Murder on the Ol' Bunions (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery) Read online

  “He’s at our house right now tuning the piano. Sounds like you’ll need to be asking him some questions.”

  Chief rubbed his jaw. “I’ll get Officer Simpson over here to help me get all those boards off first. Whoever nailed them up must have used an entire box of nails. Then I’ll find Payton and ask him a few questions.”

  I headed for the door, thinking of my simmering sauce and wondering if Payton would be done with the piano yet. I had a few questions of my own.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Hardy trotted along beside me in a huff over what I’d done at Marion’s. Let him huff. He could puff and blow the house down, too, and I’d say he got what he deserved. Ornery critter.

  I tried to adjust my hose by pulling on them through the fabric of my dress, so my legs wouldn’t rub so bad. They burned like fire. But I hoofed it back to the house in record time. Payton’s little subcompact—yellow, if you can stomach the thought of that—glowed in my driveway for all to see and be blinded by.

  Satisfied I’d have my say, I went in the side door, gave my sauce a stir and turned off the burner. Hardy pooched his lip out at me and headed up the steps. I let Hardy pout and headed toward the living room. Payton leaned into the front of the piano as he hit a key and cranked his little tool thingie back and forth.

  I took a seat in the armchair I’d been in earlier. “Was over at Dana’s the other day. She was complaining that her Steinway didn’t sound tuned even after you’d tuned it.”

  Payton froze, his elbow locked in mid-crank. His posture radiated shock. Ever so slowly he straightened, lowering the tool. He met my gaze.

  The pattern of his clothes seem to gyrate and throb as he plunged his hand into his bag and dug around. In seconds he had gone from a genial piano tuner to a stranger. His movements became jerky and a line of perspiration broke out on his forehead.

  I decided to push further. “You know what else? Chief let it loose that he found a secret room in Marion’s store. You know about that?”

  “No.”

  But his answer held definite bite. I had struck a nerve. I feigned acceptance of his answer and got back on my feet, delighted at the obvious distress I’d stirred in the boy. “Well, I’m guessing you don’t need me here buzzing around your head. I’ll go check my spaghetti sauce.”

  In the hallway, out of sight of Payton, I allowed myself a smile, while forming the questions I would ask in my next attack.

  Within minutes, Payton yelled out.

  “I’m all done. I’ll send you the bill.”

  Shocked, I set the lid back on the sauce and headed toward the hallway, but the door clicked behind him. Guess I stirred up more than my sauce. Though disappointed I’d not been able to ask him anymore questions, I knew chief was waiting for Payton at the other end. In the meantime, Hardy and I would go see Dana.

  I found Hardy in the living room going from table to table, moving magazines around, even checking the shelves of my bookcase.

  “What you looking for?”

  He stopped in the middle of the room, hands on his hips. “Where’s the diary?”

  “You had it upstairs last night.”

  “I looked up there.”

  It came to me in a flash. “Oh!” I pointed at the armchair where I’d sat and talked to Payton. “I brought it down here. Set it there when I saw Payton arrive for—”

  Hardy’s brown eyes snapped. “I think we got a thief.”

  I turned on my heel. “We can head over there and get it back.”

  “No, we can’t.”

  I spun. “And why not?”

  He tapped the crystal of his wristwatch. “Because I told Dana we’d be over at her place at three and it’s two forty-five now.”

  We stared at each other for a full minute and I knew the time had come for me to lay it out. “I’m sorry.”

  Hardy shuffled up close. “Me too. I shouldn’t have harassed you. I know how you hate me doing that.”

  “Truce?”

  “If I can have some of that spaghetti sauce.”

  “We don’t have time. I haven’t made the noodles.”

  “Then I get two blueberry pies.”

  I rubbed my hand over his head. “I can do that.”

  We bandied the questions we should ask Dana as Hardy hauled us over there in Old Lou. He recommended asking her why she rescinded her report of the diary being stolen if she hadn’t found it.

  “We’re not one hundred percent sure this is the diary,” I added. But the name on the diary matched the one in the letter, so how could it not be? “I want to know what she was doing at Marion’s shop that day.”

