After retrieving the dishes, I returned to the house. “The casserole's only slightly warm,” I told Ralph. “Let me pop it into the oven for about fifteen minutes, and it should be just right.”
Ralph nodded, and I turned on the oven.
“I'll stick the salad and dessert in the fridge.” Before Ralph had time to object, I'd opened the refrigerator door. Chip had been right. Except for some condiments, it was empty.
“It looks like it's time to stock up. I'm going to the supermarket later this evening. I might as well pick up whatever you need while I'm there. Let's make a list.”
“All right, but I insist on paying for the groceries. And let me give you something for your time and trouble, too.”
“You can pay for the groceries, but I assure you it's no trouble, and I have plenty of time, so groceries only. I insist.”
As Ralph and I sat at his kitchen table making a shopping list, I congratulated myself that my take-charge attitude had paid off. When we finished, Ralph started to get up, but winced with pain and dropped back into his chair.
“Can I get you some medication?”
“Yeah, right there on the window sill above the sink.”
“One or two?”
“Better make it two.”
I handed him two tablets with a glass of water, and he downed the pills.
“I was just going to grab my checkbook, but if you wouldn't mind—”
“Sure. Where is it?”
“In the den.” He gestured toward an arched doorway. “I think I left it on the coffee table. If not, it'll be on top of the desk.”
“Be right back.”
I found the checkbook on the coffee table, just as Ralph had said, but it wasn't the checkbook that caught my eye. There, hanging above the sofa, was the same painting I'd recognized in Ulysses's gallery show.
The same painting, but with one important difference—the artist's signature in the lower right corner read “Ralph Anderson.”
Ulysses had ripped off Ralph's painting! Not only that, but he'd also licensed the image for commercial sales. That's how my mother had come to buy her jigsaw puzzle. I probably wouldn't have remembered the picture so clearly if seeing Ulysses's painting in his show hadn't jogged my memory eventually, although at the time I couldn't remember where I'd seen it before.
I realized Ralph must be aware of what Ulysses had done, but he hadn't said anything about it at the gallery reception. I wondered if Ulysses had made some kind of a deal with Ralph. I intended to find out, and there was only one way to do it.
I returned to the kitchen, laid Ralph's checkbook on the table, and sat down across from him. The look on my face must have given me away.
“You saw the painting, didn't you?” Ralph asked.
“Yes. What's the story, Ralph? How is it that your painting is in Ulysses's show with his name on it?”
“He copied it, brushstroke for brushstroke. I painted it the summer Ulysses was one of the students in my class. He was very talented as far as his technical skills, and he could copy anything, but when it came to the composition of an original work, Ulysses struggled.”
“You mean you allowed Ulysses to copy your painting as an exercise?”
“No, I certainly did not. I didn't know he'd copied that piece until years later.”
“What did you do when you found out?”
“Nothing,” Ralph said with a sigh. “I was in a fairly deep depression at the time, and it was all I could do to keep going for the sake of my children. My wife had died after a long illness, and I was just about at the end of my rope, with the bills flooding in and trying to take care of the kids. I hadn't painted a thing in over a year, and I hadn't taught any classes, either. I didn't have the mental or emotional energy to pursue a case against Ulysses.”
“I'm sorry you went through all that. Obviously, you were able to turn it around at some point.”
“Finally, I realized that if I didn't do something, my kids would starve. My art business was kaput, and I knew it would take a long time to revive it. My health insurance had been canceled, too, and my family needed it, so I decided to get a job. I worked in the county assessor's office for years. I didn't get back to painting for quite a while after I started work, not till the kids were grown and gone.”
“It sounds as though you did what you needed to do.”
“I think so. I don't regret it.”
“But what about Ulysses's copying your painting? That's not right.”
“After all I'd been through, I never pursued it. I suppose I could have sued him, but, by that time, years had passed. He'd made a name for himself. It's entirely possible that he could have convinced a jury that I had copied his painting, rather than the other way around.”
