Fatal Brushstroke (An Aurora Anderson Mystery Book 1) (14 page)

“...and dialed the wrong number? Who’d you call?”

“It was the Bouquets’ house, but I’m not sure who picked up. I just started talking as soon as I heard the phone connect. I thought it was you.”

Rory knew how excited her friend could get. She’d lost track of how many times she’d answered the phone and Liz had blurted out her news before Rory even had a chance to say hello.

“When they hung up without saying anything, I got concerned so I checked the number I dialed. I mean, even when you’re mad at me, you never hang up without saying a word.”

“Exactly what did you say?”

“The same thing I just told you. How I thought Kevin’s birth certificate was forged since Hester wasn’t his real mother.”

“You don’t know it was Kevin who answered,” Rory hastened to reassure her friend. “He doesn’t live there anymore. Could have been the housekeeper. Why was Hester on your speed dial, anyway?”

“Julian, not Hester. I did a bunch of business with him last year.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.” Rory looked over the papers Liz had placed on the table, some of which had been shredded into pieces small enough they’d have to use tweezers to put them back together. “What a mess. I wonder how much we can save.”

Liz held up a page torn from a back issue of
The Decorative Painter
. “I hope the rest of the magazine is in one piece. This issue was hard to find.”

“Here it is.” Rory handed Liz the missing magazine, which appeared intact except for the page Liz held in her hand. “A little tape and you’ll be set.”

“Can’t say the same for these.” Liz held up fragments of butcher paper dotted with pencil marks and splotches of red paint.

Rory recognized the larger bits as coming from the drawings found in Hester’s safe. They matched up the pieces the best they could but, even if they had the patience to tape them together, no one would be interested in looking at them, let alone bidding on them.

“I think it’s a lost cause,” Liz said.

“Mom was going to auction those off at the paint-a-thon. She already distributed the flyers and paid for the ad in the paper.” Rory slumped down onto a nearby chair. “How do I break the news to her?”

“It was only a small part of the event. People will understand. Maybe your mom will come up with another way to raise money for Hester’s favorite charity.”

Liz was right. The main purpose for the occasion wasn’t fundraising, but to pay tribute to the woman who’d inspired others to take up decorative painting. Rory rose to her feet with new resolve. “Let’s finish this so we can open up.”

In no time, they’d cleared everything off the floor except for the christening picture they’d found among the painting supplies. Liz looked in dismay at its cracked glass. “I hope the glass is the only thing that needs to be repaired.” As she picked up the damaged frame, the back swung open and something fluttered to the carpet.

Rory bent down to pick up an object that explained a lot, but raised even more questions in her mind.

Chapter 20

“I wonder if Trudy was looking for this when she wandered in here a little while ago.” Rory studied the snapshot that had fallen out of the frame Liz had picked up off the classroom floor. A tired-looking Trudy lay in a hospital bed cradling a child with Hester looking on. The date written on the back indicated it was taken just over twenty-one years ago.

Liz put the frame that held Kevin’s christening picture on the nearby table and stared at the photo Rory handed her. “This was taken a day after Kevin was born. But this means...Trudy is his birth mother?”

“You did tell me Hester stole Julian from, how did you put it? ‘the loving arms of another woman.’ I wonder if that was before or after Trudy learned she was pregnant.”

“That’s a heck of a romantic triangle. I guess that’s why Trudy is Kevin’s godmother. Gave her an excuse to stay in his life.” Liz returned the snapshot to Rory who stuffed it in her wallet for safekeeping.

“I wonder if Kevin knows.”

“Let’s go and ask T & A about it.” Liz put on her jacket and headed toward the back door.

Rory was as eager as her friend to find out what Trudy had to say, but she’d made a promise to her mother to take care of the store. The interrogation would have to wait. “I’ll talk to her later. She’s not going anywhere. Help me finish so I can open.”