  “Doesn’t look like she was delivering a party invitation.”

  A chill ran through me. “What if Dana actually was the one who pushed her? If they had a real fight over Valorie’s cheating— ”

  “Don’t’ you worry none.” Hardy reached over and rubbed his hand over my knee. “I’ll be right there to protect you.”

  I didn’t feel reassured.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  As we got closer to Rolling Way, my eyes took in the townspeople filling up at the Grab-N-Go on the corner. Gotta eyeful when I saw the price of gas. But the man standing beside a hunter green sedan really got my heart to pounding with excitement.

  I leaned over toward Hardy as the turn signal clicked on and he began the turn. “No, no, go there!”

  Confused, he tried to straighten the wheel. I grabbed hold and tugged it to the right so he’d pull into the Grab-N-Go.

  “What you doin’?”

  “Mark. I want to talk to him.”

  “That’s all you had to say. No need to go jerking the wheel.”

  Granted, but I was so excited to find him and see what he knew about Marion’s store. I heaved myself out of the car and slammed the door hard before Hardy even had the car in park. Didn’t have to go far though, because Mark jogged right up to me, a wide grin on his face. Looked more relaxed than I’d seen him in a while. I quick turned my shoulders away from Mark and dug down to bring out some money, handing it through the window to Hardy.

  “I want a drink. Get yourself one, too, but make sure I get the change.”

  “You gonna make us late.”

  “Then hurry.”

  I turned back toward Mark as Hardy went off to complete his mission.

  “Your talk with Pastor went well?”

  “I came over to thank you for suggesting it, LaTisha. I admit I wasn’t real sold on the idea. Valorie’s doing a whole lot better too.”

  “She’ll grow by leaps in the next couple of years.”

  He leaned against Lou and crossed his ankles. “Guess you heard about the break-in?”

  “Heard about it this morning.” I zoomed in on his expression, making sure I didn’t miss any reaction he might have at my next statement. “Heard, too, that the police thought it looked staged.”

  The slightest crinkle of amusement played at the corner of one of his eyes, but he remained silent.

  I took the plunge. “You know about that room behind the bookcase, don’t you?”

  Whatever his reaction, I wasn’t prepared for him to slap his thigh and let loose with a string of deep laughs.

  “You’re good, LaTisha. Real good.”

  Stunned. That’s what I was. Absolutely stunned. Was this boy making a confession? Naw. Confessions meant surly looks and the possibility of physical harm to the good guy—me. I narrowed my eyes, very much aware, and relieved that the Grab-N-Go provided many witnesses in case Mark got it in his head to bash me. Hardy, too, would be right at my side, as long as he got back with our drinks in time. “You saying you did the breaking in?”

  He leaned close enough that I could smell the scent of bubble gum on his breath. “I did it.” He held a finger to his lips.

  “Whatever for?”

  “You know those articles I’m getting ready to run on Maple Gap?”

  Aha!

  “I put two and two together looking over an old
map of the town at the library. Marion wouldn’t let me in her store, but after she died, I spent quite a bit of time poking around until I found the bookcase. Good thing for me Chief didn’t let the state police lock the place down. But Valorie had no idea that I used her key and it might upset her if she knew . . . ”

  I got his meaning.

  Hardy hustled up to the car and got in, waving his hand out the driver’s side window. “Come on, we gonna be late.”

  Mark, easy as you please, walked beside me and opened my car door. He hunkered down and spoke through my lowered window. “Just so you know, I have every intention of talking to the chief.”

  Hardy put the car in reverse and Lou crept backward. Mark got the message and stood, slapping a hand on the door and waving. “Where you off to now?”

  As Hardy maneuvered Lou into drive, I hollered back, “Dana’s place.”

  Funny thing, Mark didn’t look too happy about that. I grabbed my drink and took a long pull at the straw, wondering what it meant.

  I tapped Hardy on the arm. “Where’s my change?”

