Artistic License to Kill

by Paula Darnell

  I couldn't share my suspicions with Lieutenant Belmont. He hadn't believed me when I'd told him who the real murder victim was, but I felt I should tell somebody—somebody who could act on the information. I'd have to wait until the chief of police contacted me to tell my story. I only hoped he wouldn't react the same way Lieutenant Belmont had with his don't-be-silly sneer.

  Back at the Roadrunner's booth, a few browsers were looking over our paintings, but they soon moved on, and Susan took the opportunity to look around the fair for herself, leaving Chip and me in charge. When she'd asked me to help, she'd told me that Chip and Lonnie would set up our tent, grids, and table in the morning, but she hadn't told me Chip planned to spend the day. Without Susan as a buffer between us, this could be awkward.

  “Why don't you sit down for a while, Amanda? You look tired.” Chip repositioned a plastic lawn chair behind the table, pulling it back so that it didn't look as though I were the cashier.

  “All right,” I said, happy to be off my feet for a while. I'd been standing all day, and my lack of sleep the previous night wasn't helping my alertness.

  “Even though you look tired, you still look cute.”

  “Oh, please,” I groaned. “Don't you ever give up, Chip?”

  “I mean it, Amanda. You're a very attractive woman.”

  I wasn't in the mood to engage in repartee with him, but I was saved by the bell when his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked at the display, and walked away from our tent, out of earshot. Pamela was probably calling him, I guessed, and he didn't want me to hear their conversation.

  After about ten minutes, Chip returned to the booth.

  “That was Pamela,” he said, “and she has bad news.”

  “Is she all right?” She'd had to leave the gallery in a hurry when her housekeeper called her to tell her about a flooding problem at her house, and I hadn't seen or heard from her since.

  “She's fine, but we're going to have to do something about Judith.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She's in big trouble. Evidently, she was selling forged art in her Texican Gallery, and not just a few pieces, either. Supposedly, she actually hired some artists to create the forgeries, but the new owners found out, and now they're suing her for fraud. It's not only civil charges, but criminal that she'll have to deal with. Pamela told me that a warrant was issued for her arrest in Texas yesterday. Most likely, the local cops will be asked to pick her up, and she'll be extradited back to Texas unless she turns herself in first. There goes our gallery director and maybe our only chance to keep our rent-free space for the Roadrunner. She'll probably have to sell the building to pay for her legal fees.”

  So Brooks had been right, I thought.

  “I wouldn't be too sure about that,” I said. This bit of news would finally elicit the truth from Janice about her impersonation of Judith. She might be in some hot water for withholding evidence, but that paled in comparison to the trouble she'd be in otherwise. If she kept trying to pass herself off as Judith, she could easily end up in prison, and Judith's fortune was bound to be depleted if the new owners of her former art gallery prevailed in their lawsuit against her or her estate, when they learned she had died.

  Chip looked confused. “You mean you think she's innocent?”

  “No. I don't know whether she is or not. All I'm saying is that it's best to take a wait-and-see attitude. Let things play out and take it from there.”

  “You just said a lot without saying anything. Do you know something you're not telling me?” He looked at me closely. “You do.”

  I never did have a poker face.

  “What is it, Amanda?”

  “I can't tell you yet, but suffice it to say that things should sort themselves out in the next few days.”

  “You're being very mysterious.”

  “Let's wait to see what happens. That's really all we can do, anyway.”

  “Pamela wants to have a board meeting tomorrow afternoon to explore our options.”

  “I guess it couldn't hurt.” By the time they held the board meeting, Janice's deception could well have been exposed.

  Chip's phone rang again. He took the call right away, not bothering to step outside the tent.

  “OK, Dad. I'll be there in ten minutes,” he said a few seconds after answering. “I have to go in to work right away,” he told me. “One of our drivers is having car trouble, so I need to cover for him. Are you OK here alone?”

