The Monet Murders (23 page)
Authors: Jean Harrington
Like a neatly tied package, the affaire Alexander was all wrapped up with no dangling loose ends. Except for one.
Lee had never mentioned Paulo’s painting of Ilona. The fact that I knew about it but she apparently did not weighed on me. Though Paulo had nothing to do with the murders or the theft, why hadn’t he spoken about such an important commission? What did he have to hide?
Even with the notoriety swirling around the Alexander name—or perhaps because of it—the publicity could only enhance Paulo’s career. That and a subject like Ilona, who was so very beautiful. A mystery for sure, and one I worried about for Lee’s sake. Yet every time I was tempted to ask her if she knew about the portrait, I couldn’t bring myself to pose the question. It was none of my business. Besides, Paulo would have many commissions over a lifetime. Lee wouldn’t know of each and every one. Still…why the secrecy?
I expected them to drop by tonight. With their wedding just two weeks away, they wanted to meet with Chip and discuss the wedding dinner menu. My feet propped up on an ottoman, I sat in a club chair and waited for them, telling myself not to worry, everything would be all right. On the plus side, my right foot had completely healed, and I was down to a light dressing on the left. Most of the time these days I didn’t even need the crutches.
Da da da DA.
“Come in,” I called. “Door’s open.”
Chatting and laughing, Lee and Paulo burst into the living room in a whirlwind of excitement.
“Look at this, Deva. Look!” Lee ran over to me and held out her left hand. “From Paulo!” A diamond solitaire adorned her slim ring finger, its small, round stone as brilliant as a tiny star. “I declare, I’m still in a state of shock.” Like the ring, Lee’s eyes sparkled with star shine.
“Some day when my commissions are better, I’ll replace the diamond with a larger one,” Paulo said with a happy smile.
“Never!” Lee flung her arms around him. “I want to keep this one for my whole life. And I want to keep you for my whole life.” She rested her left hand on his shoulder and gazed at her new ring. “Mr. Alexander was a smart man to pay you to paint his wife. You’re going to be famous.”
“I hope so for his sake.” Paulo laughed. “My portrait of Mrs. Alexander is the only painting he’s keeping. He’s selling everything else. Even the Monets. It’s pretty flattering to be preferred to a master.” He shrugged “The subject’s the reason, not the artist. No matter, I wanted to surprise Lee, and I did.”
The front door opened, and Chip sauntered in, glum as I’d ever seen him. Slump-shouldered and quiet, he still hadn’t gotten over losing his chance at being a celebrity chef.
Lee held out her hand to him. “Look at this, Mr. Chip.”
At the unmistakable happiness in her smile, Chip smiled back. “Paulo’s a lucky man.”
“I’m lucky too,” Lee said. “I have Paulo, and now I have y’all cooking my wedding dinner. What could be better than that?”
I could almost hear the unspoken answer echoing in Chip’s head.
Being a celebrity chef.
But all he said was, “That’s a great compliment, Lee. So what would you like me to cook for you?”
“Italian wedding soup would be nice, if that’s all right, Mr. Chip. Then maybe an antipasto.”
“Lasagna?” Paulo sounded hopeful.
“For dessert, besides wedding cake, how about some spumoni on the side?” I asked.
Chip groaned. “Every grade-B spaghetti house has that stuff on the menu.”
“It’s what we all would love to have.” Like a Southern lady, Lee uttered her request so sweetly, what man could refuse?
Though his shoulders remained slumped, Chip nodded.
“It’s the bride’s day, after all, Chip,” I said, anxious to coax another smile out of him. “Besides, I know you’ll do a wonderful job. Everybody loves your food.” I tried to sweeten the deal. “If you have some cards printed, I’ll put them out in the shop. Talk you up. I’ll bet in no time you’d have a catering business going. If you want one, that is. You could be a celebrity chef right here in Naples.” I spread my arms. “After that, who knows?”
“I’ll think about it.” He spoke in a monotone, but his face brightened as he turned to Lee and Paulo. They were sitting side by side on Nana’s sofa, so close you couldn’t slide a piece of paper between them. “Lee, for you I’ll get out my mother’s secret meatball recipe. It makes a killer lasagna.”
“Y’all are such a sweetheart.” She leaped up and gave him a hug.
His cheeks bright red, Chip fled my living room for home, and Lee sat back on the sofa holding Paulo’s hand as if she never wanted to let it go.
“Just two more weeks till our wedding. I can’t hardly believe it, and it can’t come too soon. Paulo was in and out of that Alexander house every time they had a party. What if something bad had happened to him before we even…I mean, before we did…I mean, I want to marry him,” she finished, running out of words. No more were needed. Her flushed face said it all.
Paulo grinned and kissed her cheek. “The only bad thing that could happen to me would be losing you.”
“Did y’all hear that, Deva? Isn’t he wonderful?”
“Without question.”
He laughed and kissed her again.
“Will you be my matron of honor, Deva?” The shy note in Lee’s voice said she wasn’t sure I’d accept.
“I’d be thrilled to.”
“Do you think the lieutenant would stand up for me?” Paulo asked.
