in instead of letting them stand around and watch.”

  The Sergeant looked ready to blow. “Are you stupid? Do you hear yourself? A building is on fire, and you think civilians should go in to save your crap? You should have had insurance.”

  “I wouldn’t need insurance if you’d do your job,” Roger yelled back.

  The two men were practically nose to nose. I couldn’t understand why Sergeant Rorski had even entered into the conversation with Roger.

  The sergeant looked at me and bellowed, “Get him away from me before I arrest him for impeding an officer.”

  I grabbed Roger by the arm. “Come on. Mama must be here somewhere. I’m sure she’s worried about you. Let’s go find her.”

  I had to pull him down to the end of the block before I could let go of his arm and have him walk beside me in a calm manner. His outburst with the sergeant was mostly from anger at himself.

  “Every month,” he said, “Walt came around and told us that one day she might burn to the ground, and we should all have insurance,” he said. “I knew he was right, but I kept putting it off. Now it’s too late.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” I said. “You know full well Mama still has an attic and basement full of things to help you get started again. We’ll all chip in. I expect the town will donate items, too. You’ll see. You’ll be back on your feet in no time.”