A Crime of Poison Page 5

  At one thirty, the temperature was a perfectly pleasant seventy-five degrees and a light wind ruffled the tent canopies. I did the barefoot test on the concrete and decided it wasn’t too hot to take Amber and T.C. with me on my next swing through the festival.

  The two critters were a hit with both adults and children, so it took a while to wend my way through all the booths. One tyke of about three asked to play fetch with Amber, so his mother and I took him up to the grassy area around the courthouse at the opposite end from Dex’s food truck. Amber put her head and shoulders down, her haunches in the air, and wagged her tail for all she was worth. Each time the little boy threw the stick we’d found, Amber bounded after it, sometimes leaping like a deer. The little boy laughed so hard, he fell on his behind. At that point T.C. pawed his head, then went to get her own smaller stick.

  “Thank you for indulging us,” the child’s mother said. “Mark will be asking for a pet again, but he’ll sleep well tonight.”

  I waved as she carried him off, then resumed my rounds. I purposely didn’t have my wallet with me. I didn’t even have a ten-dollar bill in my back pocket. If I had, I’d have been buying art and craft pieces right and left. I really was too lazy to dust a lot of bric-a-brac in my place, even though I had nearly a whole wall of built-in shelves in my dining room. I didn’t know that many people to buy gifts for either. Although . . . hmmm. Christmas was coming.

  With that thought, I allowed myself to do some semiserious browsing instead of barreling through my rounds.

  One thing I’d noted at the April festival was that the types of items were unique to each artist. There were virtually no duplications, and the few who did make similar goods priced their pieces the same as the others did. No price wars, no undercutting. The same was true now.

  Deb the Soap Lady had large bars in absolutely divine scents, magnolia being one I thought Sherry might enjoy. I loved the gardenia and rosemary mint, and put those on the list to give myself. One of the textile artists had a hand-woven scarf that was meant for Eleanor. Maise wore small pieces of jewelry, but Aster still loved her hoop earrings. Diane had both at her booth, and I debated whether to buy them from her at the festival or simply buy them from the store. Of course, they could be gone by the time I came back armed with cash. I shrugged. If they were sold before I got to them, then I was meant to buy something else.

  Finished at Diane’s booth, I looked over at Gone to the Dogs. The vendor stand featured a large, boxy stainless-steel-and-glass hot dog rotisserie. A sign reading DOGS was displayed across the top, facing customers. Two people were in line, but I saw only Cornell Lewis, not Horrible Hamlin. About that time, Amber and T.C. both pulled on their leashes, straining toward the food cart. Since they were good about letting me walk them instead of the other way around, I figured they were drawn by the aroma and let them lead me nearer.

  After the last customer in line was served and walked away, a boy about six years old dashed up to the stand. His jeans looked a little too short and his superhero tee a little too small. His wide smile revealed a missing tooth. I reined in the critters and watched.

  “Mister, mister,” he called, his chin just topping the food stand counter.

  Cornell aimed a broad smile at the child and bent slightly closer to his young customer. “Would you like a hot dog, sir?”

  The boy reached up, opened his fist, and dropped fifty-two cents on the counter. Up came the other hand, and he plopped a small plastic bag of peanuts next to the coins. Cornell wrinkled his nose and straightened.

  “Can I buy a hot dog for this money and my peanuts?”

  The vendor scratched his chin. “Well, sir, I can’t have your peanuts. I’m allergic to them.”

  The child canted his head. “What’s ’lergic mean?”

  “If I eat even one peanut, I itch something fierce, and break out in big spots, and then I can’t breathe.”

  The tyke’s wide eyes sparkled with fascination. “Wow. I better get these away from you.”

  He plucked the bag off the counter, and then frowned as Cornell pushed the coins toward him. “Does that mean I can’t have a hot dog?”

  “It means you get one for free.”

  “But why?”

  Cornell smiled down at the upturned face. “You were going to share your food with me, so I’m sharing mine with you. Do you want mustard or ketchup?”

  “Both, please.”

