Murder in a Basket (An India Hayes Mystery) (11 page)

I popped a carrot in my mouth. Chewing gave me time to think. I ignored his question.
“Do you have a prime suspect?”

Mains frowned, and I thought he was going to ignore
my
question. “We are looking at everyone associated with Tess, but there are some who have more motive than others.”

“
You suspect Lepcheck?”

“
You know I can’t answer that.” His tone became serious. “This isn’t like last time, India. I let you have your fun then because your brother was involved. But this has nothing to do with you or with your family.”

I felt my face grow hot. He
let
me? I silently fumed. As I recalled, he fought me every inch of the way to the point of even throwing Mark in jail.

“
I’ll arrest you if I have to.” Mains stood, squeezing my arm as he passed me. I watched him walk away, wishing my arm didn’t tingle from his touch.

As I painted faces through
out the remainder of the afternoon, I thought much more about my conversation with Mains than about Tess’s murder.

Ina
scurried back to the booth as the festival was closing. “I have great news.”

“
What is it?”

“
There’s a crafter party tonight in Tess’s honor, and we’re invited.”

“
Really? Where’s it at?”

“
Some artist co-op near Kent. Do you know it?”

“
I know it.”

The
wake—if that’s what it could be called—at New Day Artists Cooperative wouldn’t start until eight that evening. When the festival ended at five, I told Ina I was going to follow up another lead. She insisted on coming along. After a quick stop at home where I changed out of my festival polo shirt, we headed out. Ina did not change her clothes. She refused to take off her pioneer dress.

Like the co-op,
the Hands and Paws Animal Shelter was on the outskirts of town. However, it was in the opposite direction in Uniontown, a small rural community in northern Stark County, Summit County’s neighbor to the south. It was only a twenty-minute drive via the interstate.

“
Where are we going again?” Ina asked as I exited off the highway and onto a county road that didn’t amount to much more than boarded-up, forgotten businesses and a few farmhouses.

The sun was beginning to set, and I was relieved when the shelter
came into sight. There were no streetlights, and the shelter sat far back from the street. Despite my SUV’s headlights, I was sure I would have driven by it in complete darkness.

“
Hands and Paws Animal Shelter,” I said for at least the third time. “This is one of the organizations Tess planned to donate some of Victor’s money to.”

“
Why?”

“
We are here to find out why.”

I shifted the car into park. When we opened ou
r doors, we were greeted by a thousand barks.

“
Sounds like the Hound of the Baskervilles in there,” Ina said.

There was a double
wide trailer in the front portion of the property, and we could see a large modular building in back. Since that was the source of most of the barking, I assumed it was the kennel.

As we approached the tra
iler, a woman, who looked a touch older than my sister and had a long sleek blond ponytail, greeted us. “Can I help you?”

Her tone gave me the impression
the kennel was closed for the day. It was almost seven after all.

I gave her a big smile.
“I hope so. We’re friends of Tess Ross, and—”

As soon as I mentioned Tes
s’s name, the woman’s face crumpled. She stuck a hand in her jeans pocket and withdrew a tissue. Ina scurried to her side. “There, there,” Ina murmured.

Only
Ina could say such a clichéd platitude and sound sincere.

“
I’m sorry,” the woman said as the porch and security lights flicked on, apparently triggered by the twilight. “I heard the news yesterday about her passing. Her sister, Debra, called me. It’s such a terrible loss.”

“
Loss in donation for the kennel, you mean,” I said.

Shock registered on her face.
“How—how did you know?”

“
Her son, Derek, told me,” I said. “My name is India, and this is Ina. You are?”

“
Meredith Dern. I run Hands and Paws.” She looked from Ina to me and back again. “Are you police detectives?”

Before I could say anything
, Ina jumped in, “We’re of the private variety. Derek asked us to look in on the case.”

I wanted to step on Ina’s foot to shut her up, but she was out of range. She knew me well.

Meredith’s brow wrinkled. “Oh,” she said dubiously.

“
How long have you known about the donation from Tess?”

Her face reddened.
“I’m not just upset about the donation. Tess was a great lady. She even volunteered here a few times. She told me about the donation she planned to make a month or so ago. I was shocked and grateful.”

