“That's typical of you, Brooks,” Gabrielle complained. “You care more for everybody else than you do for me.”
Brooks ignored her comment. “I believe you owe our customer an apology. You ran into her.”
“Unbelievable! That proves what I said. You couldn't care less about me.”
“I've tried to accommodate you in every way I can. I've stood by while you acted like a spoiled brat and supported you because you're my wife, but I've had it up to here with your petty bad behavior and your tantrums.”
“You're just like Ulysses. He never gave any credit to Olivia, and you never give any credit to me. If I hadn't been your gallery manager in your downtown location, you never would have sold any of your awful art.”
I drew in my breath, shocked that Gabrielle would tell Brooks his artwork was bad. Granted, she wasn't wrong, and I suspected that Brooks realized it now, too, although, when he owned the old gallery, I believe he'd truly thought he was a great artist. He'd obviously changed course in his career in the art world, shifting from studio artist to art gallery owner, so it was nothing other than downright mental cruelty for Gabrielle to tell her husband his artwork was bad at this late stage, after he'd already forsaken it.
Brooks looked as stunned as if she'd smacked him in the face, but Gabrielle continued, oblivious to his reaction to her rant. “You promised me the moon when we met in New York, but this isn't what I signed up for. I do all the work, and you take all the credit.”
“That's not fair, and you know it. I've given you everything you ever asked for.”
“No way. You don't appreciate me at all. I was better off in New York. This hick town is the pits. They roll up the sidewalks at six o'clock around here. We haven't even gone to a nightclub all year. I can't take it anymore. I'm out of here.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is I'm leaving you! I'm going back to New York. You'll be hearing from my lawyers. I'm getting a divorce!”
With that shocking announcement, Gabrielle turned on her six-inch Louboutin heel and stalked off.
I thought Brooks might go after her, but he stayed in the frame shop and proceeded to examine the Siamese cats portrait more closely.
Much as I felt like slinking out, I knew I needed to make sure the painting could be repaired and properly framed, despite the damage. I couldn't just go on to business, though. Awkward as it might be, I felt I should acknowledge the scene I'd just witnessed.
“Brooks, I'm sorry. Maybe you should go after Gabrielle.” Although I thought Gabrielle was behaving badly and her reaction to his suggestion that she apologize to me had seemed extreme, she was Brooks's wife. Perhaps she'd cool down before taking steps to leave Brooks and divorce him.
“Don't be sorry,” he said. “She may be fed up with me, but I'm fed up with her, too. She's spoiled and unpleasant to be around most of the time. I put up with it because she's a beautiful woman, but there's a limit to what I'll tolerate from her or anybody else. This has been building for a long time. It has nothing to do with what just happened here, and, by the way, I'm the one who's sorry. I apologize to you for the way she's acted toward you, while I stood by and never said a word.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, rubbing my throbbing wrist.
We turned our attention back to the painting, and Brooks assured me again that they could repair the damage, and it would look perfect in the frame my customer had selected. He wrote me a receipt for delivery and confirmed that the frame shop would take on the responsibility of shipping the painting to the customer.
My right knee hurt so badly as I walked back through the mall that I was limping. I knew both knees would be turning black and blue. I'd hit the tiled floor in the frame shop hard, and I still felt shaky from the incident. I never could fathom why Gabrielle had always ignored me, although she certainly hadn't done that today. After hearing what Brooks had said about his own wife, I thought the explanation might be as simple as the fact that she wasn't a very nice person, one Brooks was probably better off without.
Gabrielle had been awfully quick to say that she was returning to New York. I was betting she'd already made plans to leave Brooks and Lonesome Valley behind and had been looking for an excuse to announce her departure. Or maybe she'd come into the frame shop intending to tell Brooks she was going to divorce him and I happened to get in her way.
