6 Murder at the Art & Craft Fair Page 8

  I walked around his tent, checking to see if it had been ripped. It looked fine to me. I thought maybe if he had sold out, or almost sold out of merchandise, and his tent had been damaged in some way during the night, he might have gone home and abandoned his tent. I contemplated what to do.

  “Cy, you’re a policeman. Why don’t you unzip his tent, see if his merchandise is still there?”

  I looked at my watch. It was 3:22. Should I wait a few more minutes to see if he returned or check out his tent. Lou and Thelma Lou were still looking at merchandise. I decided to wait a few more minutes, at least until they joined us.

  Jennifer and I walked over to an unoccupied bench and took a seat. Lou walked over to see if we were in a hurry. I looked at Jennifer. She shook her head “no.” Before Lou rejoined Thelma Lou I told him about the puzzle guy. Lou too thought it was strange that he hadn’t opened for business.

  At 3:46, Lou and Thelma Lou seemed to have revisited all the booths they planned to see and walked over to join us. There was still no puzzle guy. I told Thelma Lou to keep Jennifer company and motioned for Lou to come with me, just in case Tom Kincaid showed up while Lou and I were rifling his tent.

  We approached Kincaid’s tent. I bent over to unzip it, something that would have been much more difficult for me before I started Wiiing regularly. I unzipped the tent to the top, parted the panels, and stepped inside. Much of Kincaid’s unsold merchandise lay strewn upon the grass. So was Kincaid, with his head bashed in, maybe by one of his own creations. I stood there for a moment surveying the situation, and remembered something that Kincaid had said the day before. There weren’t puzzle pieces strewn here and there. Every puzzle, including those that had taken a fall, had held together. I guess they held up a lot better than Kincaid did, because I was sure that the murderer didn’t take time to put any of the puzzles back together. At any rate, date time was over. It was time to go to work.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I stuck my hand through the opening in the tent and motioned for Lou to join me inside. He stepped in and checked out the situation. We hovered near the door, neither of us wanting to contaminate a crime scene. More than likely, if there was any evidence outside the tent, it would no longer be helpful to us. I scanned the inside of the tent, looked at the grass and the wooden puzzles to see if I spotted anything that might be construed as evidence. From the look of the back of Kincaid’s head I could tell that someone had walloped him pretty good. I doubted if he fell and hit his head on a table and knocked everything off. Well, he might have, but if he did, the impetus of whatever struck his battered head propelled him toward his resting place. Some of his creations remained on the table. In time, we would check those, too, but Lou and I weren’t about to do anything until after we had alerted Frank Harris, the medical examiner, and he and his crew had arrived and gone over the entire area within the tent.

  Lou and I stepped out as if nothing had happened. I rezipped the tent and the two of us walked over to the girls. I asked Thelma Lou if I could borrow her phone and called Frank while Lou quietly explained to the girls what had happened.

  “Time to go to work, Frank.”

  “Oh, are you finally going back to work, Cy?”

  “I’m afraid so, and so are you.”

  “Cy, don’t you know that no one’s supposed to bother a medical examiner on the weekend?”

  “I know that, but bodies get ripe after a while, and someone forgot to tell the murderer that you and I like weekends off.”

  “Weekends off? I thought you were off seven days a week.”

  “I am, until someone decides to curtail the population a tad.”

  “Okay, Cy. What have you got?”

  I explained to Frank about the murder. I gave him exact directions as to the part of the park where Kincaid’s tent stood. I shared with him the particulars about the art and craft show, told him the show was about over, asked him whether he should come on with his team or wait until things cleared out.

  “Any idea how long he’s been dead, Cy?”

  “That’s supposed to be your field of expertise. Can’t say for sure, but at least five and a half hours. I’d say even more. There’s a good chance it happened last night.”

  “And you say he’s inside a tent, the tent is zipped up, and no one knows about it.”

  “Well, at least one person knows about it, but my guess is no one but the murderer knows about this.”

  “And you don’t think anyone’s been inside the tent all day?”

  “No one except Lou and I, and we just barely stepped inside. Soon as I saw the body I scanned the area from where I stood, but I didn’t go any farther, and I didn’t bend over the body and check him out. Looking at his head from where I stood, I’m sure he’s dead.”

  “I don’t think a few more minutes will hurt anything, Cy. But I want to do as much as we can before dark, so I won’t waste much time getting there. Just make sure no one enters that tent.”

  I ended the call with Frank, returned Thelma Lou’s phone to her, and turned to Lou and let him know it was time to go to work. We walked back to the woman who occupied the tent next to Kincaid’s. It was time to talk to her some more.

  As I approached her tent, I looked at her name for the first time. Joan Arrington, Salt and Pepper Shakers, Danville, Kentucky.

  “It’s me again. I assume you are Joan Arrington.”

  “In the flesh.”

  “And you make salt and pepper shakers?”

  “Well, let’s just say I have some help. One of my brothers makes the wooden ones. Another brother makes the ceramic ones. I give them ideas of ones that I think will sell. Plus, I paint or varnish the shakers after my brothers get through with them, so I guess you could say it’s a family project. Neither of my brothers wants to do what I’m doing here, but I love it, as long as I don’t have to do it every weekend.”

