One Hot Murder (28 page)

“But I already told you I need the money I make here to—”

Katie held out a hand to stop his gush of words. “I’m sorry, but your actions caused stress for a lot of people—me included. Apologizing and making things right is the very least you can do.”

Godfrey hung his head, looking thoroughly miserable. “All right. I’ll do it.”

“Good. And you can start by giving me back my pretty rose plate. The one that had the peanut butter buckeyes on it. I didn’t notice it stashed in Chad’s Pad along with all the other stuff you pilfered.”

“Uh…I kind of had an accident with it.”

Katie felt her blood pressure start to rise again.

“I was so hungry, and in such a hurry to get that candy out of the vendors’ lounge and up the stairs…” The very narrow stairs with steep treads that were easy to trip on. “That I kind of fell and…broke it.”

Not only had Katie lost her trove of treasures in the storage unit, now she’d lost one of her favorite vintage plates. That would teach her to bring in treats in anything other than throwaway plastic containers.

“Where are you staying now?”

“In my car,” he said, refusing to meet her gaze.

“When will the work be done at your house?”

“Saturday—and hopefully before my wife gets back into town.”

Katie frowned. She couldn’t let him stay in his car, but she also couldn’t risk having the Alley shut down by letting him stay there. The man had not ingratiated himself with the other vendors, so it wasn’t likely any of them would take him in. She certainly had no room in her apartment for a visitor—and he was the last person on the planet she would want as a guest. Maybe she could ask Andy…

If nothing else, though, she could offer him the use of her shower, and told him so.

“Thank you, Katie. You have no idea how terrible it feels to wear the same clothes for days. Not to be able to shower. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I sweat a lot.”

No kidding.

“Do you have clean clothes?”

“No. Everything I brought with me was in the storeroom upstairs.”

“It’s your lucky day, then. The Sheriff’s Office has decided they’re done investigating. You can go up there and retrieve your stuff and then I’ll walk you over to my apartment so you can shower. I’ll also see if I can rustle you up a place to stay until you can go back home.”

“I don’t know how to thank you, Katie.”

“Don’t cause me any trouble ever again.”

“I won’t,” he promised.

They walked back to Artisans Alley. Katie gave Godfrey the key to Chad’s Pad and told him to meet her outside in five minutes, then she called Andy.

“No!” he said emphatically. “You’ve already told me this guy is a major pain in the ass. I don’t want him as a houseguest—especially as I couldn’t be there to supervise things. I don’t want my house wrecked, too.”

“It was a buddy who ruined his house,” she said, wondering why she was defending the jerk.

“No.” The silence lengthened between them. “Are you mad at me?” he asked.

“No. I wouldn’t want the guy as a houseguest either. But I figured I should make the effort—before he’s arrested for vagrancy or something for living in his car.”

“All right. Well, I’ll see you later, then,” Andy said, and cut the connection.

Katie put down the phone and headed for the front exit. She passed several vendors on the way, but didn’t know any of them well enough to ask if Godfrey could bunk with them for a few days. She paused at the register. Rose was reading a romance novel. She placed a bookmark between the pages and closed the book. “You look like a woman with a problem,” Rose said.

“Yes, and his name is Godfrey Foster.” Should she ask Rose to let the man stay with her? She was a widow with a big empty house…Then again, she didn’t want to lose Rose’s friendship either. Still, Rose was good at problem solving.

“What’s wrong with Godfrey—besides the fact that he smells?” Rose asked.

“Seems he’s got a contractor working in his house and has been ousted for the next few days. Thanks to the damage—he had a flood—he hasn’t got the cash to stay in a motel.”

“Don’t tell me he was the one in Chad’s Pad.”

“I won’t then.”

Rose shook her head.

“Since Tuesday night, he’s been staying in his car.”

“That’s not good.” Rose pursed her lips. “Let me make a few calls. My church has an emergency fund for situations like this. Pastor Anderson may be able to come up with something to help Godfrey.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you. I’m taking him
over to my place right now to let him take a shower. We should be back in about half an hour.”

Rose nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” She set her novel aside and pulled out her purse, retrieving her cell phone. Godfrey trudged down the main staircase holding an armful of rumpled clothing. She could smell him before he came within ten feet. Would she need to fumigate the Alley and her apartment?

“Hurry,” Katie said, and led the way out the door. Several customers turned their heads sharply as they passed. “It’s not me,” Katie whispered, much to Godfrey’s chagrin.

A hot breeze assaulted them as they exited the building. Katie found herself looking at the clothes Godfrey held. “The Sheriff’s Office took one of your shirts. At the time we thought Dennis Wheeler might be hiding out in the loft.”

“I guess I can’t ask them for it back—not if I don’t want to be arrested,” Godfrey grumbled as they approached the stairs that led to Katie’s apartment.

No, he couldn’t. But then…Abby Wheeler had positively identified the shirt as belonging to her husband. Hundreds of the same shirt could have been sold in the greater Rochester area. She was probably just mistaken.

Wasn’t she?

Rose’s pastor did come through, and found a family willing to host Godfrey for the next couple of days. Of course, that wasn’t the end of his problems. He admitted he hadn’t even warned his wife of the destruction in their home. Katie was glad she would not be around when they began that discussion.