“
Why Hands and Paws?” I asked. “There are a lot of animal charities to which she could have donated.”

“
Because Victor got Zach from us about eight years ago, I think. Tess thought it was fitting to give some of Zach’s money back to us.”

I was surprised
that Victor’s dog came from a shelter. I thought mistakenly a man with that much money would have bought a dog. I liked Victor a little better, knowing he took in a dog who really needed a home. It was truly a canine rags-to-riches story.

“
What were you going to do with the money?” Ina asked.

“
Let me show you. The kennel’s out back.” Meredith shoved the tissue back into her pocket.

We followed Meredith around the trailer and into the kennel.
When we stepped into the building, a medium-sized black and white dog with floppy ears greeted us. I guessed he was some kind of spaniel-lab mix. He was a good-sized dog that came up to just below my knee. He trotted directly to me.

“
That’s Trufflehunter,” Meredith said. “He’s a doll.”

He most certainly is, I thought. I held out my hand to Trufflehunter.
“Is he up for adoption, too?”

The dog licked my hand, and his feathered tail wagged crazily when I scratched him under the chin.

Meredith nodded. “All the animals here are. Truffie is such a dear and so well trained, I let him wander around the shelter until bedtime. His owner’s house was foreclosed a few years back, and he had to give him up. It’s a sad story and all too common lately.”

The kennel was clean and brightly lit but clearly overcrowded.
There were three to four cats in a cage and even some of the dogs were double bunked. The noise from all the meowing and barking was almost deafening.

Ina immediately gravitated to
ward a cage full of five adorable striped kittens. They really were darling with their colored stripes accented by white bibs and paws. No, India, no, I told myself. It had been proven again and again that Templeton was not interested in having a new roomie, feline, canine, or otherwise.

“
As you can see, it’s tight. I have a great group of volunteers, most from a liberal arts college in Canton, but we really needed the money. We were going to use it to expand. Not only to make room for the animals we have but to bring in more. Maybe even take in farm animals in need of homes.”

Meredith showed us
the rest of the shelter, and we met more of the inhabitants. All of the animals seemed to be content even if they were cramped. As we moved through the building, Trufflehunter never strayed from my side. I was happy to see the kennel and to learn how Zach came into Victor’s possession, but it was most definitely a dead end in the case. There was no reason I could think of for Meredith or anyone at Hands and Paws to want Tess dead. Her passing left behind a lot of disappointed dogs and cats. We said our goodbyes, and I knelt, giving Trufflehunter a hug before I left the kennel. He licked me up one side of my face and down the other. He’d make someone a great pet, just not me, or so I kept telling myself.

When we were back in the car, Ina sighed.
“I could really go for one or two of those kittens. My, they were sweet.”

“
You have Theodore, remember?”

“
That’s true.” Ina chewed on her lip. “I do love Fella, and it’s hard enough to keep him in food with the amount he eats. You don’t think your brother will want him back when he gets back to Stripling, do you?”

“
I don’t know,” I said honestly. I glanced over at her. Her forehead was wrinkled with worry. I started the car. “Don’t worry, Ina, I don’t see Mark coming home any time soon. He’s too busy living his big adventure.”

Ina smiled.
“You’re right. But it would sure be hard to give Fella back, even if he’s an ornery old soul.”

Chapter
Nineteen

By the time Ina and I arrived at the co-op, the three-quarters moon and the security lights lit the way down the long gravel driveway. Maple trees marched along the drive and gathered around the gray barn like sentinels, offering up their few remaining leaves to every rustle of wind.

Ina wiggled in her seat. She
smoothed her green gingham pioneer dress and adjusted her shamrock-laden pillbox hat. “This place gives me the creeps.”

I had to agree.
There was something spooky about being out on a country road at night with no streetlights. Ina and I were both very much city girls. It didn’t help that Halloween was only a few days away.

The
parking lot was full. I parked my little SUV in the grass adjacent to the parking lot. The land the co-op was on used to be a large horse and hobby farm, and I’d visited there as a kid on school field trips to pet the goats, alpacas, and of course the horses. The animals were gone, but the barn and outbuildings remained. The weathered barn served as the co-op headquarters, just as Derek had told me earlier that day.

