Fatal Brushstroke (An Aurora Anderson Mystery Book 1) (8 page)

“I’ll bet,” Liz said in a tone that indicated she wasn’t buying the excuse.

“Aurora, what a nice outfit,” Trudy said. “I gave away one just like it to charity recently. Too out-of-date for me, but it suits you to a T. And Nora, I didn’t realize Julian had already cleared out Hester’s closet. Is that the rose pin you demoed at the last convention? No one expected you to actually wear it!” Under her breath, but still loud enough everyone in the small group could hear, she said, “Hester attached hers to a key chain. She wouldn’t be caught dead with that pinned to her breast.”

Nora’s face turned red as she fingered the wooden rose keeping her scarf in place.

“Trudy, how do you keep that fabulous figure?” Liz said, trying to keep the woman’s focus off Nora who now looked as if she was about to collapse.

“Exercise and staying away from fatty food. It’s a lot of work, but it’s worth it.” Trudy stared pointedly at Nora. “Some people simply don’t have the discipline.”

Nora’s face turned a deep shade of purple and strange sounds emanated from her throat. Rory hastily reviewed CPR procedures in her mind just in case they were needed.

“Still working on those insipid designs of yours, Nora?” Trudy continued, oblivious to the woman’s suffering. “Hester was always saying how juvenile they were.”

Rory was getting more and more worried about the situation when she heard the sound of a slap against skin. A shocked silence fell over the group as well as everyone standing nearby. Nora stared in horror at her hand as if it had acquired a mind of its own. Trudy fingered the injured spot on her face and, seemingly incapable of uttering a word, drifted off without comment, a flowery scent that reminded Rory of the gardenia plant in her mother’s garden trailing in her wake.

Shortly after, Nora mumbled an apology and ran from the terrace.

“Should we...?” Rory said to Liz.

“Let her be. She’s embarrassed enough. And I don’t think we have to worry about T & A. She’s already found someone to comfort her.” Liz nodded at the other side of the terrace where Trudy seemed to have forgotten about the slap and was flirting with Detective Green.

Rory wondered if flirting was one of the methods of interrogation taught at the police academy or if the detective had learned it on his own. He could use some pointers on technique, though. Even with a beautiful woman paying attention to him, the man didn’t crack a smile. Maybe he’d been married so long he was out of practice, though she’d never noticed a wedding ring on his finger.

“Did you see those shoes?” Liz said in an excited voice, breaking into Rory’s thoughts.

“Shoes?” Rory said a little vaguely, still wondering about the detective’s marital status.

“Never mind. I’m going to find out where she bought them.” Liz threaded her way through the crowd in search of the owner of the footwear that had caught her attention.

Once she was alone, Rory grabbed a plate and walked over to one of the serving stations. She was dishing out pasta salad when a man, half a foot shorter than Rory and almost as wide as he was tall, stepped in front of her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Chief Marshall said in a gruff voice. Out of uniform and in a rumpled suit, the man appeared less intimidating than usual until she looked into his eyes, as devoid of warmth as ever. His collar didn’t quite hide the scar on his neck.

Behind the man’s brusque manner and expressionless eyes lay a pain Rory could only imagine. Sadness enveloped her as she pictured a younger version of the policeman trying, but failing, to rescue his wife and two-year-old daughter from the burning building.

Rory averted her gaze. “Chief, I didn’t think you were coming. I mean, I didn’t see you earlier at the service,” she managed to squeak out.

“Hester was a friend. I belong here.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his inside jacket pocket and wiped the sweat off his bald head. He took his time returning the white cloth to its place, carefully folding it into a perfect square. Rory’s heart beat faster at the long pause in the conversation. When she couldn’t stand the silence any longer, the chief looked her squarely in the eyes and said, “We’ve got quite a bit of evidence already. It’s only a matter of time before we have enough to convict. And running won’t help, either. Remember that.” He turned around and headed back into the crowd.

The chief’s attitude drove home the need for her to find enough evidence to clear her name—and soon. Rory stood stock still, wondering what she should do next, until someone behind her cleared his throat, reminding her to move on. Zombie-like, she visited the other serving stations, barely noticing which dishes she added to her plate. By the time she’d finished the circuit, she’d shaken off the encounter, although she wasn’t as hungry as she’d been a short time before. When she looked around for a quiet place to eat, she spotted two empty seats bookending a dry-eyed Nora who was studying the crowd, hands clasped in her lap. On impulse, Rory grabbed an extra fork and headed over.