With Godfrey taken care of, Katie turned her attention to more pressing matters—closing the Alley and heading out to buy the cherries for Seth’s pie.

After she and Joan walked through the building to check
that everyone was out, Katie headed for her office to shut down her computer for the day. She walked through the main showroom to the light panel in the front of the store, threw the switches, and locked the French doors.

The dance studio was still open and Katie peeked through the glass door to see a line of little girls in black leotards scuffing across the wooden floor in their ballet slippers. The sight never failed to delight her.

Next she passed the unrented storefront the Davenport girls had tidied earlier in the day. She unlocked the door, stepped inside, hit the lights—and did a double take. The space was transformed. It sparkled. Not a speck of dust remained on the floor, and it looked as though the dingy walls had been washed. In addition to the streamers, they hung a banner that said, happy retirement, detective davenport. It looked professionally made, with a rainbow of vinyl letters and balloons. The girls had also set up tables, chairs, a buffet table, and another empty table. A small note sat on the center of the dark tablecloth. It said, “Dad’s Stuff.”

Katie frowned.
Stuff?

Had the detective won a number of awards over the years? Trophies, plaques? Were the girls going to display it to Davenport’s fellow officers and cronies?

Katie withdrew the cell phone from her pocket and hit autodial for Fred Cunningham. It immediately went to his voice mail. “Hi, Fred, it’s Katie Bonner. Thank you for renting my storefront to the Davenports for their party. They came in today to clean and now the room positively shines. After the party Saturday night, you may want to come over and take pictures to update the listing on your website. We might finally be able to move it. Thanks. Talk to you later.”

And why hadn’t she thought to clean it herself? Who wanted to rent a messy place? Now if only she had the
time to do everything else that needed to be done in the building…

Once she’d locked the door, she paused before heading for her car, and looked toward the Webster mansion. She could see debris jutting out of the Dumpster in front and wondered how much of the demo had been completed in the past two days.

Should she look?

Why not? The farm stand didn’t close until six. She had plenty of time.

The asphalt under her feet was hot enough to sauté onions, and Katie was glad she wore thick-soled sneakers. Would this heat wave never end? The forecast didn’t call for anything but ninety-plus temperatures for at least another five or six days.

Victoria Square’s parking lot was virtually empty, with just the cars of the shop owners dotting the area. The heat shimmered around her as she approached the large rectangular Dumpster. She struggled to see over the top. As Nick and Don had said, the work crew had attacked the drywall that needed removal, but they’d also cleaned up the yard. The rickety picket fence was gone, and so was all the rest of the detritus that had accumulated over the past decade. Someone had run a lawnmower over the overgrown grass and had taken a weed whacker to the rest. What a difference that small amount of work had made to the home’s appearance. It almost looked welcoming.

It’ll never be yours
, that voice inside Katie taunted.

“But it will be pretty,” she murmured aloud and actually smiled. She was making progress.

Katie scooted around the Dumpster and mounted the creaky porch steps. She rubbed a clear spot on one of the filthy windows and peeked inside. The entryway had been cleared of non-load-bearing walls, and the bones of what had once been a showplace home were now visible once
again. Would they start restoring the woodwork next? Even if she couldn’t be a part of the restoration, seeing incremental progress was nonetheless exciting.

She turned around and immediately caught sight of Wood U, looking forlorn with the yellow crime tape still attached to the front of the building, and all the windows and entrance covered in fresh plywood. What an eyesore, but then hopefully by the time Sassy Sally’s was renovated, Wood U would see a rebirth with its new owner.

Katie took a moment and sat down on the top porch step, still staring at the singed storefront next door. It might have been awkward for Nick Farrell to have to see, let alone interact, with such a demon from his past. And yet, conveniently, Dennis might now be dead. Had Nick heaved a sigh of relief when he heard about the fire on Sunday? He’d certainly been in good spirits Monday morning when Katie first met him.

Could she really consider him a suspect? Blake had started the fire, but someone had killed Dennis…or Jerry Murphy?…first.

All this uncertainty was damned aggravating.

And did she really want Nick to be implicated in Dennis’s death or disappearance? She liked him. He seemed like a nice guy. He’d been Seth’s friend for over twenty years. His aunt thought the world of him. Katie wasn’t
really
suspicious of him.

Was she?

Katie arrived at the fruit stand just as they were about to close, and even though the hour was late, the produce was still in good condition—not just the picked-over remains of the day. She bought three quarts of cherries, since Andy liked them, too. She’d stone two quarts for the pie she intended to make for Seth and one for Andy and his crew. They’d appreciate a treat, and by removing the pits, it would solve the problem of what to do with them. It would be disgusting, not to mention unsanitary, for the guys to be spitting cherry stems and stones around the pizzeria.

No sooner had she set to work than the landline rang. She was glad the phone that came with the apartment belonged to another generation. Not only did it have a long cord, but she could rest it on her shoulder and hold it against her cheek and talk while she worked—not like the smaller wireless one she’d had in her former apartment. She picked it up and resumed her seat. “Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Ray Davenport.”

“Why, Ray, you’re calling so often, people are going to start talking,” Katie said and smiled.

“Let ’em,” he grumbled. “It might improve my reputation. Listen, I’m beginning to think you’re psychic, Mrs. Bonner.”