by Mary Stone
Creative? Hmmm. Creative was her middle name. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that you should go right now and talk to Mrs. Jennings. Tell her that you’re attempting to interview the people on the list, but you’re worried they aren’t answering because they’re suspicious as to why you called. Then ask her if she could make the introductions. Tell people you’re an…I don’t know…auditor or something. That way, they’ll be more forthcoming with information for you.”
Kylie blinked at her boss in awe. “Greg, that’s brilliant. Did anyone tell you you’re brilliant?”
“Yep. Every day.” She grabbed her coat and purse, clipped on Vader’s leash, and practically skipped over to Greg. She was about to give him a big hug from behind when he held up a finger. “Uh-uh. Cooties.”
“Ha ha.” She kissed the balding top of his head. “I’ll be back!”
“Go get ‘em, short stuff,” he muttered after her.
She was still excited as she rang the ornate bell of Emma Jennings’s mansion. It wasn’t Emma who greeted her this time. It was the butler.
“Hello, Mr. Sloane.”
The man inclined his head but still managed to look down his nose at her. “Miss Hatfield. Did I miss an appointment on the calendar?”
It was the politest rebuke she’d ever heard. She blushed. “No. I’m sorry for dropping by unexpectedly. I was hoping—”
“Kylie, dear.”
Kylie blew out a relieved breath as Emma appeared at the top of a sweeping marble staircase. “Come in, come in.”
Face carefully blank, Sloane opened the door farther, and Kylie stepped through, then waited patiently at the bottom of the steps for Emma to make her way down. By the time she was at the bottom, she looked exhausted…and sad. Lifting her hand to her lips, Emma kissed her palm and then the bottom banister.
It hit her. Kylie had read that the late Mr. Jennings had fallen down a set of steps. She shivered. That very set of steps?
Emma sighed and a smile brightened her face. “I’m happy to see you. Do you have any information?”
Since the elderly woman seemed a bit out of breath, Kylie offered her an arm. “How about we sit, and I’ll give you an update?”
Emma linked arms with hers, and after instructing Sloane to bring them tea, they slowly walked to the parlor. The pace worried Kylie. Emma seemed much more frail today than when she’d last seen her. She wanted to ask her about her doctor’s appointment but wasn’t sure if she should.
When they were seated, Kylie confessed. “I don’t have much of an update, actually. I’ve been running into issues getting the people on your list to respond to me. But I wanted to run something by you that I think could help.”
Emma looked troubled by the news. “Oh?”
“I think it may help if I pose as your new assistant, hunting down this information for a tax audit so that they don’t question my inquiries or resist answering. Do you think that would be okay?”
The elderly lady brightened. “Yes, I see. Of course. I think that makes perfect sense. I had to let my assistant go a couple months ago.”
Kylie frowned. “You had an assistant? Is his name on the list?”
Emma tapped her bottom lip, clearly thinking. “Her, dear. Denise is a her, and I can’t quite remember if I thought to write it down.”
Biting back an exhale, Kylie opened her notepad. “What’s Denise’s last name?”
“Summers. Denise Summers.”
“And how long did Denise work for you?”
The lip tapping continued. “For years, dear. Absolute years. At least two before my Arnold passed.”
Kylie wrote down seven.
“And why did she leave?”
Emma sighed. “Because of Nate.”
Kylie’s ears perked up. “Your grandson? What happened?”
Emma lowered her voice. “Nate was a cheat.”
Kylie shook her head, trying to make the dots align. “What?”
“On Denise, dear. Nate cheated on Denise.”
“So, your grandson and your assistant were in a relationship?”
“Yes. That’s what I just told you.”
Kylie refrained from running her hand down her face. “I understand now. Were they dating before you hired her?”
“Oh no. Denise was in her late thirties, dear. Quite the cougar, if you get my drift.”
Kylie did, indeed.
“How did you feel about them dating?”
Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m no prude, as you know, but I didn’t approve of the relationship in the least.”