After I left the resort, I sat in my SUV for a few minutes, trying to calm down, because, now that I thought about it, I was even angrier that Gabrielle had knocked me to the floor and then blamed me for getting in her way. I remembered that, only a few months ago, Dustin had been so taken with her beauty that he'd asked her out. Luckily, nothing had come of that date, since he'd canceled it when he'd found out that she was married. He'd dodged a bullet there, I thought. I couldn't say I was sorry to see her leave town.
After I steadied myself a bit, I started the car and headed to the hospital. Lieutenant Belmont should have been moved back into his room by now, and, although I didn't look forward to sparring with the grumpy lieutenant, I wanted to find out whether he could tell me more about Jill.
When I arrived at the hospital, I stopped at the reception desk in the lobby to confirm that Lieutenant Belmont had been moved back to his room. If he was still in the ICU, I wouldn't be able to visit him, but, since the receptionist gave me 402 as his room number, I boarded the elevator and went to the fourth floor.
The lieutenant's eyes were closed when I entered his room, and he lay very still. I thought he must be asleep, so I began to tiptoe toward the door, but he startled me by coughing and then raising his bed so that he sat up. He looked ghastly pale.
“Don't ask. I feel terrible.”
It was difficult to know what to say to him. I knew he had a long road ahead of him, and his attitude wouldn't make it any easier.
“You're only a day out of surgery. Give it some time. Can I get you that glass of water now?”
He glared at me and burst out laughing. “No water, but I could sure go for that cheeseburger you wouldn't bring me the other day.”
“Ha ha. You know I can't do that.”
At least he hadn't lost his spunk.
“Well, OK,” he said grudgingly. “Maybe next time. How about making yourself useful and watering that scraggly plant you brought me? It looks worse than I feel.”
“I can do that.” I poured some water from the pitcher into an extra cup and dribbled it slowly onto the soil around the plant. It did look a little droopy, but it certainly wasn't scraggly.
When I finished, I sat down in a chair beside his bed.
“Remember that nurse you called Jill right before your surgery?”
“Yeah, what of it?”
“Ulysses thought he'd seen Jill, too. Of course, she couldn't be Jill; she's too young, but do you know whether or not Jill has a daughter?”
“No idea,” he said, but he suddenly looked more alert than he had earlier. “She looked just like Jill, though. It's uncanny.” He paused. “Funny that I should remember her so well after so long.”
“Did you ever see her again after you located her in Sedona?”
“Nope. That was it. You think the nurse bumped off Ulysses as some kind of revenge for the way he treated her mother?”
“The thought had occurred to me.”
“Unlikely. We don't know that Jill and the nurse are even related.”
“But what if they are? Either one of them could have a motive, but the nurse—Samantha's her name—also had the means and opportunity. She could have sedated Ulysses before she strangled him, and he wouldn't have known what was happening.”
“Whoa! Slow down. That might be a bridge too far.”
“Maybe, but it's worth checking on, don't you think?”
Chapter 31
“Does Dave know what you're up to?”
“I spoke with him about Samantha. At the time, we both thought that it was an odd coincidence that both you and Ulysses said she looked like Jill. He d
id tell me that he planned to look into Jill, though.”
“Makes sense,” he said thoughtfully. “Ex-spouse and all. I'll see what I can get out of him when he and Dawn come to visit me tonight.”
“Will you keep me posted?”
“Only if you keep me posted.”
“I suppose it wouldn't hurt,” I agreed, against my better judgment. I still felt bad that the lieutenant had suffered his life-altering heart attack in my living room. Besides, I told myself, the only time he seemed to forget his health problems was when he concentrated on a case. I knew Dawn and Dave wanted to keep him in the dark about any police business while he recuperated from his bypass surgery, so I felt somewhat guilty in encouraging his interest, but I rationalized that it was a potentially productive distraction for the dour lieutenant.
“See if you can track down Jill, and I'll find out what I can about Samantha.”
The lieutenant seemed to enjoy bossing me around, but since his command aligned with my plans, anyway, I agreed.