New Day Artist
s Cooperative opened seven years ago while I had been an art student in Chicago. I’d been back in Stripling over four years, and I wondered why I hadn’t been out there sooner if I wanted to make inroads with the artist community and establish myself as a member. It came down to another commitment. Between my job, my family, and my painting, there wasn’t enough time to do everything I felt I needed to do. But then again, maybe I just didn’t try hard enough to do everything I thought I needed to do. Obviously, if I wanted to be successful even locally, I’d have to dedicate the time. If not, I might be working for Martin much longer than I would like. The only plus side was Lepcheck was over twenty years my senior, so he’d retire first. Unless he planned to die in office like a Supreme Court justice or the pope. That was a depressing thought.

Ina
bounced and rubbed her palms together. “What’s the game plan?”

“
Try to talk to as many of Tess’s friends as you can. Find out if any of them had a problem with her or knew someone who did. Do you have the list?”

She held it up.
I’d written a list of persons of interest for each of us before leaving for the party. Ina liked the “persons of interest” title. She said it made her feel like a TV police detective. The list contained the names of the people Derek said were full co-op members. I hoped to talk with all of them that night. Also before leaving, I called my parents and asked if they could keep Zach for a few days. Luckily, I got Dad on the phone, and he readily agreed. Despite how much Dad enjoyed Zach’s company, I made a mental note to call Lew the next day to ask if he found a kennel or if he was even looking for one, which I was beginning to doubt.

The barn was a weather-beaten white-gray, but the security lights illuminated the last remnants of red paint that clung to
wooden boards like ladybugs. Intricately carved jack-o’-lanterns sat on hay bales outside the barn’s wide-opened doors. Their tiny flames flickered back and forth with the breeze. Music and cheerful orange-yellow light flowed out onto the path from the co-op. If the upbeat folk music was any indication, this evening sounded more like a square dance than a wake. From the little I knew of Tess, I guessed she would have liked that.

Inside
, I was able to appreciate the mammoth size of the building. The former horse barn had housed as many as thirty horses in its prime. Seconds after crossing the threshold, Ina took off. I hoped she’d be discreet during her portion of the investigation, even though I knew it was too much to wish for.

The place was packed. There were at least forty people m
illing around a buffet table plus the folk band in the center of the barn. I had no idea how I would find the names on my list. There was no sign of Ina. As she was five feet tall in her Sunday heels, I usually lost track of her in a crowd. Laughter and chatter floated up to the bare rafters, nearly beating the musicians in volume.

The horse
stalls had been combined into large rooms. The artists’ names were painted on the stall doors with their handicrafts underneath. Each stall was decorated by the owner, who displayed his or her craft to the best advantage. The first stall belonged to Celeste Berwyck, the beader, which reminded me I should talk to her again. Her low stall door was bedecked with colorful beads, and the inside of the empty stall had dozens of Celeste’s jewelry pieces hanging from tiny iron hooks set in a specially made grid on the wall. I suspected Jerry made those hooks for her and wondered, not for the first time, where their relationship stood.

I paused in f
ront of what had been Tess’s studio. No one seemed to pay any attention to me as I stepped inside Tess’s stall.

At the festival Tess struck me as
a bit flighty, but her studio stall proved me wrong. The space was well organized and everything was put away in its proper place. I felt bad for misjudging her. The side of the stall was lined with blond wooden cubes full of basket-making supplies. Each cube was labeled. A Pegboard of wool hung on the back wall next to the small window, illustrating the different natural dyes she used for her basket weavers. Walnut for black, indigo for blue, marigold for yellow, and finally cochineal beetle for red. Tess’s weaver tripod, many of her basket molds, and baskets were missing as they sat in the evidence room at Stripling’s Justice Center. Enough remained to tell me Tess was not only talented but loved her craft.

“
Looking for anything in particular?” a friendly voice asked.

I
turned to see a big man, built like a lumberjack, not a pillow, standing behind me. He had a Santa beard, and his thumbs were hooked in his blue suspenders. I introduced myself.