“Because of the age difference?
The older woman’s hand waved in a pish-posh manner that made Kylie smile. “Love is love, dear…unless it’s not.”
Kylie wanted to thunk her head against a wall. “Can you explain that to me please?”
“Well, my Nate was heads over heels in love with Denise, but I could see from a hundred miles away that she was just using the dear boy…” she leaned forward conspiratorially, “for sex.”
Kylie cringed. Grandmas just didn’t need to know such things.
“How long did they date?”
“I learned of their affair in a most unexpected way this summer.”
Kylie was afraid to ask.
She didn’t need to. “Walked in on them making love on my Arnold’s favorite stool. I was livid.”
Kylie’s stomach churned a bit. “I’m sure.”
Emma’s cheeks turned a bright pink as she glowered at the memory. “No one had even sat on that stool since Arnold’s passing, and there her fat ass cheeks were smearing all about.”
Kylie slapped a hand over her eyes, trying to unsee the image that flashed through her mind. “Oh no. That’s simply terrible. In every way possible.”
“Indeed. It. Was. And that tramp was screwing my grandson on company time, to add insult to injury.”
“So, you fired her?”
“On the spot.” Emma glowered, and Kylie could glimpse the formidable woman she once was. “And had that stool disinfected every day for a week.”
Kylie looked at her notes. “But you said Nate was a cheat. If he was so in love with Denise, why cheat?”
Emma nodded, her brow still furrowed in anger. “He was in love with her, but rumor has it that he was also in a relationship with his ex-roommate, a boy he knew from college.”
Kylie blinked. “So, Nate is bi-sexual?”
Another pish-posh wave of the hand. “Love is love, dear.”
“Unless it’s not,” Kylie concluded and got a beaming smile from the elderly woman.
“Yes, indeed.”
“Do you recall the ex-roommate’s name?”
The furrow returned, and Emma stared at Kylie’s chin in deep concentration. “Derrick? David? I’m quite certain it starts with a D, but those don’t sound quite right.” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “Oh, this memory.”
Kylie laid a hand on the woman’s arm, about to tell her to not worry herself when Sloane arrived with the familiar silver service tray, which he placed on the coffee table. After he left, Kylie said, “Do you mind if I interview some of the employees right now?”
“Not at all.” Emma was busy pouring creamer and scooping sugar. Kylie was impressed that the octogenarian remembered that she liked hers extra sweet and milky. “Of course, Sloane is the only one available at the moment. I’m sure he’ll tell you everything you want to know. He knows all and sees all. Very reliable and trustworthy. He’s been in my family for almost sixty years, can you believe that? Was my mother’s butler before mine.”
“I’m sure he’ll be helpful,” Kylie said as she sipped her tea, which tasted so much better than when she tried making it at home. She drank it hurriedly, excited to finally make some tracks on this case.
They chatted a little more, and then Emma led her to the servants’ quarters in another wing of the house. There, she found Sloane relaxing with the paper while finishing his lunch. He looked appalled to have
someone enter his domain, especially while he wasn’t in full uniform, but he set aside his paper and moved some books on the chair across from him to the floor to let Kylie sit.
As she sat down, she peeked around. It looked like an old widower’s home, dark and dreary and sparse, and smelled vaguely of Bengay.
“I’m sorry to bother you right now, Mr. Sloane.” Kylie motioned toward his mostly empty plate. “Please finish your lunch, and after that, I have a few questions to ask on behalf of Mrs. Jennings if that’s all right.”
“I’m quite finished,” he said in a gravelly voice, scanning her carefully as he pushed a pair of glasses up onto his nose. “May I ask why a friend would need to ask me questions?”
Confused for a moment, Kylie thought back to her first visit to the house. Emma had indeed introduced her as a friend.