“You never said anything to Ulysses about it?”
“I hadn't seen or talked to Ulysses since he took summer art classes from me. I wondered how he'd react when he saw me at his show's opening.”
“He acted as though you were long-lost friends.”
“Believe me, we were never friends.”
Chapter 29
“I don't know whether you remember him, but Lieutenant Belmont told me you let Ulysses stay in your studio a couple of times after his wife called the police because he hit her.”
“Bill Belmont? I know who he is, mainly because the chief mentions him once in a while.”
I'd forgotten that Ralph and Lonesome Valley's police chief were friends.
“Anyway, I let him stay in the studio a couple of times, although I warned him I wouldn't put up with his behavior after the second incident, talented student or not.”
“Did you know Ulysses's wife Jill?”
“Not well. What I remember most is the day she disappeared from our plein air paint-out. Ulysses was frantic until he found out she'd taken the opportunity to leave him while he was busy painting at the event.”
“Whatever became of her, I wonder.”
“I don't know. When he came back to class later, he acted embarrassed and he never mentioned her again.”
As we talked, I removed the casserole from the oven and set it on a trivet on the kitchen table. I found a plate in the cupboard and silverware in a drawer and set them in front of Ralph.
“Say, you don't have to wait on me. I can fend for myself.”
“I know, but I'm almost done,” I said, as I tossed the salad and placed a generous serving in a bowl for Ralph. Setting a ramekin of chocolate mousse next to the salad, I pronounced, “There you go.”
“Thanks, Amanda. Everything looks good, and I do appreciate it.”
“I'll be on my way now, but it might be a while before I come back with your groceries. I need to stop back home to pick up my next-door neighbor first.” I didn't mention our planned stop at the hospital.
I'd stayed a little bit longer at Ralph's house than I'd anticipated, but Belle and I still had plenty of time to catch up with Samantha before her shift ended. I called Belle before starting my SUV to let her know I was on the way.
She was outside at the curb, waiting for me when I arrived, and we headed to the hospital.
A couple of cars were exiting the hospital's parking lot when we arrived, so I turned into the front lot in hopes of snagging a spot that had just been vacated. We were in luck.
“This is the first time I've been able to park right out front,” I told Belle.
“Things should improve after the new parking garage is finished,” Belle commented.
We planned on heading up to the fourth floor and engaging Samantha in conversation. I thought I could remind her that I'd seen her in Lieutenant Belmont's room earlier in the day and ask her about his condition as an opener.
Before we reached the hospital's main entrance, we spotted Dawn and Dave coming out of the building.
“Hi, Amanda,” Dawn greeted me. “If you're here to check on Bill, we were just up at the ICU. He's doing all right, but they wouldn't let us visit him. They'll be moving him back to his room
tomorrow.” She turned to Belle. “I'm sorry I don't remember your name.”
“Belle Compton. We met a few months ago. My husband and my dog were with me. Amanda's dog, too.”
“Oh, sure. That was quite a night.” I'd solved a murder that evening, quite by accident, and Lieutenant Belmont never forgave me for it.
Dave looked at us, as though expecting us to turn around to leave now that they'd told us that Lieutenant Belmont couldn't have any visitors today, so I told him that the gift shop was featuring my scarves and that we wanted to check on sales. Of course, I'd only just dropped off the new stock this morning, so I doubted that there'd been any sales in the meantime, but I didn't want to tell Dave about our real mission in visiting the hospital. He already thought that nurse Samantha's resemblance to Jill was nothing more than a coincidence, and I didn't believe he'd appreciate my efforts to find out more about her. Anyway, as Belle had said, my idea about her being Jill's daughter could be way off base. It was little more than a hunch, really.
When we entered the lobby, Belle nudged me. “Let's check your scarf display.”
“OK, but I doubt anything's been sold since this morning.”
