A Killing Fair by Glenn Ickler Read Free Book Online

away?”
    â€œPretty much. He comes back maybe once a year, usually drunk, and tells Vinnie he’s a rotten bastard.”
    Now here was a solid suspect. I wondered if KGB knew about him. “Have the Falcon Heights police talked to you?” I asked.
    â€œNo,” Ozzie said. “I haven’t heard from them.”
    â€œYou’ll probably be hearing from a detective named K.G. Barnes. She’s not the most pleasant cop you’ll ever meet.”
    â€œI’ll keep my guard up. Thanks for the warning.”
    â€œThanks for your help. And remember to call me if you think of that former customer’s name or anything else that might help.”
    Ozzie escorted me to the back door and I heard the locking bolt slam into place behind me. I got into my car and drove out the alley and onto West Seventh Street. A Channel Five television truck was parked across the street from Vinnie’s front door.
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    * * *
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    A few minutes before lunch I received a call from Detective K.G. Barnes, informing me that the Falcon Heights medical examiner would hold a press conference in the police station at 1:00 p.m., perfect timing to allow TV breaking news to interrupt all the daytime viewers’ favorite soap operas.
    â€œI’ll be there,” I said. “And that lunch invitation is still open for tomorrow or any other day this week. I’ll even pick up the tab on my meager reporter’s salary.”
    â€œYou can save your meager salary for lunch with somebody else,” KGB said as she hung up.
    â€œBitch!” I said.
    â€œNot stonewalled again?” said Corinne Ramey.
    â€œCold-shouldered this time,” I said.
    â€œIs there a difference?”
    â€œStonewalled is professional; cold-shouldered is personal.”
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    * * *
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    One o’clock found Al and me joining a media mob so big that the Falcon Heights press conference had to be moved outside. This allowed Chief Victoria Tubb, Detective K.G. Barnes and Dr. Leo Longwell to stand on the top step in front of the door and gaze down upon us mere mortals on the lawn and sidewalk below.
    â€œFeel like you’re in church ready to be preached to?” I asked Trish Valentine, who was reporting live and interrupting Channel Four’s regular broadcast. She was up front as always, and I’d wormed my way through the crowd with judicious use of elbows and insincere apologies to stand behind her.
    â€œIt’s like the king and his consorts gazing down on the rabble,” Trish said. “I wonder if they’ll deign to answer questions.”
    â€œThey won’t if the chief is as hard-ass as Detective Barnes,” I said.
    Chief Tubb proved to be more helpful than KGB. She opened the session to questions after Dr. Longwell droned along for almost five minutes describing the dead man’s physical injuries before leaving us without an official cause of death. This, he said, would not be available until the toxicology lab results were in.
    As she often does, Trish Valentine asked the first question. “Can you speculate as to what type of poison was on the stick?” she asked.
    â€œI’d rather not get into that until we have the toxicology report,” Dr. Longwell said.
    I was next. “Dr. Longwell, at the scene, one of the investigators said the victim’s actions were consistent with the symptoms of strychnine poisoning. Do you agree with that observation?”
    â€œI’m not sure which actions you mean?” said the M.E.
    â€œThe one I remember best was the arching of the back so that only the victim’s head and feet were touching the stage.”
    â€œThat is consistent with strychnine. However, not having actually observed the victim’s struggles, I can neither agree nor disagree.”
    Several reporters groaned, including me. A couple of others asked the same question in roundabout ways, but the M.E. was a good dodger and nobody got an answer.
    Chief