“Mrs. Emma has asked me to be her assistant.” When Sloane only raised an eyebrow, she went on, “As I’m sure you know, she has a great deal of paperwork to handle on a weekly basis, and she’s worried that her mind isn’t as sharp as it once was, so she hired me to keep track of things.” Kylie pulled her notepad from her purse. “In order to help her best, I thought it vital that I understand the inventory, and I’m specifically interested in the three paintings that appear to be missing from the gallery. You said they were sent out to be reframed a few months ago?”
He nodded. “Yes. A place downtown. The name escapes me. Her grandson called to tell me that they were to be picked up and delivered there for new frames and cleaning.”
That sounded all sorts of suspicious. “Her grandson? You mean, Nate?”
He nodded, keeping his neck stiff. “He was always doing things for his grandmother. Very handy boy. Haven’t seen him around here much in the past few months. Not since the…incident.”
He sniffed, and Kylie felt sure she knew of which incident he was speaking. She needed to be certain, though.
“The stool incident?”
Sloane sniffed again, looking thoroughly disgusted. “Indeed.”
Kylie nodded. “Before the stool incident, would you have assessed Nate as someone who was trustworthy?”
Sloane held the last of an egg salad sandwich in his hand and was about to take a bite, but he stopped. “I would like to believe so. He’s Emma’s grandson. I’ve known him all his life. My daughter was Nate’s nanny after Nate’s parents passed away. So, he was raised right, I tell you.” He glowered. “Until he was led astray.”
Kylie bit her tongue. “Of course.”
He popped a bite of the sandwich into his mouth and started to chew, his dentures clicking together in a way that made Kylie pledge to increase her flossing schedule dramatically. “Artful Frames. Downtown. That was the place. Mr. Jennings always used their services.”
“Ah.” She scribbled the name down. It sounded legit, she guessed. “Did Emma specifically tell you she wanted the portraits reframed?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I thought we went over that.”
“You said Nate called and told you they were going to be taken away and reframed. But did you ever hear Emma say herself that she wanted them reframed?”
His brow knitted, and he frowned deeply. “I…I see what you mean. I suppose not. Nate told me over the phone that Emma wanted them reframed, so I just assumed…oh, dear.”
The poor old man. She put a hand on his, patting his tissue-paper skin. “It’s all right. I’m sure she just told Nate, and he was carrying out her orders. Considering you know him so well.”
But what she didn’t tell Sloane was that in her book, this boy he’d known forever was looking more and more like a dirty rat.
And then there was this Denise…
“What do you know about Denise Summers?”
Sloane’s nostrils flared, and he looked like he’d smelled something bad. “Up until…”
“…the stool incident,” Kylie filled in when he paused longer than she had patience for.
“Yes. Until then, I would have told you that Ms. Summers was a capable assistant. Timely and all that.”
“Did you know of her and Nate’s affair?”
The nostrils flared again. “Only when I was forced to bleach Mr. Jennings’s favorite seating implement a number of times.”
Seating implement? Kylie smiled.
“One other thing. You said that Nate called you about taking the paintings for reframing. How sure are you that it was Nate you were speaking to?”
His bushy white eyebrows knitted together. “Quite sure. He said it was.”
“Yes, but how do you know it wasn’t someone pretending to be him?”
“Oh.” He picked up a pickle and then set it back down. “Oh. No, I don’t believe that could happen. I know Nate’s voice well, having practically raised him. And whenever he calls, he’s very sociable. We talk for a while about many things. I think I would know if someone was pretending to be him. Besides, who would do such a thing?”
She shrugged. “You’ve been very helpful.”
Kylie thanked him and decided to head downtown to this Artful Frames shop, just to see if she could find the whereabouts of the paintings. She parked outside the tiny shop and went in.
A bald, middle-aged man with glasses was standing behind the counter of the empty place, walls littered with frames of every shape and size. “Hello!” he called cheerily. “May I help you?”
“Yes.” She beamed back at him. “Are you the owner of this place?”
“Indeed, I am. Jeffry Gaines, at your service.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gaines. I’d like to talk to you about some reframing you’re working on for Emma Jennings?”