Rory pointed to one of the empty chairs. “May I?”

“Please,” Nora said. “I wanted to...explain, about earlier.”

“No need.” Rory sank down onto the seat, placing her plate on her lap. She tucked her purse under her chair and kicked off her shoes. “That’s better.” She held out her full plate to Nora. “Would you like some food? I went a little overboard.”

“No, thank you, I couldn’t eat a thing.”

“Come on, you need to keep up your strength. I bet you’ve been too busy to eat. I have an extra fork.” Rory held the utensil out to Nora who, without any further encouragement, grabbed it and took a dainty forkful of pasta salad from the plate.

After chewing in silence for a few moments, Nora said, “I’m sorry about before. I don’t know what came over me.”

“You were just upset about Hester. It’s been a trying day, and you have a lot of responsibility here. Trudy can be a bit...much at times. I hardly know her, and I’ve been tempted to slap her myself.”

Nora gave Rory the faintest of smiles, the happiest Rory had seen the woman since the weekend painting class. “Did you see? That detective’s here, but I didn’t invite him.”

“He hasn’t bothered you, has he?”

Nora shook her head. “No, but it still doesn’t seem right. Do you think I should ask him to leave?”

“No, you don’t want to cause a scene. He’s just doing his job. Besides, the chief’s here, too.”

“But he
belongs
here. He’s one of Julian’s closest friends, you know. I saw you talking to him...the chief, I mean. Did he tell you when Hester was mur—” Nora took a deep breath and continued, “Do they know when she died?”

“He didn’t say. Some time after she finished teaching her class and before I found her, I suppose. My mom said she left the store around nine.”

“So when I was painting...she was...?”

Rory patted Nora’s arm. “Do you have a painting partner?”

“I don’t have an alibi, if that’s what you mean.” Nora put her fork down on the empty seat next to her and sat up straighter. “Since my divorce, well, I’m alone a lot. I’m sure one of my neighbors saw the lights on in my studio, though.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just thinking I’d finish more projects if I had someone to paint with on a regular basis.”

“Absolutely. If you want to improve, regular practice is essential. I paint every day, no matter what.”

Loud laughter erupted from across the patio where a group of waiters stood talking to each other. Nora frowned. “I specifically told the catering staff to circulate. I’m not paying them to gossip. Excuse me. Thanks for coming over, it was very thoughtful.”

Nora marched toward the group of young servers. They scattered like a flock of birds who suddenly discovered a cat in their midst.

Rory took another bite, then handed the plate she’d barely touched to a waiter who was now moving throughout the crowd. Her gaze swept the terrace in search of Liz. Near the meat station, she spotted Chief Marshall chatting with one of her mother’s friends. A hint of a smile on his face gave Rory a glimpse of the happy man he’d once been. Off to one side, she saw Arika deep in conversation with Julian. She was about to join them when Liz walked up.

Liz gestured toward Arika and Julian. “I wonder if he realizes Nora already made the sale.”

Moments later, Rory spotted Kevin going into the house followed by Trudy. Rory caught Liz’s eye and nodded at the disappearing figures. Together, the two young women headed toward the sliding glass door that led inside.

Chapter 12

Rory and Liz slipped through the sliding glass door into a spacious living room with hallways branching off in two directions.

“What do we say if someone catches us?” Rory whispered as they wended their way around the furniture, heading for the hallway they thought Kevin and Trudy had taken.

“We’re looking for the bathroom, silly.” Liz walked under a tin-and-wire mobile suspended from the ceiling.

Rory sidestepped the art project and promptly fell over an ottoman that seemed to jump out in front of her. By the time Rory righted herself, Liz had disappeared down the hallway.

Rory crept forward, listening for sounds of activity. As she passed an open doorway, she felt a vise-like grip on her left arm and someone yanked her into Hester’s office. She rubbed her shoulder and frowned at her assailant. “That hurt.”

“You’ll recover,” Liz said as she flipped through an appointment book lying on the desk.

“What happened to following Kevin and Trudy?”

“This is better.” Liz frowned. “I see the class at your mother’s store, but no other appointments listed for the night she died. If she had one, she didn’t write it down.”

Hester’s office
was
a logical place to look for answers, Rory thought. They’d probably learn more here than by following Kevin and Trudy. She disliked poking through people’s things, but they might find something in the office that led them to the murderer.