“By the way,” I told him, “nurse Samantha won't be back on duty until Friday, so you won't be able to talk to her until then.”
“Checked on her schedule already, did you?” He looked at me with a hint of grudging approval. “No matter. I'll find out what we need to know before then. You just concentrate on finding Jill.”
“You don't happen to remember the name of the restaurant in Sedona where you saw her last, do you?”
“Nope, but I know exactly where it was.” He told me the location and insisted on drawing a map. “Not much to go on after all these years, but it's a place to start. I assume you've already tried to track her down online.”
I nodded.
“Figures. Well, Dave might have more luck at that than you will. I'll see what I can get out of him when Dawn's not around.”
I was fairly sure Dave Martinez wasn't going to share the details of his investigation with Lieutenant Belmont. The sergeant was convinced that the detective should remain in the dark while he recovered.
When I didn't respond, the lieutenant glowered at me. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get out of here, and let a dying man rest in peace.”
I started to protest that he wasn't dying when I saw a shadow of a smirk cross his face.
“Yes, sir,” I said with a straight face. I decided I might as well play along with him. At least the prospect of an investigation had captured his interest, and he'd perked up a bit.
By the time I arrived home, both my knees were swollen. I took an Ibuprofen and put some ice in a couple of sandwich bags, wrapped a hand towel around each, and sat on the sofa with my legs propped up and a bag of ice on each knee. Mona Lisa jumped on my lap and began meowing loudly, while Laddie sat beside me and rested his head against my leg. Mona Lisa didn't appreciate the competition, and I was lucky I sensed what was coming in time to prevent her from raking her claws over Laddie's nose. As it was, she took a swipe at him, but I deflected her paw, and she ended up scratching me instead.
“Ouch!” I exclaimed, as I picked her up and moved her away from Laddie. “Behave yourself.”
She jumped onto my left shoulder before leaping down and stalking off to her perch. Meanwhile, Laddie crowded close to me, begging to be petted. “Sibling rivalry, huh, boy?” I murmured, as I obliged him for a few minutes. When I rose to tend to my latest wound, Laddie glanced at Mona Lisa with a see-she-likes-me-better-than-you look, and she hissed at him before turning her back to both of us.
Icing my knees and taking the pain medication helped, and I was no longer limping, so I decided to spend the afternoon in the studio, where I turned my attention to the unfinished pet portrait of a solemn bloodhound with soulful eyes. I'd neglected this one a bit, prioritizing the portrait of the Siamese cats because that order had been placed first, but I'd also worked on my latest landscape before getting back to the bloodhound whose name was Toby. Fortunately, I'd estimated I would finish Toby's portrait in mid-October, so I had plenty of time to finish it if only I'd stick to a more regular work schedule.
I'd already decided that I'd interrupt my painting the next morning to drive to Sedona in hopes of picking up Jill's trail. I thought the chances of finding any clue to Jill's current whereabouts were quite slim, so, to justify the trip, I also planned to make a few sales calls to boutiques there in hopes of landing another wholesale account for my silk scarves.
After spending a few hours in the studio, I decided to call it quits. I'd made good progress, and Toby's portrait was shaping up very nicely, but my wrist had begun to throb again, and I thought it best to give it a rest.
I called Belle to let her know my plans. Although she wanted to come with me, she'd be doing her voluntary work in the library in the afternoon. Since there was a good chance the trip could run into the afternoon, she thought she should skip it. She asked me to drop Laddie off at her house when I was ready to leave so that he and Mr. Big could play. If I wasn't back by the time she had to leave for the library, she'd take Laddie back home, so the two dogs wouldn't be left to their own devices.
After an early dinner, I iced my knees again. Although they weren't especially bothering me, I thought it might keep the swelling down. By the time I returned my makeshift ice packs to my crowded freezer, I was feeling fairly good, and the evening was so pleasant that I decided to take Laddie for a walk. We could always turn around and come back if the pain started again, so, rather than heading toward the park and possibly disappointing Laddie if we had to turn back, I started off in the other direction, turning left when we reached the front sidewalk.