He frowned thoughtfully, his lips silently repeating the name. “Jennings?”
Uh-oh.
“You don’t know the name?”
His nostrils flared a little. “And you are?”
Kylie stuck out a hand, thinking that not having business cards would be the bane of her existence. “Kylie, Mrs. Jennings’s new assistant. We’re doing an audit of her gallery.”
He looked mildly more impressed. “Well, in that case, of course I know who Mrs. Jennings is. Her husband was the famed artist, Arnold Jennings. Magnificent work.” He clasped both hands to his chest, seemingly enthralled by some memory. “Just magnificent.”
Kylie supposed she’d never understand art, but now wasn’t the time to try. “Do you remember the last time you were commissioned to frame one of his works?”
The glow faded into another frown. “They have used us in the past, but I’m afraid not recently.” Moving to a desk in the back of the room, he flipped through a file. “Yes, it’s been over five years.”
When Arnold Jennings passed away.
“Are you sure? I have three paintings that were sent out for reframing a couple months ago, and I’ve been trying to locate them for her.” Kylie leaned over the counter to see what he was digging through. “It would have been, oh, over two months ago?”
“Three paintings?” He paged through his files some more. “I’m sorry, they were never brought here. I have no record of them whatsoever. And even if they were, we wouldn’t have kept them two months, for certain. Our normal turnaround time is two weeks. Customer service is our priority.”
“Oh. Well. Thank you.”
He pulled out a pen and paper and started to scribble something down for her. He handed her a paper with the words, BAKER FRAMING, printed on it. “Maybe she had them sent there? We always have people confusing us.”
Kylie took it. “Maybe. I hope so. Thank you.”
He called a “good luck” after her as she left and went out to her car, finding the number for Baker Framing on her phone. She called them right away and asked them if they happened to have an order from an Emma or Nate Jennings there. The salesclerk told her that they had nothing fitting the description of the three paintings at all.
Kylie thanked her and ended the call, then let out a big breath of air.
She definitely smelled a rat in Nate
Jennings. She called his number again and left yet another voicemail message. And she was totally going to smoke him out.
Denise Summers too.
As Kylie headed back toward the office, she passed a well-kept, stately brick building with golden eagles on the front, and read the sign. Coulter and Associates.
But it wasn’t the bloodsucking lawyers she ended up thinking about.
No, she was thinking of the other Coulter, the black sheep of the family.
Taking a deep breath, Kylie punched in a call to Jacob, wondering if Linc would be angry at her for talking to him. He’d been so off the other night, which was completely out of left field.
He answered with his typical, “Yello?”
“Hi, Jacob. It’s Kylie.”
“Kylie! And what has you calling me on this fine day?”
“I was just.…” She paused, trying to decide how to approach this. “I was just wondering if you’d noticed anything different about Linc lately.”
“Different. Hell yeah. He’s moody as hell. Moodier than his normal, bad-boy brooding. You caught that too?”
“Yeah. I haven’t talked to him in a couple days, and I’m worried about him.”
“Listen,” he said after a long sigh. “I get the feeling he’s going through some stuff right now, and as hard as it is to hear, he needs some space. That’s Linc. He was always the loner type. When he was dealing with shit, he did it on his own.”
“Maybe. But is that healthy?”
“It’s what he does. What he knows. What he’s comfortable with. If you try to tell him otherwise, Kylie, he may end up pushing you away for good. He does that, sometimes. He’s not the easiest guy to get to know.”
She bristled at the thought of pushing him so hard that he removed himself completely from her life. Maybe she’d done that already?
Kylie gnashed her teeth together. She wasn’t sure she could bear that.
“Well. Thanks, Jacob. I’ll take that under consideration,” she said, ending the call and throwing her phone down on the passenger seat.
As much as she tried to convince herself that she was angry at Linc for what he’d done, when she thought really hard and long about it, she was sad.
Because she got the feeling he was keeping away from her for one reason only, and it wasn’t because he didn’t care about her, or didn’t want her around.