“I think he’d love it.”
Remembering the other reason for her visit, Lee reached into a tote and removed a sheaf of papers. “These are the week’s receipts. I made daily deposits to the bank.”
“Thank you, Lee. That’s awesome. How did we do?”
“Business has been good. Better than good. Since the paper reported how y’all found the murder suspect and nearly got killed fighting him off, people have been jamming the shop. It’s been so busy Paulo came in afternoons to help out. The accessories are pretty much gone, so I brought the manufacturers’ catalogs for you to do some more ordering. And here are the names of several ladies who want you to design for them.”
A worried frown creased Lee’s forehead as she handed me the receipts. “I know the Dr. Jones job was a big one. What about the furniture and what not y’all ordered for his house?”
“The wholesale costs are covered, so I haven’t lost anything. I’ll have the furniture delivered to the shop and set it up for sale. We’ll be crowded for a while, but I think the pieces will sell. The murder-mystery provenance might actually help. People love a story.”
She nodded, sat back and reached for Paulo’s hand. I smiled. It would be a long two weeks’ wait for both of them.
Then out of the blue, I suddenly said. “I’ve made a decision.”
“Y’all have?”
“Yes, Lee. I’m closing the shop—”
She drew in a quick shocked breath.
“For the next three weeks. You get time off with pay, and I get more time out to recuperate.”
Delighted, she flung her arms around Paulo. “We can have us a honeymoon. Right in your apartment!”
What neither of them knew, would never know, was I owed Paulo big time, and this was my way of repaying the debt. For days I had suspected him of—yes, I’ll admit it—cheating on Lee with Ilona. Shame all over me for such a suspicion. These two were so much in love no one could ever violate their devotion to each other. If I were Jimmy the Greek I’d lay odds on it. And so would Jack. I just know he would.
* * *
The wedding morning dawned flawless and blue, not a cloud in sight. With only one small Band-Aid covering the last few stitches, my feet slid into low-heeled sandals without any trouble. I slipped on an apricot lace halter dress and smoothed it over my hips. Yesterday I’d had a manicure and pedicure. And I’d had my hair cut short enough to tame my curls but long enough to please Rossi. I screwed on pearl earrings and clasped my grandmother’s pearl bracelet on my right wrist. A little blush and apricot lip gloss. Taupe shadow on my eyelids and new super mascara guaranteed to make my lashes look like bird’s wings.
As a finishing touch, I spritzed on some Diorissimo and stepped away from the bathroom’s full-length mirror to view the effect. A happy, smiling Deva looked back at me and winked.
I plucked my bouquet from the refrigerator where I’d stashed it to keep fresh. For sentimental reasons, I’d chosen a multicolored cluster of grocery store blooms from Publix Market and cobbled them together with a long apricot streamer.
The kitchen clock said five to ten. Rossi would be here soon. Always punctual, he wouldn’t be late, not today.
Sure enough, the chimes rang at ten on the dot. I opened the door to a Rossi I nearly didn’t recognize. He was all decked out in a navy blazer, tan slacks, striped tie, and a starched white shirt. With the tail tucked in.
“Wow,” I said.
His eyes widened at the sight of me. “The wows are all mine. You’re absolutely gorgeous.” He peered closer. “What’s with the eyes? You look like you could fly.”
“It’s—”
“Whatever it is, I like it. I like everything.” He pointed to my bouquet. “That’s the kind of flowers I buy.”
“I know. I’ve always loved them.”
He stuck out an elbow. “Well then, shall we?”
“Oh, yes, let’s.”
We reached Moorings Beach in plenty of time for the wedding. Like love birds released for the occasion, gulls soared overhead, riding the warm air currents; the Gulf water lapped softly on the shore, and the sun shone over all, flawless and golden. The bride had made her own gown and was a vision in a cloud of white tulle. On a minor note, I’m pleased to report I had no problem walking on sand. But Lee and Paulo? Well, throughout the ceremony Lee and Paulo were walking on air.
And later, for their wedding feast, just as he had promised, Chip served a killer lasagna.
Salute!
* * * * *
Deva Dunne has an eye for design and a nose for deceit. If you enjoyed
The Monet Murders,
don’t miss the first title in Jean Harrington’s Murders By Design series. Available wherever ebooks are sold!
Designed for Death
Interior designer Deva Dunne’s latest project comes to a screeching halt when blood
on
the carpet leads her to the body of her client, an exotic dancer with a mysterious past. Though wary of working in the killer’s midst, Deva continues decorating the unit for the new owner. When she stumbles upon clues that might help crack the case, she can’t resist doing a little digging of her own…
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Jean Harrington lives in Naples, Florida, with her husband, John (no cat, no dog, no children anymore). After teaching English lit at Becker College in Worcester, Massachusetts, for seventeen years, she now spends her days writing and rewriting and loving every minute of it.
Jean has had two Irish historical romances published,
The Barefoot Queen
(2007) and
In the Lion’s Mouth
(2009). Her work has won prizes in several Romance Writers of America contests.
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ISBN: 978-14268-9393-3
Copyright © 2012 by Jean Harrington
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