This way took us past Brian's house. I didn't really expect to see him outside, but his garage door was open, and I could see him at his workbench. He looked up as we crossed his driveway, hesitated for a few seconds, and then called to me. We stopped, and Brian came out to greet us. Laddie whipped his tail back and forth when he saw Brian coming toward us, and my golden boy's tail moved even faster when Brian scratched him behind the ears.
“Out for a walk?” he asked.
“Yes, probably just a short one.” I didn't tell him my reason for keeping it short. It would have been difficult to explain my accident without mentioning the argument it had sparked. Brian didn't know Gabrielle or Brooks, and I couldn't imagine that he'd have any interest in their domestic squabbles.
“Mind if I join you?”
“We don't mind.” I smiled. “You're welcome to come along.”
“Let me close the garage door.” He returned to the garage, punched a code into the outside remote control, and the door rolled down and closed. He joined us, and we started walking at a leisurely stroll, rather than a brisk clip.
“It's nice that you have a garage. My carport's all right, but I hate to store things in it since it's open. I have to keep my microwave in there, though, because I really don't have room for it inside.”
“You keep your microwave in the carport?”
“Oh, it's not the one I use for reheating food. I use it for setting the dye on the silk scarves I make. Otherwise, I'd have to steam-set them, and that's an even messier process.” I realized I was getting a bit carried away. I doubted that Brian was interested in my methods of dying scarves.
“Oh, I see. You know you might consider enclosing your carport. It shouldn't be too big a job to finish it and install an automatic door.”
“That sounds like a good idea, but I can't move it to my priority list just yet.” Even though Brian didn't view it as a big job, I thought it would most likely be a costly one, something I should put off until I could build up my savings, which were nil right at the moment. As it had been since the day I moved to Lonesome Valley, my focus remained making enough money to pay my bills every month.
“Maybe something to consider in the future,” he said amiably. I was glad he didn't continue to push his idea. If it had been Ned, he never would have stopped trying to convince me to do what he wanted until I did it.
“What's it like living out in the middle of the o
cean for half the year?” I asked, switching gears. “I'm curious.” I'd never known someone who worked on an oil rig. Although the job sounded somewhat exotic, I was guessing that it had become routine for Brian.
“Well, it's different, all right. Obviously, we can't run out for fast food or go to the latest movie at the drop of a hat. It took me a while to get used to it, and the schedule has its drawbacks, but it has some benefits, too. When I'm working, it's easier to concentrate on getting the job done. There aren't the distractions that come with most jobs.”
“I can understand that. I'm afraid I get distracted from my painting all too often. What else?”
“When I'm not on the rig, I'm off work. I mean I'm really off work. I don't think about it because I'm not there, and somebody else is covering the job while I'm home. There's a total separation between work and home, and I kind of like that because my job isn't my life. Not like you. You're an artist. You live your art every day.”
“Wow! I guess that's true. I hadn't really thought about it that way, but my life really does revolve around my art now.”
Of course, I made time for some other pursuits, too. Tomorrow, I'd be pursuing Jill's trail in Sedona. I knew the chances of finding Ulysses' ex-wife were extremely slim at best, but I intended to try.
Chapter 32
Brian and I had a pleasant walk with Laddie. I learned that he'd worked on an oil rig from the time he'd graduated from community college, starting from the bottom and working his way up to his manager's job and earning his bachelor's degree online along the way. Every four weeks, he boarded a plane to Texas, and his company's helicopter flew the employees who were coming on duty out to the rig.
Although he'd mentioned his time was his own when he wasn't working, he hadn't really said what he liked to do. From the magazines and books I'd noticed on his coffee table the day he bought my landscape, I deduced that he was somewhat of a history buff. I'd also noticed lots of tools hanging on the wall above his garage workbench, so I thought he might have something in common with Dennis, who could fix just about anything around the house.
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