  He grunted, took a hand off the steering wheel, and passed me a handful of coins and a crumpled dollar bill.

  Dana greeted us amiably enough. She offered us tea. I declined, remembering my last episode. Hardy accepted. We followed her into the living room. Hardy’s eyes fell on the Steinway like a man starved. First off, I noticed the boxes. Where few books had been before, now the shelves were completely bare, as if instead of unpacking, she was packing.

  There were no papers on her end table either. Nothing. As if the place had been stripped of everything just before our arrival. Strange. I sauntered toward the dining room expecting to see all the frills stripped away from the furniture. I was wrong. The room turned out to be completely empty. From my spot, I could see straight into the kitchen. Her cupboards, her table. There wasn’t anything. Even the door had been stripped of its thick lace curtain.

  She moved between the sink and stove, filling a kettle with water and transferring it. With her back to me, I had the advantage of watching her. She paused at the sink, hands braced on the lip, and drew in a deep breath. Then another. She reached up to the cabinet and flicked open the door and took down two of the four teacups inside. One slipped out of her grip and shattered on the floor. She stared down at it, her hair swinging to cover her profile.

  I figured now was a good time to let my presence be known. “You okay, Dana? Need some help?”

  She swung toward me looking like a trapped animal. “No. No, I’m okay. I dropped a teacup. I’ll . . . get the broom.”

  “You look like you’re packing up. You moving?”

  All the color drained from her face. “I decided the dining room furniture was too much. I . . . sold it.”

  Seemed to me she liked that furniture pretty well, being it was the only room in the house completely set up last time I visited.

  She squatted next to the cup and tried to work the broom and the dustpan at the same time. The kettle let out its first warbling whistle and she jumped, the dustpan tilting at a crazy angle.

  I tried to keep my voice light. “Lovely outfit. Is it new? Sara told me you and her mom were talking clothes this afternoon. She wasn’t too happy. Said she’d seen you in that outfit before anyway. The same day they served her meatloaf at school.” I tapped my chin as if thinking. “Tuesday I think it was.”

  Dana’s eyes darted to my face. I could feel her tense up, trying to gauge my words so she could match her responses. I went cold. Behind her expression, a malevolent force seemed to brew. If I didn’t miss my mark, Ms. Dana Letzburg was getting angry.

  The whistle of the kettle became steady. I pointed. “Noisy thing.”

  She pivoted to the stove and tugged the kettle off the burner. Not moving farther. I decided I’d better retreat a bit. “Sounds like Hardy’s enjoying your piano.”

  I escaped through the dining room, imagining I could feel Dana’s eyes burning through my back. Something clattered behind me. I kept going, feeling a real urgency to get to Hardy.

  When I went over to stand by Hardy, he raised his eyes in silent question. I patted my forehead like I was wiping sweat. He kept going, with me making comments to him out loud, hoping the chatter would lower Dana’s guard. I had pushed too hard.

  She finally came into the living room. Her nostrils flared, her expression cold. No teacups or silver service. Hardy caught sight of her and stood up. “Your piano still isn’t sounding real good. Maybe old Payton is losing his touch.”

  “He’s had a lot on his mind lately.” She leaned against the doorway.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Read in the paper where you’d reported a theft. Was that the diary you and LaTisha talked about?”

  “Yes.”

  “Chief was talking to me and LaTisha about that. He said you said you’d found it. Funny thing.” He rubbed his jaw. “When LaTisha brought her boxes inside the other night, we found an old diary on top. You think it’s the one you lost? Or maybe it’s the one you found?”

  “No, it’s the one I found, Hardy.” Payton shouldered his way through the doorway, diary in hand. Dana straightened and moved aside, relief sliding across her face.

  “So you did find it.” Hardy cracked a grin. “LaTisha declared she laid it down somewhere in the living room, but when she got home it wasn’t anywhere to be found.”

  Nothing seemed right about this scene. When had Payton arrived? Why hadn’t I heard him knock?

  “Well you can give me that there diary back,” I said. “Mark will be needing it to see if we can find the gold.”

