Chapter 29
Jim went out to talk with Wanda, having said he’d keep an eye on the door to make sure nobody else got in. I made another, even closer sweep of my apartment, but I still didn’t find anything missing. I headed back to the party, this time making sure I locked the door after I closed it. Jim waved to me from across the room, where he stood with Wanda and Roy. By the time I waded through the crowd to them, Wanda held Roy firmly by the elbow.
“Robbie, are you willing to make a statement Roy Rogers unlawfully entered your apartment and took up a position of concealment?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Are you missing anything? I can add charges of larceny.” Wanda looked almost excited about the prospect.
“Nothing’s missing. Not that I can tell, at least.”
Roy struggled. “The door to her apartment was open. I was only curious.”
Wanda strong-armed him and gave him the stink eye. “Roy, do I have to cuff you right here in front of the whole town?”
He glared at me, but he stopped resisting Wanda’s hold. She walked him out the door.
The place was still bustling with partygoers, although the food was pretty much decimated. I snagged a forlorn quiche and downed it, then grabbed one of the last brownies. Luckily, the wine was still flowing. I poured out a cup of red and took a blessed sip, savoring the warming feeling as it went down. I gathered up a couple of plates and took the food refuse to the compost bucket, which was full.
Setting down my wine, I carried the bucket out the service door, letting it swing closed behind me, relieved to get out of the hubbub for a brief moment. I stopped when I sniffed cigarette smoke. Don’s voice followed. Glancing over my shoulder, I realized he stood directly on the other side of the six-foot-high fence, which shielded the service area from the street.
“I saw you. I saw you drive up that afternoon.”
“So what? It’s a public street.” Ed’s voice, no longer sounding drunk.
“I kept watching. You went into her house.”
My eyes sprang open so far, I thought my eyeballs would pop out. Don was talking about Stella. Silence for a moment, and then a noisy inhale, followed by another waft of smoke.
“We used to go out, long time ago.”
“That’s not why you visited her, and you know it. Did you kill her?”
“Of course not. For alls I know, you knocked her off.”
Don made a tsking sound. “Of course I didn’t. Why would I?”
“Well, why would I?” Ed said with scorn.
“’Cause she was blackmailing you, just like she was soaking half the rest of town. What’d she have on you, huh? That you cheat on health inspections? That you molest girls?”
“Don’t you even say it!” Ed was almost growling now. “You’re the one who attempted murder some years back.”
My nose tickled with a sneeze coming on. There could be murder attempted on me if I didn’t get back inside—and quick. The compost could wait. I slipped back into the kitchen and managed to wait until the door closed before letting loose with a major “Achoo!”
I scanned the room for Wanda, until I remembered she’d taken Roy away. I stepped back into my apartment and left a message for Buck about what I overheard, then I headed back into the fray.
At ten before eight, Corrine whistled again. “Ten minutes to outbid your rivals, people,” she announced in a voice that overrode the murmur of conversation, the clinking of beer bottles, even the Beatles songs Georgia was picking out on the piano with a small cohort of fans gathered around her, singing along.
Almost everybody in the room dutifully wandered over to the donation table. I was intrigued by the prospect of banjo lessons with Abe. On my way to the table to see what the bidding was up to, I passed Ed, who was slouched in a chair alone at the table, a bottle of water having replaced the one of whiskey. He wore the pawprint pin on his wide lapel.
“Not bidding on anything, Ed?” I asked.
He gazed up at me. “I don’t got any extra money, unlike some of you. I help the animals out in person.”
I kept my mouth shut on that one and kept on going. Resting on the donation table, Abe’s cardboard banjo listed a couple dozen names on its sheet of paper. The last amount scribbled down was $290. I whistled. I didn’t want banjo lessons that much. I found Jim writing on the sheet next to Adele’s basket of yarn and gently elbowed him.
“I didn’t know you were a knitter,” I murmured.
He chuckled as he finished writing his name and jotted down $160 next to it. “I’m an amazingly well-rounded and brilliant Renaissance man. I do not, however, count knitting among my talents. My mom, on the other hand, runs through yarn like a machine.” He looked up and winked. “She’s going to love this. I can give it to her for her birthday next month.”
