Artistic License to Kill

by Paula Darnell

  “Thanks, Ralph. I'm going to help out at the fair. Maybe I should check with her.” I wandered back to the meeting room. I couldn't go into the room without thinking about my membership interview there, not a pleasant memory for me.

  “Carrie, hi. I'm Amanda. I think we met a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Oh, right. You're our new landscape painter. What can I help you with?”

  “I'll be at the fair with Susan for part of the weekend. Should I take my note cards and prints to the fair Saturday, or do you need to organize them here?”

  “You can take them Saturday. As long as everything is packaged with your name and the item's price, we can keep tabs on our sales.”

  “OK, thanks.” I left Carrie arranging prints by size in boxes and went back into the gallery, where I swapped the painting I'd brought for another of the same size on my wall.

  “Lovely painting, Amanda.”

  I jumped. With the crepe-soled shoes she wore, Judith hadn't made a sound when she'd come up behind me.

  “I didn't mean to startle you,” she continued without waiting for a response. “The gallery's quiet this morning, but I expect we'll have a good weekend.”

  Grabbing my opportunity, I agreed that it was quiet. It seemed like the perfect time to invite Judith for coffee.

  “Would you like to join me for coffee, Judith? I'm just going next door to the Coffee Klatsch. We can bring something back for Ralph and Carrie.”

  “No, thanks, Amanda. I've already had my fill of coffee this morning, but I'm sure Ralph and Carrie would appreciate it.”

  Desperately, I tried to think of a way to change her mind, but I wasn't that quick on my feet. I drew a blank.

  As Judith turned and began to walk away, I called, “Janice!”

  Without hesitation, she turned, “Yes?” It took a few seconds for her to realize she'd answered to her own name, rather than Judith's. Then she tried to make light of her gaff, but I didn't buy it for a minute.

  Janice stood there, looking at me. “Judith” had been Janice all along!

  Chapter 25

  We stared at each other, neither of us breaking eye contact until a commotion at the front of the gallery distracted us. When Janice went to investigate, I quickly pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and tapped it to call Rebecca.

  “Rebecca, you'd better come over to the gallery right away,” I told her. “Janice just gave herself away, although she won't admit it. If she sees you, maybe we'll get somewhere.”

  “I'll be right there.”

  I slipped my phone back into my pocket and went to the front. With one of us behind her and the other in front of her, Janice wouldn't be able to worm her way out of the situation too easily when Rebecca arrived. I could hear Janice's raised voice coming from the front of the gallery. As soon as I went around the wall that divided the gallery, I saw the source of the problem.

  Brooks Miller had blustered his way in, and now he and Janice were engaged in a heated argument while Ralph watched them from behind the counter, his hand on the telephone.

  “This is another one of your ploys to get me to raise my offer again,” Brooks said angrily. “You're not going to get a better price. I'm offering twice what this building's worth, and you know it.”

  “Maybe I don't want to sell.”

  “You stupid woman,” Brooks yelled in frustration. “You'll sell this building to me or you'll regret it.”

  “That sounds like a threat, Miller. Get out! Now!” Ralph said.

  “I'm not going anywhere. Not till she comes to her senses and signs the contract my agent presented.”

  “Mr. Miller,” Ralph said. “You heard the lady. You're not welcome here. Now you have two seconds to get to the front door before I call the police. I have 9-1-1 on speed dial.” Ralph picked up the receiver and curled his gnarled index finger above the push button on the landline's old-fashioned phone. When Brooks didn't budge, Ralph jabbed the button.

  Brooks, his face contorted with rage, strode toward the front entrance just as Rebecca opened the door to come in.

  “I wouldn't sell this building to you if you were the last man on earth,” Janice yelled.

  Brooks pushed past Rebecca and left the gallery. We could hear the siren of a police car close by, but by the time Mike, the young patrol officer, arrived, Brooks had vanished. At some point, Carrie had joined us, although, in the excitement, I hadn't noticed her at first. Janice cast a wary eye at Rebecca as Ralph explained to Mike why he'd made the 9-1-1 call.