  Cornell used tongs to place a bun in a white paper tray and the hot dog in the bun, then made a show of carefully squirting condiments over the meat and bread. That done, he palmed a short stack of napkins.

  “There you go, sir,” he said as handed the tray to the boy with flourish.

  “Thank you.”

  When the boy started to turn away, Cornell stopped him. “Sir, you forgot your money.”

  The child waved a fistful of napkins. “You keep the change, mister. Mama says to always leave a tip.”

  He bounded off, and Cornell watched a moment before he reached for the roll of paper towels and sprayed it with what smelled like a cleaning solution. He first blotted the coins the child left on the counter and moved them aside. After that, he wiped the counter itself, trashed the paper towel, and used the hand sanitizer on the counter.

  Amber and T.C. had patiently sat on their haunches, noses twitching. Now T.C. reeeowed like a banshee, and Amber gave a sharp bark. That was when Cornell Lewis spotted them. And me.

  I saw the flash of recognition in his eyes, but he didn’t seem perturbed. He put down the cookie he’d just bitten into, and with his tone casual and polite, he said, “Hello. May I get you something?”

  Amber barked again and T.C. meowed as if saying, Yes, please.

  I stepped closer to the counter and saw that the cookies he’d bought were Maise and Aster’s snickerdoodles. The cover with their labels sat beside the plate containing only four cookies, plus the half he’d just put down.

  “I see you’ve been to the bake sale.”

  “I’ve had a weakness for snickerdoodles since I was a boy, and the nice lady sold me a whole dozen for three dollars.” He looked at the plate. “I need to ration the rest of these, but once I start eating them, it’s hard to stop. Say, I don’t suppose you let your dog and cat have sweets.”

  “They wish, but no. Thanks anyway.”

  “How about a little bit of hot dog?” He pulled one out of the cooker. “Is it all right if they have a bite of this?”

  I scanned the area, then fixed my gaze on Cornell. “Uh, thank you, but not if Dex Hamlin is around.”

  “He isn’t. He went off to have a smoke. And probably a beer. He won’t know, if that’s your worry.” He paused. “Or maybe you don’t want to accept anything from me. I guess that would be associating with the enemy.”

  “I don’t know all that happened in the past, but I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt for now. As long as you stay away from Eleanor, Aster, Maise, and Kathy.”

  “Kathy?” he echoed, brow furrowed.

  “Her mother fell down the stairs and broke her arm because of you.”

  He paled. “Oh, yes, Mrs. Baker’s daughter. I’d forgotten the child’s name. I’m ashamed I was a mess for so long, and I want to make amends, but I won’t push. I’ll be gone by Monday.”

  “You aren’t moving back here?”

  “No, I took this job hoping to reach out to some people I wronged.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “In my car for now,” he said ruefully. “It beats living on the streets, and it’s easier to keep clean than an apartment.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “I hear that.”

  “So what do you say to a few bites of meat for your pets?”

  Whether he’d found religion or not, I read regret and sadness in his eyes, and his steady, calm gaze convinced me of his sincerity. I must�
�ve conveyed some cue to T.C. and Amber, for they moved closer and did what they seldom do. Haunches down, they sat up and full-on begged.

  “They’d obviously love it. Thank you.”

  Cornell chuckled and cut the hot dog in half, then into smaller pieces. With the treats in a paper tray, he came out the back of the booth, set the food on the ground, then backed up a few steps and hunkered to watch the fur babies eat. I decided to snap a few pictures with my phone camera.

  Was I surprised the animals didn’t growl or act skittish with the man who’d been a bully? Absolutely. The critters surprised me again, and so did Cornell, when my pets finished eating and went to him to lick his hands and be petted. Yes, he had essence of hot dog on his hands, but they seemed to be thanking him, not merely copping another taste. I took two quick photos before Cornell retrieved the paper plate. I thanked him again, and he wished me a good day before returning to the food cart. No trauma. No drama.