  “No problem. You go ahead. Susan will be back soon, anyway.”

  Chip rushed off, and, as luck would have it, a crowd gathered in our booth as soon as he disappeared. I was busy processing a sale for one of Ralph's paintings when Susan came back and pitched in.

  “That's as busy as we've been all day,” I said as soon as the rush ended.

  “We've taken in quite a bit of money,” Susan said. “Even though most of our customers charged their purchases, the man who bought Ralph's painting paid cash, and it was the most expensive item we had on display. We have over seven hundred dollars here, and I don't feel comfortable taking that much money home.”

  “Would you like me to drop it off at the gallery before closing? They can include it in the night deposit.”

  “If you don't mind, that would be great, but you'd better get going. The gallery will be closing soon.”

  We quickly assembled our copies of the day's receipts and the cash we'd accumulated. I was a bit nervous about carrying that much money around, but I knew some people routinely carried hundreds of dollars in cash in their wallets. Ned was one of them. He'd done it for years without problems.

  “I'll close up here,” Susan said. “The organizers of the fair hired security guards to patrol tonight, so we're going to leave everything in place. Thanks so much for filling in, Amanda. I know it was a long day for you, especially after the prowler incident at your house last night. We're covered for tomorrow, so get some rest.”

  “It was a fun day, but I plan on it.”

  I tucked our cash envelope and folder with our receipts into my handbag and scurried off with a wave to Susan. I couldn't wait to get home to relax and hang out with my pets, but I'd volunteered to drop off our proceeds from today's sales because the gallery was on my way home, but not on Susan's. As I walked to the parking lot, I pulled my phone out of my pocket to call Belle, but it rang before I had the chance to make my call.

  “Amanda, it's Susan. Pamela just called me, and a few of the gallery members want to get together a little later, after the fair closes. Evidently, there's some problem with Judith that Pamela wants to talk about before the board meeting tomorrow, but she wouldn't give me any details. We're going to meet at Pamela's studio. Can you come?”

  “I don't know, Susan,” I said wearily. “I'm awfully tired, but I'll try to make it. I can't promise, though.”

  As soon as Susan rang off, I called Belle. At the same time, a text from Pamela showed up on my phone, inviting me to come to her studio for a buffet dinner and informal get-together, but I didn't answer right away. I wanted to talk to Belle first.

  “Hi, Amanda, how was the fair?” Belle asked.

  “Fun, but I'm tired. How are Laddie and Mona Lisa doing?”

  “Just fine. Laddie's happy to play with Mr. Big, and Mona Lisa came down from her perch when I went over to your house to check on her. She played with her toy mouse for a while, and she ate the kitty treats I gave her.”

  “I've been invited to Pamela's for dinner. I think it's really more of a meeting about the gallery, but I'm not sure I should go. I don't want to put you out. You and Dennis probably have plans for the evening.”

  “We do. Here's our plan: stay home and fire up the barbecue. Don't worry about Laddie or Mona Lisa. I can give them dinner. Relax and stay as long as you like.”

  “Thanks, Belle. I'm still not sure I'm up to it. I'm just so tired. I don't know. I can't decide.”

  “Either way, we'll be right here, so take your time.”


  I was still undecided when I said good-bye to my obliging friend. I answered Pamela's text, telling her I wasn't sure about coming, but I'd be there if I perked up a bit.

  I arrived at the gallery a few minutes before closing time. Ralph was behind the counter, and Janice was talking with a small group of tourists.

  “Ralph, you'll be happy to know that one of your paintings sold at the fair,” I said. “In fact, it was the only original artwork we sold all day.”

  “Which one was it?”

  “Your smaller picture of the mountains in moonlight.”

  “Great! I'll bring another one around in the morning to replace it, but you didn't need to come by to tell me about it.”

  “Actually Susan wanted us to include our cash sales with the gallery's night deposit. I brought the cash, and here are the sales receipts.” I placed them next to the cash register and counted the cash into stacks of hundreds while Ralph watched.

