Vanished into Plein Air

by Paula Darnell

  I headed home, determined to work on my portrait of Toby. With luck, I'd be able to complete my work on it in a few more days. Just in time, I thought, since I'd received an email inquiry about another pet portrait before I'd left for the gallery earlier. At this point, I didn't have a firm commitment from the buyer, but she'd sounded very interested, so I sent her some more information and a sample contract to look over. I hoped she'd get back to me soon.

  After that, I concentrated on Toby's painting, while Laddie snoozed on his bed. Every once in a while, I'd step back to view what I'd painted from a different perspective. The portrait was coming along nicely.

  Laddie jumped up and ran to the studio door, so I knew someone was coming up the walk, but I hadn't heard a thing. I swung open the door, and Belle stepped inside, pausing to pet Laddie.

  “I knew you'd be working, so I came around the side of the house,” she said. Usually, Belle came to my kitchen door when she visited me.

  “What's up? Would you like some coffee?”

  “No, thanks, Amanda. I'm in a bit of a rush. I told Dennis I'd meet him at the paint store to pick out our colors. We're going to redecorate all three bedrooms. I came to ask to borrow your red two-quart dish. I'm taking a casserole to our Library Auxiliary lunch meeting tomorrow, and I broke the dish I was planning on using.”

  “Sure.”

  “I can get it. I know you're working. Just point me in the right direction.”

  “It's in the bottom cabinet to the right of the sink, on the first shelf.”

  The minute Belle left the room, Laddie raced to the door again. This time, it was Brian.

  “Amanda, I . . . I wanted to tell you what a good time I had last evening,” he said, leaning toward me, much as he had the previous evening.

  “Amanda, I can't find it,” Belle said, as she came back into the studio.

  Brian jumped back as though he'd heard a shot and turned red.

  “Oh, hi, Brian,” Belle said lightly.

  “I'd better go,” he said.

  “You just got here,” Belle protested, but Brian was long gone by the time she got the words out of her mouth.

  Chapter 37

  “That's strange,” she said. “I wonder why he left in such a big hurry. I didn't interrupt anything, did I?”

  “No, he just showed up a few seconds ago.” I snapped my fingers. “I just remembered. I left my red dish at Ralph's the other night. I'll run by and pick it up as soon as I'm finished here.”

  “Don't go to any trouble, Amanda.”

  “It's no trouble, really. I need to pick it up, anyway, and it'll give me the perfect excuse to check on Ralph. I'll bring it over this evening.”

  “Well, if you're sure. . . .”

  “Of course I am. It's no problem. See you later.”

  After Belle left, I decided I should probably take Ralph something for his dinner tonight. Despite all the groceries now in his larder, I didn't know how much cooking he did. After I put my paints away for the day, I made some cheese and sour cream enchiladas to take to him.

  Although I hadn't planned on going out again, my errand shouldn't take too long. I picked up Mona Lisa to give her a cuddle, and when I set her down, she scampered off. Laddie stayed by my side until I inched the kitchen door open and assured him I'd be back soon to spend a quiet evening at home.

  This time, I didn't need any help from my GPS genie to find my way to Ralph's house. When I parked in the driveway, I saw that Ralph's garage door was up, but it was what I saw inside that aroused my curiosity. There, parked next to his Lincoln Town Car, was a large black pickup truck, the same type of truck I'd seen near the tennis courts when I'd delivered the ransom. I'd never seen Ralph drive any vehicle other than his Town Car. I reminded myself that there must be loads of similar trucks in town, but this was a dark-colored truck like the witness had reported spotting at the scene of Ulysses's accident.

  I couldn't resist the urge to satisfy my curiosity. Passing between the Lincoln and the pickup, I walked to the back of the garage and examined the black truck's bumper. It was scratched, and there was a fair amount of white paint on it. I didn't have time to contemplate my next move, because I could hear Ralph's kitchen door opening. Foolishly, I crouched behind the truck. I didn't know whether Ralph would recognize the car parked in his driveway as mine, but he'd certainly know someone was around.