They tidied the classroom enough so a customer wouldn’t trip over debris or cut herself on bits of glass should she wander around the corner. After returning the vacuum to its place in the back room, Rory flipped the sign from Closed to Open and unlocked the front door. While Liz went out to get sandwiches from the local deli, Rory turned the store phone’s ringer back on and listened to the messages left on voicemail.

After they ate lunch, Liz returned to work. Rory kept herself busy making arrangements to get the glass in the back door replaced, answering questions about the paint-a-thon, and fielding calls from well-wishers who’d heard about the break-in. Thank goodness it was an early closing day. Rory was sure she wouldn’t make it past six.

Of the handful of customers who stepped inside Arika’s Scrap ’n Paint, most seemed to know about the vandalism but were too polite to dwell on it while others wanted to talk about it ad nauseam. She even made a few pity sales to people who Rory was pretty sure had never before set foot inside the store, but wanted to support a local business in its time of need.

Precisely at six, Rory finished with her last customer and closed up. She reread her notes on the security system before leaving. She didn’t want a repeat of last night, though she doubted the vandals would strike the same place twice, especially with the extra patrols the Vista Beach police department had promised to assign to the downtown area.

After setting the alarm properly this time, Rory headed down the alley toward Main Street Squeeze, passing trash bins and parked cars along the way. A calico cat followed her for a short distance, but lost interest when something small and furry caught its attention. She didn’t want to know what had piqued the cat’s interest.

As Rory neared the restaurant, she heard familiar voices drifting out of the partially open back door. She flattened herself against the wall of the building and inched her way along it as quietly as possible until she reached the edge of the doorway. Staying as still as she could, she listened to the conversation.

“...such a hurry to get rid of Hester’s painting supplies? I never understood what you had against her work,” said a voice Rory recognized as Trudy’s.

“Prostitution is a more legitimate business than this tole painting crap. At least a prostitute provides a useful service.”

Rory choked back an exclamation of surprise at Julian’s comment. She’d never envisioned having her hobby compared to the world’s oldest profession.

“Since you’re being so brutally honest, maybe you can tell me where you were the night Hester died,” Trudy continued.

“You know where I was. With you, at your place.”

“You didn’t get there until eleven.”

“You think I’m capable of killing my own wife? When did I find the time? In between meetings? You know how busy I’ve been with all these new clients.”

“Is that where you were going when you left in the middle of the night? A business meeting? I find that hard to believe.”

“I had an early appointment the next morning. I wanted to sleep in my own bed. Is that a crime? You had as much opportunity to kill Hester as I did. I didn’t even see her that night.”

“Then how do you explain—? Never mind. You’d only lie to me, anyway.”

Rory felt something furry brush against her ankle. She bit her lip to stifle the scream that rose in her throat. Against her better judgment, she looked down and discovered the cat who’d attached itself to her earlier rubbing its face on her jeans. The calico emitted a faint, inquiring meow. She tried to shoo it away with a motion of her hands, but the cat didn’t take the hint and, instead, let out a guttural yowl that shook the night air.

“What was that?” Trudy said.

Rory froze and held her breath, praying they wouldn’t look outside. The cat turned its back on her and, with its tail held high, wandered inside the restaurant.

“It’s just a cat. Your imagination is working overtime,” Julian said.

A moment later, the calico raced out the door and down the alley as if being chased by a flock of angry birds.

The couple continued arguing, exchanging words that would have gotten Rory’s mouth washed out with soap when she was a child. Any moment, she expected Julian to burst out the door and catch her eavesdropping so she ran on tiptoe back toward Arika’s Scrap ’n Paint. A hundred feet down the alley, she turned around and walked back toward Main Street Squeeze at a normal pace as if she’d just come from her mother’s store. She was halfway to the restaurant when Julian stormed out the door, slamming it behind him, and headed down the alley away from her toward Dewey Lane. Even if he had been looking in her direction, the man was so consumed with rage Rory doubted he’d have noticed her presence.

As soon as Julian disappeared from view, Rory knocked on the back door of the restaurant. Trudy yanked it open and, before she could have seen who was there, shouted, “Now what?”