  “And you do a good job. Is it Miss or Mrs?”

  “Mrs. I’m a widow, but you can call me Joan. Most people do.”

  “Okay, Joan. And you can call me, Lt. Dekker,” I said as I showed her my I.D. “What I want to ask you now is in an official capacity.”

  “Did something happen to Tom?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, you were asking about him before, and he hasn’t shown up today.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “Last night, as I was closing up to go back to the motel. He helped me put down the sides of my tent. See, the tent is taller than I am. He saw me struggling and offered to help.”

  “And you haven’t seen him since that time?”

  “No, I saw his truck and trailer this morning at the motel, but I haven’t seen him since I left here last night.”

  “Who left first? You, or Tom Kincaid? Or did you leave at the same time?”

  “Here last night or the motel this morning? In either case, I left first. While Tom was helping me with my tent, he got a late customer.”

  “Man or woman?”

  “Man.”

  “Anyone you recognized?”

  “It was starting to get dark, but I don’t think it was anyone I know. Tom seemed to know him, though.”

  “Did they seem to be getting along okay?”

  “Yeah, from what little I could gather from their conversation the guy had bought puzzles from Tom before, and came to get another puzzle from him. Tom invited him inside the tent and they continued talking. I could see that he might be tied up for a while, so I left them alone, went on my way.”

  “And who else was still here when you left?”

  “I’m not sure. I think the guy on the other side of Tom was still here, and there might have been one or two others, but I don’t usually pay attention to stuff like that. I leave when I’m supposed to. There hadn’t been any customers by in ten or fifteen minutes and it was going to be dark soon. I wanted to pick up a pizza, go back to my motel room and enjoy it. And that’s what I did.”

  “How close
was your room to Kincaid’s?”

  “There was one room between us.”

  “Did you hear him come back last night?”

  “It’s possible I heard his truck. At least someone pulled up and shut a door that sounded like a truck, probably about thirty to forty-five minutes after I got back. It was dark. I didn’t look out to see who it was.”

  “Is there anyone you can think of who Tom had problems with, either this weekend or before?”

  “What kind of problems?”

  “Disagreements. Any kind of problem.”

  “Well, I’ve already told you that the guy next to Tom got hot because he thought Tom bumped against one of his tables when Tom was setting up his tent, and knocked off some merchandise. Evidently, the guy had already set up and left, and when he came back yesterday morning he found some of his merchandise on the ground inside of his tent. Tom said he didn’t do it, but I don’t know. I wasn’t here at the time.

  “Then later yesterday Tom got into it with a couple of guys. First, there were a couple of boys running around. They weren’t watching where they were going and one of them ran into Tom’s tent and knocked some of his puzzles off the table. Tom grabbed that boy by his shirt collar, yelled at him and scared him. A few minutes later, some man who claimed to be that boy’s father came charging into Tom’s tent, grabbed Tom by the collar and lifted him up out of his chair. Tom knocked the man down. The man got up and charged back into Tom’s tent, knocked Tom back against one of his tables and some more of his puzzles fell off. Didn’t hurt any of them, but Tom was hot. He got the best of the guy again. The second time the guy got up someone who knew him grabbed him and escorted him away. He called Tom a few names when he left, said he would be back.”

  “Then, later there was this guy who bought one of Tom’s Empire State Building puzzles yesterday. He brought it back, wanted his money back. Tom asked him what was wrong with it. The guy said, ‘Nothing. I just decided I want to buy something else instead.’ Tom told the guy he should have thought about that before he bought it, and he refused to give the guy his money back. The guy threatened Tom, acted like he was going to hit him with the puzzle. He kept hollering and threatening Tom for a good minute. Finally, he left when Tom threatened to call the cops.

  “That’s all I can think of this weekend. Of course there’s Johnny Delmont, the sculptor, who’s said many times that Tom stole the idea of making puzzles from him. He and Tom haven’t gotten along in years.”

  “Is Delmont here this weekend?”

  “Yeah. I’m not sure where his booth is though.”

  “Do you know the name of the guy who was set up next to Kincaid?”

  “No, but Maureen Eidorn will. She’s the one in charge of the booths. She might be at the information booth now. If not, they can find her for you.”

  “Speaking of the people who run this event, do you know how Kincaid got along with them?”

  “As far as I know, fine. I never heard him say anything negative about this place or the way he was treated. He’s been here a few times. I think he’s always done well here, and he keeps coming back.”

  “What about the two guys who threatened Kincaid? Any idea who they are?”

  “One of them. The guy who bought the puzzle and tried to return it. He gave me a check. Hold on a second.”

  Mrs. Arrington turned around, reached under a table, and pulled out a cash box. She opened it and looked through a series of checks.”

  “Yeah, here it is. Earl Clements. He’s local. You know him?”

  I didn’t, but then I don’t know everyone in Hilldale. Unless they work for the police department, murder someone, hang out at Scene of the Crime, or go to the same church I do, I don’t know them. But then I don’t even know all of the people at my church, or most of the people who purchase books from Myrtle Evans. I asked to see the check. She handed it to me and I jotted down Clements’ address. I wondered if he had found a use for his Empire State Building. I’m sure he knew people heard him threaten Kincaid, so I doubted if he was dumb enough to follow through, but then I’d seen dumb people murder before.