There was a different staffer, a woman I'd never seen before, in the gift shop this evening. Belle went straight to the scarf display, and the clerk said, “Those are really popular. I sold two this afternoon, and I'm going to buy one myself. I'm just trying to decide which color I want.”
When I let her know I'd made the scarves, she told me how much she liked them. As we left, Belle smiled. “I'd say it's going pretty well.”
“Thanks to you and Dennis. Your display idea really helped.”
“I'm glad. I'm going to ask Dennis to make another display stand. Then we can pitch some boutiques.”
“That would be great,” I said, as I walked toward the elevator. “I have to get busy and dye more scarves. After delivering the gift shop's order, I have just enough of them left to display in the studio for tours.”
“Which floor?” a white-coated man asked as we boarded the elevator.
“Fourth, please.”
We must have come at peak visiting time, I thought, as we squeezed into the crowded elevator, but by the time it reached the fourth floor, half of its occupants had departed.
We went straight to the nursing station where I asked for Samantha, explaining that I'd seen her earlier in the day and I wanted to talk to her.
“Sorry, you've missed her. She worked half a shift today. Can I help you?”
“No, that's OK.” I didn't want to say anything to make the other nurses suspicious. “I'll try to catch her tomorrow, when I come back to visit my friend.”
“She won't be here. She's not scheduled to work again until Friday.”
“All right. Friday, then.” I tried to sound casual. The less I said, the better. If they thought I was trying to find out personal information about her, they might warn her off.
We hadn't accomplished our mission at the hospital, but, at least, we'd learned when Samantha would be back on duty. I hated to wait until Friday to talk to her, but there didn't seem to be any alternative.
When we arrived at the supermarket, Belle and I both grabbed carts and proceeded aisle-by-aisle to shop the store. Since I'd already done my grocery shopping for the week in the morning, I concentrated exclusively on Ralph's list, while Belle filled her cart. The store wasn't very busy, and we were able to check out without waiting in a long line. Belle had brought her own cloth bags, so we wouldn't have any difficulty knowing which groceries to unload at Ralph's.
Outside lights blazed from above his garage door as I pulled into the well-illuminated driveway. The winding sidewalk to the front door was lined with more discreet light fixtures that had a subtle glow.
Belle and I both picked up a couple of bags. Since I now knew where the side door was located, I tapped on that. Ralph must have been waiting in the kitchen because it didn't take him nearly as long to answer the door as it had earlier.
He stepped back after opening the door, and we put the bags on the kitchen countertop. Before making another trip to the SUV for the rest of the groceries, I introduced Belle and Ralph. He took his right hand off the walker and held it out to shake hands with her. I noticed she winced a bit as they shook.
“For someone who has arthritis, he has quite a grip,” she told me when we went back to the SUV to retrieve the rest of the groceries.
“His pain is worse some days than others. He told me sometimes it's so bad, he can't hold a brush to paint.”
“That must be awful for an artist as accomplished as he is.”
I nodded. I knew I'd feel terribly frustrated if I wasn't able to paint, and I was sure Ralph felt the same way.
Back inside. Ralph told us where to stash everything, and we made short work of putting the food away. We didn't linger afterwards since Belle had some cold items in her bags and she'd need to refrigerate them soon.
Laddie and Mr. Big greeted us joyfully at Belle's, and Dennis quickly grabbed our grocery bags so that we could pet our excited canines.
“They should sleep well tonight,” he said. “Laddie chased his ball for a long time, and Mr. Big chased Laddie. They both ought to feel exhausted, even though they've been napping while I made you another scarf display, Amanda.”
“I was going to ask you to do that,” Belle said. “Great minds think alike,” she added, as she kissed him.
“Thanks so much, Dennis. The first one we took to the hospital gift shop made all the difference. I don't know that the shop would be selling them right now if not for you.”
Dennis beamed. “You know I'm always happy to help, and I bet I know someone else who'd be more than willing to lend a hand, too.”