  “Hello?” he called. I watched as he circled my car, walking without any aid from his cane or his walker.

  Looking around, I saw that there was a back door to the garage. I crept toward it, turned the handle, and gave it a yank. The door didn't budge.

  “Anybody here?” Ralph called.

  He sounded closer, and when I peeked around the truck, I could see that he was coming toward me. Desperately, I rattled the door handle again, but it was no use. The door was locked.

  “Who's there?”

  I didn't have any choice but to show myself at this point.

  “Amanda, what are you doing in here?”

  “I was just going to look for you in the backyard,” I said, “but the door's locked.”

  He came toward me, and I tried to back away, but the truck was parked so close to the side of the garage that I couldn't get through.

  “Come on out, Amanda. I'm not going to hurt you,” he said wearily. “I suppose you saw it, didn't you?”

  I nodded.

  “I guess it's time to come clean,” he said. “I almost told the chief right after I heard Ulysses had died. I thought I'd killed him, but when I found out he'd been murdered, I decided to keep my mouth shut.”

  “Oh, Ralph!” My fleeting fear of him had evaporated. He sounded sincere.

  “I'm going to turn myself in, Amanda. I'm going to call the chief right now.” True to his word, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, made the call, and put it on speaker.

  I realized that Ralph was still trying to reassure me that I didn't need to be afraid of him.

  I could hear a man's deep voice on the other end and the brief conversation between the two. The chief and Ralph were longtime friends, so I wasn't surprised when the chief told him to wait for him at home, that he'd come over soon.

  “OK?” Ralph asked after he returned the phone to his pocket.

  “OK,” I agreed. “Whatever were you thinking, Ralph?”

  “Let's go inside, Amanda. You already know part of the story.”

  “All right,” I agreed. “Oh, wait a minute. I brought you something.” I went to the car and grabbed the tray of enchiladas, but I nearly dropped it when I turned around and Ralph was standing right in back of me!

  He held up both hands. “Whoa! I didn't mean to startle you. Let me take that.”

  I handed him the tray, and we went inside, where he set it on the counter. I noticed he was still walking normally. There was no cane or walker in sight.

  “Your arthritis must be better,” I commented.

  “Not better. It never goes away, but the pain has. My doctor started me on some new meds.”

  I felt a bit ashamed that I'd suspected him of faking the effects of his debilitating arthritis when he'd caught me in the garage and I'd noticed he wasn't having any difficulty walking.

  “Were you in on the kidnapping, too?”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “Olivia was kidnapped. That's the reason Ulysses was out driving that night. He was on his way to pick her up after the ransom was paid.”

  “I didn't know. Maybe if I had, I wouldn't have done what I did. No. I'm afraid I followed Ulysses on the spur of the moment. I happened to be at the resort for dinner that evening, and I saw him leaving the parking area just as the valet brought my truck around. I don't know what I had in mind when I started after him, but I followed him. Then, I took it into my head to give him a scare. I figured it would serve him right for ripping off my painting and then acting as though we were buddies when I came to his show at Brooks's new gallery. Did he honestly think I was so s
tupid that I didn't know what he'd done? Anyway, I miscalculated when I came up behind him. I wasn't trying to hit his car, but I stepped on the gas too hard. You know the rest.”

  “You should have stopped at the scene.”

  “I know. What can I say? I panicked. I may be old, but I'm not too wise. When I found out Ulysses was in a coma, I almost called the chief to tell him what I'd done, but, well, I didn't want to spend my last years in prison, even though I deserve it.”

  I could hardly believe what Ralph had told me, but the white marks on the bumper of his truck certainly confirmed his story, and the painting displayed in his den served as a daily reminder of the wrong Ulysses had done to him.

  When the chief arrived, we all sat at Ralph's kitchen table while he repeated his story.

  “Ralph, I won't kid you. You're in some trouble here.” The chief pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to Ralph. “Call this guy, and then have him call me. He's the best criminal attorney in town. You're going to need him. We'll arrange for you to turn yourself in sometime tomorrow. If you're lucky, your lawyer can work out a plea deal with the district attorney.”

