Chapter 5

A home stager knows what helps to get a house sold fast.

The next morning after church, I waited for Nita at Vocaro’s Coffee Bar, where we met most mornings and she read our horoscopes. None of the horoscopes came true, but since she enjoyed reading them, I listened and attempted to sound interested. She was running late that morning. I’d asked Aunt Kit if she wanted to join us, but she said she planned to relax in my hammock and read a new release by Cindy Brown, whose humorous mysteries featured a different Broadway play.

As I sipped my cappuccino and waited for Nita, I spotted Warren Hendricks coming in and waved at him to join me. I hadn’t talked to him since the tragedy at his place, and I was curious about what he knew of the man we’d found there.

As Warren approached, I noticed how unlike himself he looked. His usually neat hair was standing up from his head in spikes. And instead of the immaculate somber suit he wore during the day, he had thrown on jeans and a sweatshirt with a logo that had long since faded beyond recognition. At one time it might have said Penn State.

“Hey, Warren, take a seat. I’m sorry about what happened at the funeral home.”

Warren pulled out a chair, turned it, and straddled it, facing me. “I’m surprised you want to be seen talking to me.”

“Why ever not?”

“Since I’m being considered for the role of villain in Ian Becker’s murder.”

In addition to operating the funeral home, Warren directed the Louiston Players, our local community theater group. He could be every bit as dramatic as any of the characters he directed.

“I don’t think Detective Spangler is going to consider you involved in the murder just because it occurred at your place. Besides, what motive could you’ve had? Did you even know Ian Becker? Was that his name?

“Yeah, Ian. He used to spend summers here in Louiston with his aunt, and we hung around together. I was two years older, but we got along okay. The last summer he came was about twenty years ago. I remember it because it was the summer before my last year of college.”

“And you haven’t seen him since?”

“No. After that summer, his folks moved the family to New Zealand, and that was the last I heard of him—until he called me on Friday. Quite frankly, I was really surprised to hear from him, especially after so many years. He said his aunt had died, and he was in town to help settle her affairs.”

“Who was his aunt?”

“Doris Becker. We handled her burial. I thought he might be calling about that and told him his aunt had made all the arrangements and set money aside for it years ago, so her estate didn’t owe us anything. But he said he wanted to come by and say hello for old times’ sake. With his parents traveling so much when he was a kid, he’d spent a lot of summers here. Louiston probably felt more like home to him than any place.”

“That’s so sad.” I thought about him lying on the floor at the home and shuddered.

“And weird. He comes back here after twenty years, and as soon as he walks into my place, he gets murdered. And with his wallet gone and no other ID on him, if I hadn’t recognized him, the police might have been unable to identify who he was.”

“Did anyone else know he was meeting you at your place?” I was starting to sound like Detective Spangler.

“That I couldn’t tell you. We made arrangements to meet at the home at noon. I told him to come for lunch—that I’d get us hoagies. He used to love them, and we ate a lot of them that summer. I figured he probably hadn’t had a good one since moving to New Zealand and thought it would be a treat for him. I went to get them just before noon.”

So that’s what Warren had in the bag he dropped when he saw the body—hoagies? “Where did you get them?”

“Johnny and Kathleen’s. Their salad on the hoagies is the best.”

“It is.” Just the thought of the foot-long bread roll filled with Italian meats and cheeses and heaped with lettuce coated in the best salad dressing in the state made me hungry. “Could someone there say they saw you and when?”

“I doubt it. The place gets busy, and I don’t go there very often these days. Someone might remember I’d been there but not what day or time.”

“Detective Spangler and his team will check it out. How long were you gone?”

“About twenty minutes. I hadn’t planned to be away long, so I didn’t lock up, especially since I’d told your group they could use the restrooms. I didn’t want you to find the doors locked and think I had forgotten. Also, I’d told Ian that if I wasn’t back by the time he got there to go to my apartment upstairs. He knew the way. We planned to eat lunch there.”

I took a sip of my now-cold coffee. “Do you have any security cameras near the entrances to the home?”

Warren shook his head and laughed. “People aren’t usually dying to get into the funeral home. Sorry. That wasn’t the best way of expressing that. People breaking in hasn’t been a problem.”

“Too bad. A camera would have shown who entered and left,” I said. “Since Ian’s wallet was gone, robbery was probably the motive. But why stab him in the back?”

“Maybe to keep Ian from identifying him. It’s all so strange. I’m not convinced the police are thinking it was simply a robbery. That’s why I’m worried they’re looking at me as a suspect.”

“But what motive could they think you had for killing him? Especially since you haven’t seen him for so long. Could he have been involved with someone’s wife or girlfriend that last summer he was here and that person wanted revenge?”

Warren shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like Ian. And who would want revenge after so many years?”

“Don’t they say revenge is a dish best served cold? Or could he have been here long enough this time to cross someone? It doesn’t take some people long to get into trouble.”

“He said he’d only just arrived in town.” The corners of Warren’s mouth tightened. “Why are you so interested? You aren’t planning to get involved are you?”

“Definitely not. You know me, Warren. I’m intrigued by a mystery. That’s why I read mysteries over other novels. I love trying to solve a puzzle. Someone in this town murdered Ian. Doesn’t it drive you crazy thinking it could be someone we know?”

Since Warren seemed to relish being in the police spotlight, I didn’t say what I was really worried about. With Nita being the one to find Ian’s body, Detective Spangler might also consider her a suspect. Worse, Nita walked in just minutes after the stabbing. Could that person have seen and recognized Nita and wondered if she saw him commit murder?