“It don’t matter none if I outbid you,” Barb said with a smile, sliding in next to him. “Your mama’s not going to see no yarn.” She grabbed the pen and upped his amount by twenty dollars, writing $180. She glanced up at the big clock and then took her time writing her name in slow, deliberate movements, one letter at a time.
“Hey,” Jim said. He looked at his watch. “Nice try, but there’s still two minutes.” He took the pen back.
I let them go at their friendly competition, all in a good cause, and moved down the line. It was gratifying to see the gift certificate for Pans ‘N Pancakes had been bid up to $150. These small-town Hoosiers possessed deeper pockets than I’d expected. Although, when I took a closer look, I saw it was only Vera and one other person who vied for the privilege of either a couple of hearty breakfasts or a few pieces of cookware. I stepped away to let serious bidders use their last moments, and turned back to check the food table.
Danna was moving about the room, clearing detritus from the tables. She held a stack of paper plates and crumpled napkins in one hand and several half-full drink cups suspended from the fingers of the other hand. As she went by where Ed sat, she gave him a wide berth. But it wasn’t wide enough. I watched him lean out of his chair and squeeze her buttock. Danna whirled toward him as Corrine whistled again to signal the end of bidding.
“Don’t you touch me, you dirty old lech,” Danna snarled. She threw the drink cups, red wine and all, in his face, then she delivered a fierce backhand slap across that same, shocked face.
Ed’s eyes widened as he slid off his chair with a yell. The sound of his head hitting the floor wasn’t a pleasant one. After that, you could have heard a pin drop. Heck, you could have heard a flea land. Everyone in the room stared.
“Danna Beedle, what-all are you doing?” Corrine called out.
Danna gave an angry glance at Ed, threw a defiant look at her mother, and ripped her apron off. She strode for the door.
“Sorry about that, Robbie. The filthy bastard so had it coming to him,” she muttered as she passed me.
I laid a hand on her arm until she paused. “You go, girl,” I murmured.
She threw me a sideways smile and kept on going. The door slammed shut behind her, but the bell kept jangling like a reminder not to mess with her.
Abe rushed to Ed’s side, with Don close behind him. Ed didn’t move. As Don stood, rubbing his thumbs and fingers together on each hand in an ineffectual gesture, Abe laid two fingers on Ed’s neck.
“Get your hands off me, O’Neill,” Ed shouted, pushing Abe away and struggling to sit up.
Abe sat back on his heels. “Just wanted to be sure you weren’t passed out, Ed,” he said in a calm voice. “That you didn’t get a concussion.”
“I’d be fine if that little bi . . .” He glanced around him. “If that girl didn’t haul off and whack me. Hey, Corrine,” he called across the room from where he sat, “what aren’t you teaching that daughter of yours?”
“I’m teaching her to respect herself, that’s what,” Corrine yelled at him, then turned her back. Somebody in the crowd gave a hoot of approval. I wasn’t sure, but thought it might have been Adele.
Ed shook his head, his hands on his splayed-out legs. He grimaced as he felt the back of his head.
I walked over to Abe, who’d moved a couple yards away from Ed. I lowered my voice and said, “You sure Ed’s going to be okay?”
“I was a navy medic. I think he’s gonna be diagnosed as tipsy and stupid.”
“He hit his head pretty hard. I heard it thud.”
“Yeah. And it’s his own damn fault.” Abe moved close to Ed again. “Does your head hurt?”
“Darn right it hurts. But it ain’t bleeding.” He took his hand off his head and showed it to Abe, then glanced at me. “What are you looking at?”
I held my hands up, palms out. “I want to be sure you’re all right.”
“Huh. Oughta discipline that so-called employee of yours,” he muttered. “Assaulting me like that.”
I took four steps until I stood above him. I tried to keep my voice level. “You’re the one who groped her, Ed Kowalski. That’s illegal, in case you didn’t know.”