Rory’s gaze swept the room, taking in the decorations (a vanity wall and several floral studies Hester must have painted), the furniture (typical office stuff including desk and filing cabinet), and a pocket door Rory assumed led to a closet or storage area. An empty drafting table, which only two weeks ago had been covered with one of Hester’s projects, stood in the corner. From the looks of things, her painting teacher had finished the designs and never had a chance to begin something new. Rory felt a lump starting to form in her throat. She took a moment to compose herself, then turned her attention to Liz, who pointed at the computer that stood on a nearby table.

“Do your thing,” Liz said.

Rory shook her head. “Uh-uh. I’m not going down that road again.”

“What are you talking about?”

Rory had forgotten she’d never told Liz about Hester’s wild accusations, and she had no desire to go into details right now. “It’ll take too long to go through her computer. Besides, I don’t think she used it much. Let’s search the rest of the office first. You take the filing cabinet, I’ll take the desk.”

While Liz rifled through the cabinet, Rory rummaged through the desk drawers, finding little of interest until she came across a folder labeled CORRESPONDENCE. One letter in particular stood out. “According to this, Hester’s publisher had rejected her latest book.”

“What’s the date on the letter?”

“Nine months ago. I wonder what changed his mind.” After glancing through the rest of the letters, Rory replaced the folder and pulled out another drawer.

“She’s no Donna Dewberry, that’s for sure,” Liz said.

“What do you mean?”

“According to her tax returns, she barely made a profit the last two years.” Liz closed the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet and started looking behind the paintings that covered one of the walls. She shoved aside a large still-life, revealing a built-in safe. “Bingo! Now all we need is a combination. Maybe she jotted it down in her appointment book. She never could remember numbers.” Liz was thumbing through the book’s pages when they heard voices coming down the hallway.

Rory looked wildly around for somewhere the two of them could hide. For one heart-stopping moment she thought they were trapped until she remembered the pocket door she’d noticed earlier. “Quick. In here.” She shoved Liz toward the door and prayed they’d both fit into the space on the other side.

They tumbled into an empty bathroom with another exit leading into the hallway. Rory barely had time to slide the pocket door closed before she heard someone enter the room they’d just left.

Rory sank down onto the toilet to catch her breath and rested her head against the wall behind her while Liz leaned against a nearby cabinet. A jumble of curious noises seeped through the wall between the office and bathroom. Liz knelt down by the door and motioned for her friend to join her. Rory crouched down onto the cold tile beside Liz, wedging herself between the toilet and the wall. She brushed aside the leaf of a potted fern and pressed her ear against the door. If she concentrated hard enough, she could make sense of the sounds coming through it. A succession of thuds indicated that several objects had landed on the carpet. From the moans and smacking noises that followed, Rory assumed a make-out session was in full swing, but couldn’t tell who was involved.

She felt uncomfortable listening to the suggestive noises and was wondering if they should leave the bathroom when she heard a raspy voice say, “Your mother would have hated this, the two of us making out in her precious office. It’s nice not having to pretend anymore.”

Rory mouthed Veronica’s name at Liz who nodded in agreement.

“What do you mean?” Kevin must have downed a pot of coffee since they saw him on the terrace, Rory thought. He sounded far more sober than he had half an hour ago.

“Now that your mother’s gone we have no reason to keep our relationship a secret.”

“What’s wrong with the way things are?”

Liz flashed Rory a look that said “typical male.”

“You said the other women were just for show. You said as soon as you convinced your mother, we could stop pretending and get married. She’s dead now. What’s stopping us?”

During the heavy silence that followed, Rory’s leg cramped up. She tried to readjust without making a sound, but her foot inadvertently knocked the potted fern into the toilet. The resulting noise was so loud she was sure it could be heard miles down the coast.

Rory and Liz froze.

“Did you hear something?” Veronica said.

“I think it came from the bathroom.”

Liz was already halfway to the hallway door before Rory could free herself from the tight quarters and make her way across the floor. When the two of them burst out of the bathroom into the hallway, they ran straight into Nora.

“All yours,” Rory said to the startled woman and, as nonchalantly as possible, followed Liz to the sliding glass door that led outside. Moments after they emerged onto the terrace, Detective Green confronted them.

That’s odd, Rory thought; the detective seemed to have grown several inches taller since she saw him last.

“Lose something?” He held out his hand. A pair of black pumps dangled from the tips of his fingers, and a purse was tucked under his arm.

Rory looked down in dismay at her bare feet. If she couldn’t keep track of her own belongings, how in the world was she going to figure out who killed Hester?