  “I didn't know what he was going to do, Officer Dyson,” Ralph said. “He threated Judith, so I asked him to leave. When he refused, I made the call.”

  I noticed that Janice let Ralph do the talking. She'd looked startled when she first saw Mike, even though she knew Ralph had called the police.

  “Ms. Warren, do you have anything to add?” He asked the question while staring down at the small notebook he held in his hand. He never looked directly at Janice.

  “No,” she said quietly.

  “Anybody else have something to add?”

  Nobody responded.

  “And you're sure it was Brooks Miller, the guy from the Lonesome Valley Resort?”

  “And the Brooks Miller Gallery,” I added. “It was him all right. No doubt about it.”

  “OK, got it. Thanks, Amanda.” Mike flashed me a brief smile. “I'll report this incident right away, but it'll probably be the detective who investigates, given what happened here last week. That's about all I can tell you. I suppose he could be charged with trespass or disturbing the peace, but it'll be up to the district attorney.”

  “He won't be charged with a thing if I don't miss my guess,” Ralph grumbled. “The district attorney likes to keep the powers that be happy.”

  “Well, I don't know about that,” Mike responded. “But it's not my call.”

  “Understood, Officer. We appreciate the fast response.”

  After noting all our names and contact information, Mike left. The flashing lights of the police car sitting outside the gallery had attracted some attention, and a small crowd had gathered outside, but as soon as Mike left, the curiosity seekers went their separate ways. A few came into the gallery, probably more to find out what had happened than to look at the art. Ralph, Carrie, and Janice approached the visitors while I hung back with Rebecca so that we'd have a chance to confer.

  “What do you think?” I asked. “Is she Janice?”

  “No doubt about it,” Rebecca answered.

  “How sure are you?”

  “One hundred percent. She's definitely Janice. I was afraid that maybe after all these years, I wouldn't be able to tell Janice and Judith apart, but I was wrong.” Tears flooded Rebecca's eyes as she said, “Judith's gone. My friend is dead.”

  The woman who'd been talking to Janice left. When Janice looked at us, she saw Rebecca crying. I wondered whether she'd deny impersonating Judith to her twin's oldest friend.

  “Let's go upstairs to my apartment, ladies,” she said wearily. We followed her as she trudged up the stairs. Janice unlocked her apartment door, and we went inside, through a narrow entry way that opened onto her spacious living room.

  The plush sofa, ottoman, and chairs looked comfortable, but it was the life-size bronze of a mountain lion perched on a ledge that jutted out from one wall that dominated the room. The big cat's languid pose belied its predatory expression. Although it was lying down with its tail draped over the ledge where it rested, its head was raised as it surveyed its domain.

  The display had a museum-like quality because the entire wall behind the mountain lion was a mural of a realistic Arizona mountain habitat, yet the background painting didn't overwhelm its focal point, the bronze cougar. I moved closer to the wall to look at the details of the painter's work. I almost missed seeing the signature because I hadn't been looking at the bottom of the painting, but the artist had signed his work. His name stood out, rendered in bold confident strokes: Travis Baxter.

 
It was then that I realized I'd never seen any of Chip's artwork before. Although he was a member of the Roadrunner's board, none of his paintings hung in the gallery.

  As though reading my mind, Janice offered an explanation.

  “Travis is a talented artist, but he's having a difficult time finding the right direction for his art. I believe he should concentrate on murals, and I've tried to guide him, but his work ethic isn't what it should be if he wants to find success in this business. If he'd settle down and concentrate, he'd do much better, but he's too easily distracted.”

  “We're not here to talk about art,” Rebecca snapped. “Why are you impersonating Judith? Did you kill your sister?”

  “Of course not.” Janice looked horrified. “I'm trying to find out who did. Whoever it was wanted me dead, not Judith.”

  “How do you know that?” Rebecca asked.

  “Oh, come on, Rebecca. Who was always the popular twin? Everyone loved Judith. Amanda can tell you how much the members of the Roadrunner miss me—they don't. Besides, I doubt that anyone knew she was in Lonesome Valley. I certainly wasn't expecting her.”