  “Will I go to jail?”

  “Call him.”

  Chapter 38

  I was so shaken by Ralph's unexpected confession that I almost forgot to pick up my red casserole dish that I'd promised to loan Belle. Ralph's mood had remained resolute. He'd called the lawyer, as the chief had suggested, only to be shunted to voice mail, and he had to leave a message. When I left, he was staring at his phone, waiting for the attorney to return his call.

  Belle's eyes widened when I told her that Ralph had admitted to causing Ulysses's accident. We talked for a while after I dropped off my red dish and concluded that the mysteries had been solved: Ralph had caused Ulysses's auto accident; Gabrielle had been behind Olivia's kidnapping; Samantha had strangled her own father.

  “Get some rest,” Belle urged me, as I got up to go home. “You look tired.”

  “I will. It's been a long day. I'm still having trouble wrapping my mind around Ralph as a hit-and-run driver. I wonder what will happen to him.”

  “If his lawyer's as good as the chief said, maybe he'll avoid prison.”

  I wondered about that myself, as I tossed and turned for most of the night. Ralph said he hadn't intended to bump Ulysses's car, but his driving had been reckless and he'd left the scene of the accident he'd caused.

  Sometime during the night, I finally drifted off. The next morning, I was shocked to see that it was a few minutes after seven when Laddie and Mona Lisa both piled on me. I'd been dimly aware that they were after me to get up for several minutes, but I'd kept my eyes closed and played possum while Laddie had nudged me, and Mona Lisa had batted at my right arm.

  “OK, you win,” I said sleepily, as I rolled out of bed. Feeling groggy, I put the kettle on and filled their bowls while I waited for the water to boil. I definitely needed a strong pot of tea to kick-start my day, but I didn't have a chance to take a sip before my phone rang.

  “Guess who's on duty.” This time, I recognized Lieutenant Belmont's voice.

  “You mean—?”

  “Yeah, that nurse Samantha. She's here. You have to find out what's going on. I can't get a hold of Dave. He didn't come with Dawn to visit me last night, and he's not answering my calls.”

  “What makes you think he'll tell me anything?'

  “You put him onto her in the first place.”

  “I suppose I could ask him, but he may not want to tell me.”

  “Oh, he'll tell you, all right. You have a way of worming information out of people.”

  “I'm not sure about that. Anyway, I need to wake up before I do anything.”

  “Well, get with it. I've been awake for hours,” he grumbled. He hung up before I could respond.

  I took my time drinking my tea and puttering around the house. Laddie was begging to go for a walk, but I was still in my robe. I took him out to the backyard for a game of fetch instead. After a while, I realized I was deliberately stalling. I was just as curious as Lieutenant Belmont to know why Dave had released Samantha. However, I didn't have the same confidence as the lieutenant did that Dave would share that information with me. Besides, I still felt a bit fuzzy headed. I took a shower, hoping it might help me revive. Afterward, I felt more alert. I dressed and went to the kitchen to brew another pot of tea.

  I was turning the burner on when Dave called me himself, asking me if I could come to the station to formally identify the gym bag that Brooks had turned in. I told him I'd be there in a few minutes, but I didn't ask him about Samantha, reasoning that he might be more likely to tell me why she was back at work if I asked him in person.

  Brooks was coming out of the station as I was going in. He told me he'd signed a statement identifying the gym bag as the same bag we'd used to deliver the ransom money. “This has been a terrible week,” he told me. “Ulysses's death, then finding out Gabrielle wants a divorce, and learning that she's a kidnapper.” He sounded dejected, and no wonder. Not only had his wife left him, but she'd also turned out to be a criminal. “Well, I'd better get back to the resort and see whether Olivia needs any help. She's going back to Santa Fe this afternoon to arrange for the memorial now that the coroner's released Ulysses's body.”

  Dave Martinez was waiting for me at the reception area inside the station.

  “Hello, Amanda.” He lifted the gym bag onto the counter between us. “Look familiar?”

