From the Murky Deep

by Kerry J Charles

Painting is easy when you don't know how,

  but very difficult when you do.

  ― Edgar Degas

  CHAPTER 14

  Ross Davenport-Jones sat in his study and listened to the clocks tick. He had been doing quite a lot of that lately. Nothing was working for him except all of those steady, dependable clocks.

  The police had questioned him that morning. Detective Nicholas Black had driven down from Portland to speak with him. Jennifer had been murdered, he had said. She’d been poisoned with ketamine. The detective knew that Ross was a veterinarian. And he knew full well that Ross had ketamine.

  “Has anyone other than yourself had access to your medicine cabinet? … Do you always keep it locked? … Where are the keys kept? … Do you ever carry ketamine with you in your medical bag? … Do you leave your bag unguarded?” Ross knew exactly where the questions led. The world was closing in on him. The clocks were ticking away the hours, minutes, seconds, taunting him because they knew it was only a matter of time before everyone would know.

  Something had to be done. He needed to either come clean or make his move. He knew he could not do the former. He would lose everything, including his practice. Being a vet was the only thing that made Ross truly happy. It was all that he had ever wanted. If that suddenly disappeared from his life, he would have no reason to wake up every morning.

  He thought about Clark. Damn fool. Wasting his life. Ross had tried so many times to make something of him. Nothing seemed to take. And with the years passing, Ross realized that they had less and less in common. Sometimes he didn’t even believe that Ross was actually his son.

  Lydia. The image of her popped into his head without warning. Maybe she was the answer. Jennifer had failed him. He knew now that he had never truly trusted her. But Lydia seemed different. She always seemed so innocent and fresh. Could she be the solution?

  Ross picked up his cell phone and looked up Clark’s home number. The phone rang several times before anyone answered.

  He heard Lydia’s voice say, “Hello? Oh, Ross, it’s you. Would you like to speak to Clark? He’s not home right now.”

  Ross smiled for the first time in days. “No Lydia, it’s actually you that I wanted to talk with.”

  Now, perhaps he was getting somewhere.

  Ten minutes later, Lydia put down the phone as Clark walked in the door. She looked up at him. “That was your father,” she said.

  “Huh. Just missed him. That’s too bad,” he said without a hint of remorse.

  “Actually, he wanted to talk to me.”

  “You?” Clark stopped and turned toward her. “Why?”

  “Well, it seems he wants to buy me a horse.”

  #

  Ross hopped out of the Land Rover. He felt buoyant. “This could actually work!” he said quietly to no one but himself. He took the front steps two at a time and rang the bell. In less than a minute he was comfortably seated in Donald Winter’s overcrowded study.

  “Jonsey!” Donald used his perpetual shout. “You sounded out of breath on the phone! What’s up?”

  Ross breathed deeply to calm himself. He counted to five before he spoke. “Sorry about that. I’d just finished loading up the car after a farm call. Things have been busy.”

  “Good for you!” Donald yelled. “Whattaya need?”

  “I wanted to run something by you. The mare we talked about last time, Attagirl. You wanted to sell her. I’ve been looking for a gift for my new daughter-in-law, and this might be just the thing. She’s talked about wanting to learn how to ride. I don’t know what you’re thinking of for a price, but….”

  Donald Winters sat back in his chair and reached for the scotch, never more than arm’s length away. “Gimme what ya got,” he shouted, smiling.

  Ross gave him a number on the low side of Attagirl’s worth. He held his breath.

  “Hmmm,” said Donald. “I haven’t heard back from that woman who was interested before, so I guess that’s dead in the water.” He poured a dram and swirled it, peering into the glass.

  Ross felt a wave of panic begin to rise in his chest. Why had Donald used that phrase, ‘dead in the water’? Did he know something?

  Then Donald smiled at Ross over the rim of his glass and slapped his knee. “But, I’ll be damned if we don’t have a deal!” he hooted. He gestured to an empty glass beside him. “You have one too! We’ll celebrate!” He poured the scotch and handed it to Ross.

  Ross tried to stay calm. He was grateful for the drink. It was an effective distraction. “Thank you,” he simply said, not indicating if he meant the drink or the horse.

  “I’ll call up my lawyer. Draw up the papers. You do what you need to do. I’ll take a check or whatever you like. I know you’re as honest as they come, Jonsey!” He plunked his empty glass down loudly on the metal tray beside him making the scotch bottle tip precariously.

  Ross knew it was his cue to leave. He tossed back his drink in one gulp, shook Donald Winter’s hand and nearly ran out of the room.

  Lexi had finished her ride several minutes earlier and had quietly entered the house, knowing that her uncle was talking with Ross Davenport-Jones. She had seen his Land Rover outside. Of course she had heard every word. She watched from the shadow of the staircase as the front door closed behind him. Her mind worked quickly. This was interesting information. How to use it was the question.

  She silently slipped from the house when Ross had driven away and slid behind the wheel of her car. Carefully, thoughtfully, she made her way along the winding roads and back into the city of Boston.

  #

  “What did you tell her?” Lexi asked, sipping her coffee in bed, her blond hair perfectly tousled.

  “Tell who?” Clark said lazily from beside her as he blew on the top of his own coffee.

  “Your wife?”

  His hand jerked and he spilled coffee on the sheet. “Dammit! Sorry.”

  “Never mind that,” Lexi said. “What did you say?”

  “I just said I had to talk with my parents and might as well stay down with them.”

  Lexi’s smile was incredulous. “And she bought that?”

  “She seemed to. She said it was fine, that she was thinking of seeing her mother.”