  “We?” Payton’s smile stuck to his lips though his eyes held a hint of darkness. “There won’t be any we in this, LaTisha. There’s already been too much already and we’re going to take care of that tonight, with the help of this.” He held up the diary. “Then Dana and I are going to slip this town.”

  So that’s what’s up with the boxes sitting around. “What if that gold is just a legend?”

  Payton’s gaze went to Dana. “Then we’ll use the little nest egg Dana’s been working on.”

  Selling grades.

  “You gonna just leave your music store?” I could tell by Hardy’s tone that the thought of those grand pianos being left behind horrified him.

  “They’ll be picked up by the manufacturer. I’m tired of trying to make ends meet in this loser town.” He flexed his right hand. “Maybe the gold will give me a real chance at having my hand fixed to where I can play again.” His expression opened up as he smiled at me. “You’re pretty smart. You almost caught Dana and I one night. That was the night we found our secret entrance boarded up. I couldn’t believe you’d found it so fast.”

  “I didn’t find it until this morning.”

  Payton’s eyes darted toward Dana, then back at me. “Then who?”

  But his question seemed suddenly far away as my mind flashed back to that morning I found Marion dead. The shivers on my arms at the draft of air I’d felt. The bookcase. The entrance to the secret room through Payton’s store.

  Every bit of moisture in my mouth evaporated. Dana had gone to Marion’s shop that morning . . .

  Dana’s eyes were on me. “I know what you’re thinking. I didn’t know about the room until Payton told me the night Marion died. I’d called Payton over that evening to get him to retune my piano, but instead he confessed he’d taken the diary.”

  Payton gave her a hard look. “That’s enough. Let her figure it out on her own. We’ve got to get moving.”

  Hardy grabbed my hand. “Then we won’t be keeping you two another minute.”

  Payton blocked one side of the doorway, Dana the other. “We can’t let you two leave. I came over to show Dana the diary. Figured we’d have to detain you two to give us a chance to look for the gold before you did.” He nodded at Dana and she left her post and headed toward the kitchen.

  “Now don’t you be foolish, boy,” I admonished.

  “You
know, it always did hurt my feelings that you didn’t like my clothes. You should be relieved to know that I’m leaving town.”

  I heard the opening and closing of some drawers in the kitchen. Hardy squeezed my hand tight, his palm turning sweatier with each passing second. “What did you do to Marion?”

  For the first time since he’d arrived, Payton got jittery. His eyes flicked between Hardy and me. He licked his lips. “She fell.”

  “A simple fall wouldn’t kill someone like her.”

  His lips twitched and he opened his mouth. “Hurry up, Dana!”

  I felt Hardy’s hand slide away from mine. “I need to sit down,” he murmured.

  I turned as he began backing toward the armchair. A quick look at his face and I knew Hardy would head for the floor any minute. Some help he was gonna be in a tight spot, laying cold on the floor.

  When the back of Hardy’s knees hit the front of the armchair, he collapsed. I shuffled over to him. With his face tilted toward his lap, he raised his eyes at me. Uh-huh! I got his possum playing scheme. Payton came up beside me, rope in his hand and a roll of duct tape. I needed to create a distraction to give Hardy a chance to make his move. But what?

  “Move back, Mrs. Barnhart. I’ll tie Hardy up first.”

  I inflated myself until I stood as tall as Payton, and I knew I was wider. “You ain’t tying me up at all. We’ve got to get him to a hospital.” I took a step back and pulled up real hard on the rolled waistband of my hose. Change splattered all over the place.

  Payton’s eyes went straight to all the coins rolling everywhere on the hardwood. Hardy flew out of the chair and latched onto him like a rabid dog. Dana took a step in their direction and let loose a scream, turned and ran.

  “Tape!” Hardy yelped at me.

  I kicked the roll of tape Payton had dropped over toward Hardy, debating in that second whether I should go after Dana or not. She already had a good head start. Instead, I flopped down on Payton. Ripping sounds rent the air as Hardy made short work of wrapping Payton’s legs, then his wrists.