“Who?”
“Your other next-door neighbor, Brian. I get the feeling he likes you.”
“What did I tell you, Amanda?” Belle piped up. “I'm not the only one who's noticed.”
I supposed I'd have to concede that Brian's odd, sudden discomfiture and abrupt departure from my studio in the afternoon might mean something. Perhaps he was interested in me.
I didn't know whether I was ready for that kind of attention from a man. Although it had been a little over a year since Ned had divorced me, the time had flown, and, once in a while, it seemed like only yesterday. I'd been hurt, and I didn't want to be hurt again. I was happy with the new life I'd created in Lonesome Valley, and I wasn't sure I wanted anything more. On the other hand, I wasn't sure I should rule it out, either.
“What do you think, boy?” I asked Laddie, as we walked home across Belle's front yard, but his only response was his wagging tail.
Chapter 30
By mid-morning the next day, I was fretting that my customer who'd commissioned the painting of her Siamese cats still had not paid my PayBuddy invoice. I was debating whether to contact her when she called me to let me know that she'd found the perfect frame online from the resort's frame shop, and they would be expecting me to drop off the portrait today. I replied that I'd be happy to do that as soon as I received payment for it. This statement provoked a flurry of apologies from my customer, who promised to take care of it right away. I was pleasantly surprised to find she had done so when I checked my email and found a notification from PayBuddy that money had been deposited to my account. Since she'd paid me, my incipient irritation with her vanished. I emailed her a thank-you message and promised to let her know as soon as I delivered the portrait safely to the frame shop.
Although I'd planned on working on my painting, I decided it would be a better idea to deliver the pet portrait to the frame shop right away. I didn't plan to be gone long, but I put a treat in both Laddie's and Mona Lisa's bowls in the kitchen to distract them from my imminent departure. Of course, Laddie wasn't fooled, and Mona Lisa probably didn't care one way or the other, but it made me feel better, even though I knew perfectly well that they could cope on their own for a few hours.
Carefully, I secured the Siamese ca
ts portrait in the back of my SUV so that it wouldn't slide around. I drew a few stares from people shopping at the resort's mall as I carried it toward the frame shop, but most of them were too busy peeking into the windows of the high-end shops that lined the mall to notice me.
I entered the frame shop and headed toward the counter. I didn't see anybody inside, but there was a back room where the actual framing was done, so I assumed somebody would come to the front to assist me in short order. As I walked toward the counter, passing the doorway that connected the frame shop and the Brooks Miller Gallery next door, I was literally blindsided and knocked to the floor.
If I'd heard someone coming toward me, perhaps I would have had a chance to react and protect the painting, but, as it was, it had flown out of my hands when I'd been knocked down. I was so dazed for a minute that I lay there, trying to assess the damage. I'd gone down hard on the tile floor. Both my knees were protesting, and my right wrist didn't feel much better. I looked up and, for the first time, saw who'd run into me.
Groaning, I slowly got to my feet, looking toward the painting that had flown out of my hands, rather than at Gabrielle, who'd knocked me down. She must have been coming into the frame shop at a pretty good clip to have hit me so hard, I thought.
Instead of apologizing, she blamed me. “How could you be so clumsy?” she demanded.
“Now, wait just a second! You ran into me. I didn't even see you coming.”
“You should watch where you're going,” she sneered.
“I saw what happened,” a deep voice proclaimed. “You're the one who should be apologizing.”
Brooks had come out of the back room and was glaring at his wife.
“That does it!” Gabrielle snapped. “I can't believe you'd take her side. Why is she always hanging around, anyway?”
“I have business here,” I said, picking up the portrait to examine it. If the painting had been damaged, I'd feel even angrier at Gabrielle than I did already.
Brooks came over, took the portrait from me, and placed it on the counter. “It looks like one corner took the brunt,” he said, “but it's not too bad. We can repair it.”
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