“
I’m David Berring,” he said. “I’m the papermaker here and president of the co-op. Are you a friend of Tess’s?”

I
nodded. I did consider her my friend in a way.

David Berring
. He was one of the names on my list. I smiled wide.

“
I took a papermaking class in art school. It’s hard work,” I said.

He smiled.
“That’s right. Most people don’t know that. Making paper the old-fashioned way is labor intensive. So you’re an artist then?”

“
A painter, mostly oil and acrylic. Watercolor for a commission.”

That made him smile a second time, and then his brow wrinkled.
“I thought I knew all the local artists in town. What did you say your name was?”

I told him again.

“Are you related to Lana Hayes?”

I inwardly sighed.
“She’s my mother.”

“
She never told me she had a daughter who was an artist. I’ve met her at different events in town. She’s . . .” He paused as if searching for the right word. “Passionate.”

I grinned.
“That’s true.” I stepped out of the stall. “I’m still working on my career, building up a following. That and juggling a day job until I can strike out on my own.”

“
I know what that’s like. It took me a good fifteen years before I could walk away from my desk job. The day I did was the best day of my life.”

“
Actually, I’m interested in the co-op. I’m just noting the members’ names, so that I can speak to them to find out how it all works. What do you have to do to join an organization like this? What are the benefits, that sort of thing? I understand there are different types of membership.”

“
That’s right. We have seven full members—well, six now, with Tess’s passing. The full members are like partners in a law firm. They have full voting rights on all the co-op decisions and approval of any new projects. Right now, we don’t have any apprentice members, but those are artists who are petitioning to be full members. We require they be an apprentice member for two years before becoming full members. We want to know they are committed to the co-op. Finally, we have a revolving door of ten to twelve artists at a time who work on special commissions with us or rent studio space in the barn for a short while.” He blushed. With his red cheeks, he looked even more like St. Nick. “That’s probably much more than you wanted to hear.”

“
Oh, no,” I insisted. “I’m very interested, and it gives me an idea of the commitment required in case I decide I want to pursue joining a co-op.”

“
I’d be happy to meet with you sometime to tell you more.”

I thanked him.
“You mentioned there are six full members in addition to Tess.”

“
That’s right. There’s myself, Celeste Berwyck, AnnaMarie LaRue, Ansel Levi, Carrington Snowden, and Jerry Ross, who is Tess’s husband.”

The names David rattled off matched Derek’s list perfectly.

I nodded. “I’ve met Jerry. Is he here tonight?”

“
I saw him earlier but didn’t get a chance to talk to him. I haven’t seen him since. He’s taking it hard.”

“
I’m sure he is. The whole co-op must be taking it hard.”

David’s bright face drooped.
“We’re all still shocked at the news. In the co-op we’re like family. It was like losing my sister, truly.”

“
I’m so sorry. My booth was right next to hers at the Founders’ Festival. It was a surprise when I learned what happened to her.” I didn’t share that I’d found the body.

“
We’re all having trouble absorbing it.”

“
Do you know why anyone would want to hurt her?” I hoped I sounded casual.

He cocked his head as if he thought the question was odd.
“None at all. Like I said, we all loved Tess. Jerry mentioned once they were in the middle of a row with her family, but I don’t know the particulars. I’m guessing her death was a random thing, some crazy walking the campus at night. Stripling’s not as safe as people want to believe. Nowhere is.”

“
Maybe,” I said, but I didn’t think so. Whoever killed Tess knew her. I’d bet on it. Derek said she was meeting someone on the festival grounds that evening.

“
Painting booth?”

“
Huh?”

“
You said you have a booth at the festival. Was it a painting booth?”

I nodded and didn’t tell him it was face painting.

“Well if you want to learn about the co-op, you’ve come to the right place. I’m not just the co-op president, I’m also a founder. I’d be happy to show you around and introduce you to folks.”

“
That would be great, thanks.”

I was about to follow David and be introduced to the other co-op members when Ina appeared
at my arm. She plucked on my sleeve. “I need to talk to you. Now.”

I gave my excuses to David.

Ina pulled me into the weaver Ansel Levi’s empty stall. “He’s here.”

“
Who’s here?”

“
The jaywalker.”