  “But I don't understand how you hope to find her killer by pretending to be Judith. That doesn't make sense,” I said. “Why not let the police handle the investigation? That's their job.”

  “And they're doing such a splendid one,” Janice said sarcastically. “Look who they arrested. Susan's a wimp. She'd be too scared to hurt anyone, even if she wanted to.”

  “She once threatened to kill you,” I reminded her.

  “I didn't take that threat seriously. Anyway, it was two years ago. We haven't had any major disagreements in quite a while. No, it isn't Susan, but I have an idea who it might be.”

  “Then if you have evidence, take it to the police,” I urged. “Let them sort it out.”

  “That's the thing. I have suspicions, not hard evidence.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, take Brooks Miller, for example. He'd like nothing better than to move his gallery into the Roadrunner. We have a prime Main Street location that can't be beat. He's been trying for years to convince me to sell, but I always refuse. Maybe he thought that, with me out of the way, he'd have an easier time negotiating a deal.”

  “But now, as Judith, you're still not agreeing to sell.”

  “I'm toying with him. I wanted to see how he'd react. I told his real estate agent that I was inclined to sell, and you saw how Brooks reacted a few minutes ago when I told him that maybe I didn't want to. He went ballistic. The man has a temper. If you ask me, he's capable of commiting murder. I'm going to see how far I can push him. If he comes after me, I'll know he's the murderer.”

  “Deliberately putting yourself in danger is a terrible plan, Janice,” I protested.

  “I'm armed, remember?”

  “You're not honoring Judith's memory by playing your preposterous game when you should be planning Judith's funeral, instead,” Rebecca told her.

  “I fully intend to hold a memorial service for Judith, but not until I find her killer.”

  “You always were the stubborn one, Janice.”

  While Rebecca and Janice argued, I thought about what Janice had said earlier.

  “Janice, would a man like Brooks Miller really go to such lengths as murder in hopes of buying this building? I don't know that your theory holds up. He obviously has plenty of money. It's not as though his livelihood's in jeopardy.”

  “Brooks has a huge ego, and he's dead set on moving into the Roadrunner's space. His money didn't help him get what he wanted, so he took another path.”

  “I suppose it's possible,” I said dubiously, “but not very likely.”

  “Well, someone killed my sister,” Janice snapped. “Brooks isn't the only person with a motive.”

  “Oh?”

  “I think he's the most likely suspect, but there's someone else.”

  “Who?”

  “You were at the members' meeting at the library, Amanda. Ask yourself this: who wanted to be gallery director?”

  “Pamela. You think she murdered Judith?” I was flabbergasted. “You're saying Pamela killed Judith, thinking she was you, because she wants to be gallery director?”

  “That's one motive. The other is her jealousy of me.”

  “Because you're the gallery director?”

  “Because Travis loves me.”

  I thought Rebecca was going to fall out of her chair at that statement. Janice flashed a smug look at Rebecca.

  “You thought a man could never be attracted to me, didn't you? High school was forty years ago, Rebecca. Time to get over it.”

  “Pamela said she'd heard rumors,” I mused. “So you and Chip were having an affair while he was dating Pamela.”

  “No. That's not what I said. Travis loves me, but we're not lovers. I'm not foolish enough to get involved with him romantically, no matter how many times he suggests it. No, our relationship is much stronger than that. I mentor him; we can talk about anything. I consider him my protégé, but I doubt that Pamela could understand.”

  “She's such a petite woman. I can't picture her being strong enough to murder anybody,” I said, “even if she was terribly jealous and meant to do harm.”

  Janice shrugged. “She probably didn't. All I'm saying is she's a suspect. I think it's far more likely that Brooks is the killer.”

  “You may be right, but it's time to end the playacting and go to the police,” I insisted.

  “I agree.” Rebecca backed me up. “Tell them what you know, and let them investigate.”

  “I will, but I need a little more time.”

  “How much time?” Rebecca asked.

  “A couple of days, and then I'll tell Belmont. I promise. Please don't give me away in the meantime.”

  “Well, all right,” Rebecca agreed. “I suppose it can wait a day or two.”

  Janice looked relieved. “Amanda, do you agree?”