  “They all look alike, but the one I used had a white scuff mark on the inside of the handle. There.” I pointed to the mark.

  “You're sure this is the same bag, then?”

  “I'm sure. I remember the shape of the mark, because it kind of looks like a lightning bolt.”

  “Oh, yeah; I see. I need you to sign a statement confirming your identification.”

  “Sure.”

  “This will just take a second.” He quickly typed the statement, printed it, and handed it to me.

  “Here you are,” I said, after I read it and signed on the dotted line. “Say, Dave, I was wondering about Samantha.” I tried to sound nonchalant, although I wasn't sure I'd pulled it off.

  He didn't seem to notice my effort to appear casual, though.

  “Iron-clad alibi for the time of the murder. She was involved in a fender bender on her way to work on the morning Ulysses was killed. Mike Dyson went to the scene and wrote the report. She didn't do it, and neither did her mother. Jill, or Beth as she calls herself now, was in Sedona at some breakfast meeting when Ulysses was strangled. She has about thirty witnesses to vouch for her. We're going to have to look elsewhere for the killer.”

  “I'm glad they weren't involved,” I said. “They sure seemed like good suspects, though.”

  Evidently, I'd been too hasty to believe that Ulysses's murder had been solved. As I drove away from the police station, it occurred to me that, if Samantha hadn't known that Ulysses was her father, she must know by now, after all the police questioning.

  In everything I'd ever read about Ulysses—and I'd read a considerable amount since Brooks had first announced that Ulysses would be the featured artist in his new gallery's first show—there had never been any mention of Ulysses's having children. In fact, one article praised the artist for his generous contributions to a children's charity “despite having no children of his own.”

  If I'd been Samantha, I'd have been tempted to take the day off, but Lieutenant Belmont had told me she was on duty. I was thinking about how the innocent nurse had been a victim, too, although not as great a victim as her father. Samantha was alive and well, and her father was not.

  Suddenly, it hit me! I pulled over to the curb, grabbed my cell phone, and did a quick Internet search, which confirmed my fears.

  There was just one more piece of the puzzle to fit into place.

  Chapter 39

  “Remember yesterday, when I told you Ulysses had a daughter?”

  “How could I forget th
at bombshell?” Brooks said. “She's the main suspect in his murder, isn't she?”

  “Not anymore. She has an airtight alibi, according to the police. Did you mention he has a daughter to anyone else?”

  “I told Olivia. I thought she'd want to know that the police had a suspect.”

  “So she knows Ulysses has a daughter?”

  “She does now. I think it came as a shock to her.”

  “Brooks, this is important. Could you please make sure Olivia doesn't leave the resort?”

  “Why, Amanda? What's going on?”

  “I don't have time to explain right now. Please, Brooks!”

  “All right.”

  My hands trembled as I called the police station. When I asked for Dave Martinez, I was unceremoniously cut off and put through to his voice mail. I left a message, before immediately calling Lieutenant Belmont.

  He answered my call with a question: “Find out anything?”

  “Yes. Listen. Nurse Samantha may be in danger! Can you get her to come to your room and stay there?”

  I expected an argument or a demand for an explanation, but I didn't get one. Instead, the lieutenant snapped “on it” and hung up.

  I worked myself into a state of near panic as I sped toward the hospital. Frustratingly, I had to park a block away, and I was breathless from running by the time I entered the lobby, where I planned to ask the receptionist to put me in touch with the hospital's security supervisor. There was a line at the reception center, though, and I didn't think I dared wait.

  I did have to wait for the elevator. What seemed like a maddeningly long time was very likely only a few seconds, as I forced myself to stay put, knowing it would take me less time to go upstairs in the elevator than it would for me to climb the stairs when I already felt winded from running from my car to the hospital.

  When the lift arrived, I jumped inside and pushed the button for the fourth floor before an approaching couple could reach the elevator.

  “Sorry,” I called, as the door slid shut. “Emergency!”

  As I stepped off, on the fourth floor, my phone rang. I glanced at it. “Brooks?”