  “Sure. We can do that. I'll start the reconciliation, and then Judith can verify my count before I take it to the bank.”

  “In the meantime, would you mind if I print a few inventory sheets here? I'm planning on changing my wall display here tomorrow, but my printer's out of ink.”

  “Sure. Help yourself,” he said motioning toward the computer. “There's some kind of a problem with this printer here, so select the remote printer, and it'll send your documents to the printer in Judith's office. You can pick them up there. Looks like she's still tied up with those tourists, so use the spare key. He produced a small key with a shoelace attached to it from beneath the counter and handed it to me.

  “OK, thanks, Ralph,” I said, wrapping the shoelace around my wrist before clicking the form on the gallery's website. After I hit the remote print button, I went down the hallway to the office to retrieve my inventory sheets.

  I unlocked the office and plucked the papers from the printer. When I glanced at them, I could see that the top sheet wasn't one of mine. I took a closer look.

  It was a boarding pass in the name of Judith Warren—a boarding pass for a flight from Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix to São Paulo, Brazil, via Mexico City and Santiago, Chile. The flight's departure time was only a few hours away.

  Janice was getting ready to fly the coop!

  Chapter 32

  My first thought was that, like Pamela, Janice had heard that a warrant had been issued for Judith's arrest, and she'd decided to continue her impersonation despite it, so she was fleeing to Brazil where there was no extradition treaty with the United States.

  But that didn't make any sense.

  Why play the part of her sister when it meant leaving the country to escape prosecution?

  Then it hit me.

  Janice was going to Brazil to avoid the law, so that she wouldn't be charged.

  Janice had killed her own twin!

  I was sure of it.

  Only a few hours earlier, I'd felt certain that Mike was the culprit. Now, I knew better, but I didn't have time to dwell on the guilt I felt about suspecting an innocent man.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  I'd left the door to the office open. When I turned, Janice was standing in the doorway, and she didn't look happy.

  “Just printing some inventory sheets. Ralph told me that the printer up front was jammed, so he said I should use this one.” Like a naughty schoolchild caught doing something wrong by the principal, I felt obliged to justify my actions.

  “I see,” Janice said, grabbing the papers out of my hand as she strode to her desk. It happened so fast I didn't have time to protest. She glanced down and saw the boarding pass immediately.

  “So you know.”

  “Know what?” I said, although it was difficult to feign ignorance at this point.

  “You know I'm leaving for Brazil tonight.”

  “I think there's a little more to it than that.”

  From the way Janice's face contorted with anger, I knew I'd made a mistake as soon as those words were out of my mouth.

  “Ralph!” I yelled as loudly as I could.

  “Ralph's left for the day, so you may as well save your breath,” Janice said. “We're all alone.”

  She pulled out the top drawer of her desk and whipped out her gun, pointing it straight at me.

  Feeling light-headed, I wobbled a bit and had to steady myself by bracing my hands on Janice's desktop to keep from falling over.

  “Sit down, Amanda,” she commanded, motioning to a sturdy wooden chair with wide arms next to the side of her desk. “You're becoming a real nuisance.”

  “You're not going to—?” My words hung in the air.

  “Shoot you?” Janice finished my thought. “Only if you make me. If you cooperate, you'll spend an uncomfortable night, but Valerie will find you when she opens the gallery in the morning, so you might as well save your breath. Do we understand each other?”

  Despite my fear, her I'm-the-principal tone irritated me. I didn't answer.

  “I said 'do we understand each other.'” She raised her voice this time.

  “No, as a matter of fact, I don't understand you at all, Janice. You had a perfectly nice life here and a good position as gallery director. You're a top-notch sculptor. Why would you throw all that away?”