  “Sorry, Janice. I can't go along. The police should be notified immediately. You're obstructing their investigation. They don't even know who the murder victim is.”

  “I don't see that a couple of days can make much difference.”

  “That's not your call. If you don't report your impersonation to Lieutenant Belmont, I will.”

  Chapter 26

  I seethed as I walked out of the police station a couple hours later. Lieutenant Belmont had accused me of grand-standing and poking my nose in where it didn't belong. Worse yet, he hadn't believed a word of my story. He'd laughed in my face before telling me to leave the investigation to the professionals and showing me the door.

  Rebecca hadn't come with me. She'd insisted that she should keep her promise to Janice, but I suspected she hadn't wanted to involve herself on an official level, although she'd been willing enough to confirm Janice's identity. I imagined she hadn't wanted to upset Greg, either. She hadn't told him what we planned to do. Given his hyper-concern that a murder had happened in Lonesome Valley, he likely wouldn't have appreciated his wife's involvement in looking into the circumstances.

  I didn't blame Rebecca for her reluctance to involve herself more than she already had. In fact, I felt a bit guilty for getting her into it in the first place.

  Walking away from the police station, I rounded the corner and sat on the same bench where Susan and I had commiserated right after Lieutenant Belmont had interviewed us the first time. Rebecca had dropped me off at the station, and I'd told her not to wait for me.

  Remembering the long uphill walk home, I decided to call for a ride. I felt tired and frustrated. I'd left Laddie and Mona Lisa alone longer than I'd anticipated. I waited impatiently although my Uber ride showed up in less than five minutes. At this point, all I wanted to do was to go home.

  Rushing to greet me at the door, my furry companions presented themselves as soon as I entered the house. Mona Lisa wrapped herself around my feet, making it difficult to navigate, while Laddie pressed himself against my legs and basked in my atte
ntion when I leaned down to pet him.

  I inched my way into the kitchen, both pets at my heels, and tempted Mona Lisa with a kitty treat and Laddie with a chewy, which gave me a short reprieve, long enough to make a sandwich. As soon as Mona Lisa finished her treat, she leapt to the top of her perch and curled up for a cat nap.

  Taking Laddie with me, I picked up my sandwich and a glass of iced tea and went outside to eat my lunch on the patio while Laddie wandered around the backyard, stopping occasionally to roll in the grass.

  When I finished my sandwich, I called him to come so that I could brush him. His long golden coat needed to be groomed, and I felt guilty that I'd neglected this chore for the past couple of days. Laddie cooperated nicely, standing still, as I directed while I ran the wire brush through his thick fur and told him what a handsome boy he was. His tail wagged constantly, so I had to hold it still to brush it, too.

  When I finished, I rewarded his patience by playing fetch with him. Finally, I called a halt. He hadn't tired of the game, but I couldn't say the same, and I needed to get some work done.

  Mona Lisa didn't look up when we came in. She was still asleep. We left her to her nap and went into the studio where Laddie flopped down on the floor, panting. His grooming wasn't the only thing I'd neglected this week. I hadn't done much painting. It was time to get to work.

  Although I had a good number of finished paintings, I knew working steadily, rather than sporadically, made for a better habit. Despite my procrastination gene, I'd managed to create a decent size body of work.

  For what seemed like the thousandth time, I resolved to paint every day, but even as I made my resolution, I knew I wouldn't keep it. I thought about the arts and crafts fair scheduled for the weekend, and I doubted that I would get to the studio to paint Saturday, since I'd be at the fair all day.

  After our startling discovery that Janice was pretending to be her sister Judith and my unsuccessful visit to the police station, I'd texted Belle to call me when she had a chance. By late afternoon, she still hadn't called back, and I began to worry.

  After I put my paints in the freezer and cleaned my brushes, I walked outside since I couldn't see Belle's carport from the house. Her car was parked in its usual spot, so I rang her doorbell, but there was no answer. If Mr. Big had been home, he would have started barking as soon as he heard the doorbell chime, but everything was quiet. Although it was somewhat odd, I wasn't really too alarmed, but, just to be on the safe side, I called Dennis at the feed store.