  “No idea who the other guy is? The father of that kid?”

  “No. I don’t remember him stopping in my booth. At least he didn’t look familiar, but then we’ve had a few thousand people walk by this weekend. There’s no way any of us can remember them all.”

  “What about this woman you said does a lot of shows with Kincaid? Did she get along with him?”

  “Lois. She gets along with everyone.”

  “Have you ever had any problems with him?”

  “No, but then you have to remember, Lieutenant, we don’t have the same set up for each event. Two vendors might be side-by-side at one event, and may not even see each other at another show they both do. This is the first time I’ve been beside him, although we’ve known each other a while and talk to each other when we run into each other at a show. I’ve never had any problem with him. He seems kind of like a loner, but then we talked a few times yesterday when neither of us had anyone in our booth. I’ve been to other shows where our tents were close enough together that we’d see each other, wave at each other, maybe talk a little bit if things were slow. I’ve never seen him have any problem with anyone else except for this weekend.”

  “Anyone else you can think of who might have had something against him?”

  “Nobody I can think of. Lieutenant, did someone find him dead in his bed at the motel?”

  “Why do you ask that? And why do you think something happened to him at the motel?”

  “You wouldn’t ask all these questions if he was all right. And his truck and trailer were still there this morning after I left. And he never showed up here after I got here, and I came right here this morning.”

  “But the motel is only three blocks away. Maybe he walked here yesterday.”

  “He didn’t walk here. His truck and trailer were right here yesterday. See, Tom sells a lot of puzzles. He stores extras under his tables, hidden by the tablecloths, but some of his bigger ones, like the Empire State Building, are too high to set under the table, and he can only lay down so many of them. He went back to the truck twice yesterday, took his wagon to get a couple more at a time. He asked me to watch his booth while he was gone. Vendors do that for each other, like when their next-door neighbors need to make a restroom trip or a food run. He watched mine for me a couple of times yesterday.”

  Until then, the fact that the murdered man was one place and his truck another hadn’t registered with me. Had he been murdered later than I thought? Was his murderer another vendor who stayed at the same place, someone who drove Kincaid’s truck back to the motel? That didn’t make any sense. Why would someone do that? Could it be that this Clements guy drove Kincaid’s truck back to motel and walked home, trying to cast suspicion on one of the vendors staying at that motel? Or could Kincaid’s wife have come with him without any of the vendors knowing about it? He said they didn’t get along that well. Did she hate him enough to murder him?

  I turned and asked Joan Arrington another question.

  “Is it possible Kincaid’s wife came with him?”

  “No, he was alone. We got back to the motel at the same time Friday night. There wasn’t anyone with him, no one else in his room.”

  “How do you know?”

  “We stood in his doorway talking for a few minutes. I could see inside his room. There was no one in it. Not even a mouse.”

  “Could his wife have come up later?”

  “If so, she never stopped by here. Even though I’ve never met her, I would have known if she had shown up sometime yesterday or today. She didn’t.”

  I needed to talk to a lot of people; the woman in charge of the event, someone at the motel, someone back in Kincaid’s hometown to find out if his wife was there, and if so, to inform her about his death. But I also needed to talk to some of these vendors before they got away. I looked around. Some of them were beginning to pack up. The show
was over. At least their show was. Mine was just beginning.

  I was about to tell Lou I needed for him to guard the tent until Frank came, when I looked up and saw my friend the medical examiner swinging his arm as he walked toward me. I saw his minions behind him. The festival was about to take on a different aura. Frank was about to go to work on the body. Lou and I were about to go to work on the suspects. Maybe Frank would learn something to make our job easier. Maybe the murderer left a confession in Kincaid’s shirt pocket. Well, I can always hope.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I greeted Frank and let him know where he was to get to work. I didn’t need to tell him what to do. Frank was as good at his job as I was at mine. I told him that Lou and I had some people to talk to and that we would be back before he finished. He was sure of it. It would be quite a while before Frank finished, even though most of his work at the scene of the crime would be confined to a ten by ten space. If Joan Arrington didn’t already know where Tom Kincaid lay, she would soon find out. So would a few others when someone draped the yellow crime scene tape around Kincaid’s tent. Of course one of those people I would be talking to already knew about the late Mr. Kincaid. I just had to figure out which one.

  The first people we had to talk to were Jennifer and Thelma Lou. After consulting with Lou, we agreed that what would be best would be for Thelma Lou to drive Lou’s car back to her place. We told her we would be available for dinner as long as a late dinner was fine with them. It was, and Jennifer loaned us her phone so we could call them after we finished at the crime scene. She would return to pick us up.

  I needed to talk to a lot of people, but the ones that it was more urgent that I talk to were those who were at Hilldale City Park, but not spending the night there. I headed to the Information Booth to find out what I could about a few of the vendors, mainly their location. I planned to visit briefly with each of those vendors, let them know who I was, and let them know that they weren’t to leave the premises until after I talked to them.