  I was reviewing my pictures when the critters suddenly pulled me backward on their leashes. With a death grip on my cell, I spun around, off balance. In the blink of an eye, I crashed into a man, jostling his hand that held his cell phone.

  Chapter Five

  “Oh, no!” I cried as the man’s phone flew in an arc.

  We both lunged toward it, but Amber leaped and caught it in her mouth, just like she did when Eric and I tossed a soft disk for her to catch. Except the phone was heavier.

  “Good girl,” I said quickly, “but don’t bite down and don’t drop it.”

  She sat on her haunches looking proud.

  “Okay, Amber, give me the phone,” I said as I reached for it. She didn’t run off with it as she sometimes did with the play disk but delicately laid it in my hand and happily panted.

  I peered at the screen looking for damage. It wasn’t cracked, but a photo of Cornell feeding the critters, with me off to the side, showed on the display. I turned it over but didn’t see teeth marks on the black plastic cover.

  “Here you go,” I said after wiping the phone on my emporium shirt. “I don’t think my dog’s teeth scratched the screen or the case, but I am sorry I knocked into you. I hope I didn’t make you drop a call.”

  “Better a dropped call than a shattered screen,” he replied. His tone was reserved, but without heat. The average-looking guy was dressed in jeans, a red Arkansas Razorbacks polo shirt, and work boots. “Your dog saved the day.”

  “Glad she could help, and I hope you aren’t allergic to dogs or cats.”

  He shook his head but didn’t extend a hand to my critters as most people did, and while they were perfectly calm, they didn’t seek his attention either.

  I gestured at the cell. “What I mean is I’m sure there’s a bit of hair and slobber on that.”

  “It’s fine, really.”

  “I’m Nixy,” I said to make conversation. “Are you enjoying the festival?”

  “Lee Durley, and I am, but I’ve lost my sister.”

  “She’s not a small child, is she?” I asked anxiously.

  “Oh, no. I had her on the phone, but the reception isn’t great here.”

  “I’m all too aware of that. You can try Great Buns Bakery or Gaskin’s Business Center. They recently installed signal boosters that might help.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” he said affably. “So you live here?”

  “Since about six months ago. I’m in charge of the festival.”

  “Really? You’ve done a good job.”

  “Thank you. It’s our first time holding it on the square, so I was a bit nervous.”

  He smiled. “I’m only nervous about how much money my sister is spending. Her husband will have my head.”

  “Then duck,” I advised with a grin.

  He laughed. “I’ll remember. If you’ll excuse me?”

  “Of course, enjoy the rest of your day. Oh, and pig sooie.”

  He gave me a blank look, so I waved a hand at his chest. “Your shirt.”

  He glanced down. “Oh, yeah. Go, Razorbacks. Excuse me, I need to get a couple of hot dogs.”

  I watched as he strode toward the hot dog stand, wondering why he hadn’t picked up on my Razorbacks reference until I prompted him.

  Okay, so maybe football wasn’t the religion here that it was in Texas, but why wear a team shirt if you weren’t a fan?

  • • •

  After returning the critters to Fred’s workroom, where they fawned all over him, I found I wasn’t needed in the store, so I went up the block to Great Buns. I hadn’t forgotten my vow to get some pie and cake for Bernice Gilroy, so I grabbed some cash from my apartment and sped on my way. Now was as good a time as any to see what kinds of desserts Judy and Grant had available.

  I glanced over the crowd of shoppers, looking to see if Durley had found his sister, but didn’t see him. I must’ve worn an odd expression as I entered the empty bakery because Judy looked up from wiping a table and said, “What’s wrong?”

  Since the store was empty, I told her, “I met a guy at the festival.”

  “Does Eric have competition?”

  “Nowhere near. This man struck me as weird.”

  “Dex Hamlin and Cornell Lewis weird or regular weird?”

  Earlier, when I’d seen her between the breakfast and lunch rushes, I’d told her all about the ex–apartment manager’s visit to the emporium. Appalled at his nerve, and especially concerned for Eleanor and Kathy, she’d promised to text or call me if she saw Cornell Lewis so much as headed toward the emporium.