  “I didn't mean to do it. Judith always could get under my skin. This is her boarding pass, you know,” she said, waving it in the air. “She showed up, saying she wanted to reconcile and spend some time with me, but it was all about getting her ducks in a row before she left for South America. We got into one of our shouting matches, and she turned her back on me. I know she did it deliberately. I never could stand that. I told her to turn around and face me, but she just kept on walking.”

  “So that's when you clobbered her with your bronze bear,” I guessed.

  “My bear? Of course not! I'd never do anything to damage one of my own sculptures. I threw my gun at her. I was trying to make a point. I wasn't trying to hit her, but my aim was off. I put the bear on the floor as a distraction to throw the police off. I figured it would take a while for the cops to discover it wasn't the murder weapon.”

  “But why impersonate Judith?”

  “Because she was in a lot of trouble, and it was all going to come out soon. Nobody would wonder why she fled to Brazil. All I had to do was keep up the charade until it was time to leave, but you and Judith's snoopy friend had to stick your noses in where they don't belong.”

  “That's why you wanted to stall when I asked you to go to the police to tell them Judith was the victim, not you.”

  “By the way, thank you for not reporting my impersonation. I was sure you were going to.”

  “I did report it.”

  “I don't believe you. The cops would have picked me up by now.”

  I shrugged. “It could happen any time.” I wasn't about to tell her that Lieutenant Belmont hadn't believed me, and was, in fact, not planning on questioning her.

  Then something else occurred to me.

  “Did you try to break into my house last night?”

  “I don't know what you're talking about.” She truly seemed at a loss.

  “Put your arms on the arms of the chair,” she directed as she pulled the shoelace with the key to the office dangling from it off my wrist. I had no choice but to comply; she still had the gun trained on me.

  After I moved my arms, she rummaged around in her desk with her left hand. She pulled out a ball of twine and pulled the end of the cord. Holding it in her teeth and keeping the ball of twine in her left hand and the gun pointed at me, she managed to wrap twine around my right wrist several times until I couldn't wiggle it. She repeated the same maneuver with my left wrist.

  Then she placed the gun on the desktop, several feet away, although I couldn't have reached it anyway. She proceeded to tie a series of intricate knots in the twine, first on my right wrist, then on my left. I struggled to pull free, but she kept tightening the knots.

  “Ouch!” I cried.
“You're cutting off my circulation.”

  “You'll be fine,” she said, without sympathy, “and so will I. I'm setting up a new studio in São Paulo, now that the last of Judith's assets have been transferred to her bank account there. I'll miss the Roadrunner, but I'm guessing its members won't miss me. I'll practice my Portuguese on the flight there. Tchau.”

  Chapter 33

  With that, she yanked the landline cord from the wall and smashed the phone on the floor. Then she grabbed her gun, along with her boarding pass, and flipped off the light switch before closing the office door firmly. I heard the key twisting in the lock, followed by a scraping noise. I was sure she'd propped a chair under the door handle to make it harder for me, should I try to escape.

  In the small, windowless room, I felt like I was in a prison cell. The darkness only added to my panic, which I was trying to check by telling myself that, even if I had to wait until the gallery opened in the morning, I'd survive. Somehow, that thought did little to calm me, though.

  At least there was something I could do about the darkness. I stood at best I could, or rather leaned over with a heavy wooden chair on my back, and staggered toward the door. The sturdy chair didn't make the task easy. I knew the light switch was right next to the door, and when I got that far, I sat back in the chair, slipped off my right sandal, raised my leg, and tapped around on the door with my toe until I felt the light switch and pushed it up. Now that I could see what I was doing, I felt determined to try my best to escape.

  If only I had my cell phone with me, I might be able to make an emergency call by poking it with my toe or maybe my nose, since I had 9-1-1 on speed dial, but I'd put it in my purse after I'd counted out the cash for the gallery's night deposit and given Ralph the receipts from the fair. Intending to be gone only a minute to pick up my inventory sheets, I'd left my purse beneath the counter next to the cash register.