Rory jumped back, afraid the angry woman was going to reach up and punch her in the face.

“Oh, it’s you. Have you come for more wheatgrass? I don’t know why you bother. It doesn’t seem to have done you much good.”

Ignoring the comments, Rory drew the photo out of her wallet and handed it to the restaurant owner.

Trudy took one look at it, then opened the door a little wider and said, “You’d better come inside.”

Chapter 21

Trudy settled down behind her desk in the office of Main Street Squeeze and studied the family photo Rory had handed her. The whir of a blender and murmur of voices drifted in through a half-open door.

With her back to the alley, Rory stood waiting for the restaurant owner’s response. She didn’t like butting in on other people’s private business but, if there was even a slight chance Kevin’s parentage had something to do with Hester’s murder, Rory wanted to know about it.

“I haven’t seen this in a long time.” Trudy’s voice softened for a moment, then it took on a harder edge and she ripped the photo in half, throwing the pieces on the metal desk. “How much?”

Her gaze riveted on the torn photo, Rory barely heard the words as she tried to understand the woman’s unforeseen reaction. When the question finally penetrated Rory’s brain, she felt a brief moment of puzzlement until, in a flash of insight, she realized what Trudy meant. “I don’t want money!” Rory said, horrified that anyone would think she’d resort to blackmail.

“Then what do you want?”

“Information. Tell me about the photo.”

“Yes, I’m Kevin’s mother. Now you know my dirty little secret. Does that satisfy your idle curiosity?” Trudy turned her attention to the computer screen and began typing on the keyboard.

“Why didn’t you and Julian raise him together? You seem to care about Kevin even if you don’t publicly acknowledge him as your son.”

Trudy paused in her typing, but kept her gaze focused on the display. “It’s none of your business.” Though the expression on her face appeared impassive, the woman couldn’t hide the anger in her voice.

A pimply-faced employee poked his head around the half-open door and stammered a question. Rory wondered how much of their conversation the youth had overheard. Trudy barked out an answer, then stood up and closed the door firmly behind him. “Why are you still here?” she said to Rory as she once again sat down at her desk. “Shoo!”

Rory glanced down to see if the calico had returned but, finding no curious feline prowling around the room, realized the command had been meant for her. “Maybe Kevin can answer my questions, then.” She turned around and headed toward the alley door.

She’d barely gone two steps when Trudy said, “Wait! What do you want to know?”

Rory did an about-face and sat down in the chair in front of the desk. “Tell me about Kevin.”

“I was young. Julian had already eloped with Hester when I discovered I was pregnant. She had money. I didn’t. End of story.” The restaurant owner doled out the information in a matter-of-fact manner, but Rory sensed a deeper emotion lying beneath the surface.

Maybe, after all these years, Trudy wanted to tell Kevin the truth and Hester had objected. For some people that would be a motive for murder. “So, you gave him up, just like that?” Rory said.

With a wave of her hand, Trudy dismissed the matter as unimportant. “Babies aren’t for me.”

“Whose idea was it for Hester and Julian to adopt Kevin?”

“Not adopt...exactly.”

“Then how do you explain Kevin’s birth certificate? It lists Hester as his mother.”

Trudy leaned back in her chair. “My, you have been busy! If you must know, I checked into a hospital under Hester’s name so...”

“...no need for adoption.” That was clever, Rory thought, though she wasn’t about to give the woman the satisfaction of saying the words out loud. “It must have been hard, giving him up after you held him in your arms.”

“Not really. I never wanted children so when Hester brought up the idea, we all agreed it was for the best. She got the baby she couldn’t have. I got help in starting a business.”

“You sold me?” said an angry voice that came from the direction of the back entrance.

Rory looked over her shoulder at the alley doorway where Kevin stood, hands clenched at his side.

The façade of indifference Trudy had kept up during the conversation melted away, allowing a mixture of shame and guilt to appear on her face. “I can explain.”

“All these years, I thought you were on my side.” Kevin slammed his fist into a wall on his way out the door, making a hole next to the exit.