  “Regular weird. His name is Lee Durley. Does that ring a bell?”

  She looked at the faux-tin ceiling in thought, then eyed me. “I can’t place anyone by that name, so he’s not a regular customer. What’s twitching your antenna about him?”

  “He’s wearing a Razorbacks polo shirt, but when I said ‘pig sooie,’ he didn’t immediately come back with ‘Go, Razorbacks.’ He looked completely bumfuzzled, like I’d spoken Martian.”

  Judy frowned. “That is odd, especially considering the team is doing well this year. But men don’t pay as much attention to their clothes as we do. Not until they have to dress up.”

  “I never thought about it like that.” I paused. “Is it odd that he had a photo of the critters and me with Cornell Lewis on his cell?”

  “Explain.”

  I gave her the highlights of the cell sailing through the air, Amber snatching it, and me looking for damage.

  “Nixy, you know how many people here are taking pictures to post on every social media site on the planet?”

  “Hmm. I hadn’t thought about that. He could be an amateur photographer. From the glance I had, it was rather a nice human-interest sort of photo.”

  “There you go.” She gave me an evil grin. “Or he could be a spy for another festival. Maybe you should tail him.”

  I rolled my eyes. Judy had provided some key information last June when a woman was murdered, and she’d caught the let’s-investigate bug.

  “I’m too busy.”

  “Too busy to be Nixy Drew?”

  Nixy Drew was Eric’s not-so-fond nickname for me. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you about that.”

  “Hey, what are friends for if not to throw these little things in your face? Now, do you want a chocolate croissant today?”

  “Believe it or not, I’m passing on the pastry for myself, but I’m shopping for Mrs. Gilroy.”

  “Old Lady Gilroy? The woman who lives next door to Sherry Mae?”

  I chuckled. “That’s her.”

  Judy gaped. “She’s still letting you in her house?”

  “She won’t for long if I don’t feed her sweet tooth. What kinds of pies and cakes do you have today?”

  “Lorna is the one you need to see about pies. Remember my deal with her? We aren’t in that much competition to beg
in with, but we decided she’ll serve hot breakfasts, salads, and full lunches instead of sandwiches, and limit the dessert menu to pies.”

  “So you’re doing breakfast biscuits and lunch sandwiches. Hot and cold?”

  “In this weather, most customers are ordering cold. I do have cake, though. The bake sale lured a lot of my regular cake customers,” she said, walking to the display case. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I know she likes white cake with chocolate icing,” I said, keeping my drool in check with supreme effort.

  “Will this do?” she asked, pointing to a plate of two-layer Nirvana.

  I almost got two slices but settled for one large one. That ought to keep Bernice happy in case Lorna Tyler at the Lilies Café had already closed or was out of pie.

  I dropped the cake off at the emporium. Maise wasn’t thrilled I’d bought cake at Great Buns instead of asking her to make one, but I told her I didn’t want to add to her to-do list right now. She could bake whatever she liked for Mrs. Gilroy later. I did warn her I was after pie at Lorna’s place, but she merely waved me away. I didn’t know what I could do to—pardon the pun—turn her up sweet later, but I’d think on it. Fortunately, none of the Silver Six held grudges.

  Except maybe in Eleanor’s and Kathy’s cases against Cornell Lewis. And, really, who could blame them?

  I liked Lorna Tyler. Her husband, Clark, not so much. I rushed into the café, steeling myself to see him, and was delighted when I found only Lorna there. I crossed the original pine floors to where she stood at the bar, a huge stretch of oak with a beautiful patina. The bar was one of the two original fixtures dating from the late 1800s, when the building had been a saloon downstairs and a boardinghouse upstairs. Or maybe “boardinghouse” was too polite a word. The back staircase was also original, though I’m sure it had been repaired from time to time. I could easily imagine cowboys taking their ladies of the evening to a room for a little female comfort. Now the downstairs housed the Lilies Café, and the upstairs was known as the Inn on the Square.

  Lorna smiled as I approached.