Trudy flashed a look of pure hatred in Rory’s direction. “This is all your fault,” she said as she raced after her son, leaving Rory alone in the office.

Pangs of guilt stabbed at Rory. She hadn’t meant to damage the relationship between the two of them. She reminded herself she’d only brought the situation out into the open, not created it in the first place, though she was sure Trudy wouldn’t see it that way. Common sense dictated Rory no longer be in the office when the restaurant owner returned. She reached for the photo Trudy had torn in half, but decided it better to leave it behind. Rory no longer had any use for it and Trudy might regret tearing it up and want to keep it.

Rory was about to leave when her gaze fell on the planning calendar pinned to the wall behind the desk. She examined it for some indication of Trudy’s whereabouts the night Hester was killed, but the only entries written on the calendar were for work and delivery schedules. Rory grabbed a Post-it note off the desk and jotted down the names of those who’d been working around the time of the murder in case she wanted to question them later.

Aware she might be interrupted at any moment, Rory scanned the office for places Trudy might keep her personal schedule. While she searched, she kept an eye on the door, ready to bolt should the angry woman return before Rory had finished. Rummaging through the desk, she found an appointment book in one of the drawers. On the page for the Monday of Hester’s death, an entry was scratched out. By shining the desk lamp on the calendar page and squinting, Rory could just make out the name and time of the cancelled appointment.

She almost dropped the book on the desk when she read the entry: Hester, 9:30 p.m. No wonder Trudy had pointed the finger at Rory. By claiming the murder victim had an appointment with someone else the night she died, Trudy directed attention away from herself. The police would be so busy following up on their lead they might never find out about her and the Bouquets’ little “arrangement” and, consequently, never discover a possible motive for the murder. Rory replaced the appointment book exactly as she’d found it and slipped out the alley door.

As she drove to her mother’s house, Rory thought about what she’d discovered that evening. Until tonight, she’d entertained the notion the couple had collaborated in getting rid of Hester. Now, she’d bet on either one of them killing her on their own, though, as far as Rory was concerned, Trudy was the odds-on favorite. Given her closeness to Julian, the woman undoubtedly knew everything he did, including Rory’s troubles with his wife. Trudy would have known how suspicious the police would be if they found Hester’s body in Rory’s garden.

Rory could speculate all she wanted, but she had no proof—not yet, anyway. She’d have to figure out a way to get it, but right now, she had her own work to do.

Over dinner, Rory and her mother discussed the situation at the store. They went over the list of items that had been damaged or needed repair and decided, after a quick review of the store’s inventory records, that nothing had been stolen. Not long after they finished, her mother’s friend, Agatha, arrived to keep Arika company. By the time Rory left, the two of them were deep in a discussion of the importance of omega-6 fatty acids in a healthy diet.

At home, too wired to sleep yet too tired to work, Rory pulled out the project Nora had given her and spread it out on the empty half of the kitchen table. Before painting on the final product, she wanted to practice the strokes spelling out Samantha’s name. She considered several styles of brush lettering, settling on one that was at the least elaborate end of the spectrum.

Rory drew guidelines on practice paper with a soft pencil, then loaded a flat brush with a fifty-fifty mixture of black acrylic paint and water. After painting the three strokes necessary to produce a capital S, she reviewed her work. She hadn’t lifted her brush quickly enough at the end of each stroke to produce the sharp edges she desired. She tried again, this time writing the full name several times, concentrating on correcting the strokes and keeping the spacing between the letters consistent. After covering two pages with the name, she gave up for the evening, still unhappy with the result. Her hands were too shaky from lack of sleep to produce the letters to her satisfaction.

Before she headed to bed, Rory checked Veronica’s blog as she had every evening since she’d learned of its existence. According to the latest entry, a reliable source had seen someone close to the murdered woman in town with Hester around the time she’d been killed. The blogger even hinted she knew where the club that had been used to strike the fatal blows could be found.

Veronica had better be careful, Rory thought. No telling what the murderer might do if the young woman got too close to the truth.