  “And you bought that?”

  “Lexi, what do you care? I’m here. That’s what you wanted. Right?”

  Lexi did not know what she wanted any more. For the first time, she actually began to think that the way she was leading her life might not be quite right. She pushed the idea from her mind.

  “Of course, darling! That’s exactly what I wanted!” She held her cup toward him. “Now be a dear and get me some more coffee?”

  Without hesitating, Ross took both of their cups and left the room. Lexi shook her head. This was just too easy.

  #

  Nicholas Black drove north toward Portland. He liked long drives. He never played the radio or listened to anything. He preferred the silence. They sky was deep blue and crystal clear. His thoughts were not.

  Nick’s mind wandered through his conversations with all of the suspects. He had finished interviews with everyone for the time being. Now they all knew that Jennifer was murdered. “This is when things could start to get interesting,” he said out loud.

  Considering everyone, Ross Davenport-Jones had seemed the most nervous. Nick knew that he was definitely hiding something. Not unusual, certainly. Everyone had something to hide. Ross’s reactions had been something more, though. Nick needed to find out more about him.

  Amelia had been the opposite. Cool. Controlled. She had looked slightly surprised to hear that Jennifer had been murdered, but quickly went back to her perpetual self-centered manner. When he had mentioned the ketamine, she had said, “You know my husband’s a vet. He uses the stuff, I’m sure. Not that he’d ever have the guts to do something like kill someone.”

  Lydia was still on Nick’s list. He thought it unlikely that she had killed her sister, but he had seen it happen before. Fits
of jealousy. Moments of rage. Old family rivalries. It would not be the first time.

  Then there was Clark Davenport-Jones. He had been interesting. “Smooth” was the first word that came to Nick’s mind. Clark had certainly had time to prepare. Nick was not able to interview him until well after everyone else.

  What puzzled Nick most, however, was the art. Everything about the case seemed so personal. Jennifer’s death had been carefully planned. If the murderer took that much trouble, and risk, to bring about her death, why did Jennifer still have the van Gogh? Certainly someone who planned so carefully would have made sure that they were able to get the painting. What did the art have to do with it all? Did it have anything to do with it? Maybe it was completely unrelated to Jennifer’s death? Nick couldn’t convince himself that they were two isolated yet coincidental incidents.

  He pulled into the station and saw his partner’s car. ‘Coffee with Johnson. That’s what’s in order,’ he thought. He found Adam Johnson at his desk in the perpetual position: leaning back, feet up, eyes closed. “Hey!” Nick said loudly. “Not gettin’ anything done like that!”

  Johnson opened his eyes slowly. “I happen to be contemplating a case. They require thought and consideration. Maybe you should try it instead of having your ass in the car running around all the time.”

  Nick just laughed. “Why don’t you get your ass out of that chair and let’s go get a coffee.”

  Johnson was up in a flash. “You buyin’?”

  Nick grinned. “Always, it seems.”

  They walked to Roasters, got coffee in addition to a cheese danish for Johnson, and were about to slide into their usual booth when Dulcie came through the door. “There’s your girlfriend,” Johnson grunted as he eased himself onto the seat.

  “Okay, she’s not my….”

  Dulcie had spotted them and was already within earshot.

  “Hi guys. Mind if I join you? I’ve just found out something interesting.”

  “No problem,” said Johnson. “Nick, slide over and make some room for the lady.”

  “Let me go get a coffee first,” said Dulcie and continued over to the counter.

  Nick glared at his partner. “Do not start! We’re on a case. Don’t distract me!” Johnson just chuckled and stuffed a large piece of danish into his mouth.

  Dulcie came back and slid in next to Nick. “This may or may not be interesting but it seems like a pretty big coincidence.”

  “What’s that?” asked Nick.

  “I keep reaching dead-ends with the ownership of the two works that we found under the lobster trap. I did find out, however, that Amelia Davenport-Jones likes to collect a variety of things. And a gallery owner I spoke with in Boston all but admitted that she bought a Cocteau poster.”

  Nick was thoughtful. “Are you sure it was the same one? You said that there were multiple copies.”

  “Yes, but everything else seems to be accounted for, in this region anyway. I checked on the provenance for each. No minor task. Fortunately, I have a small army of interns to do my bidding. Plus, it’d be a pretty big coincidence if two identical works were sold in the same city at the same time.”

  “True.” Nick looked over at his partner.

  Johnson polished off the last of the danish, washing it down with swig of coffee. “I’m with her,” he said, raising his cup to Dulcie. “Too big a coincidence. Question is then, how’d it get into the hands of little Miss Jennifer so she could stick it in a tube and hide it underwater?”

  The lightening bolt hit Nick and Dulcie at the same moment. “Lydia took it!” they said simultaneously.

  Johnson grinned. “My thoughts exactly,” he said calmly as he delicately wiped the crumbs from his mouth with a paper napkin.

  #

  The purchase of Attagirl had gone through quickly. Before he knew it, Ross was the new owner, along with Lydia of course. He had made sure his name was on the paperwork. Lydia looked at the mare standing out in the paddock and wondered if this was such a good idea.

  She had never ridden a horse before. “The rich ride,” her sister had told her. Jennifer had wanted her to learn. “Just get the basics so you can talk about it somewhat intelligently at one of those damned cocktail parties.”

  Clark sat astride another horse, holding the reigns of Attagirl. “Just slide your foot into the stirrup, grab the front of the saddle, and in one quick motion swing your leg up and over,” Lydia heard Ross say.

  She let him guide her foot into the stirrup. Ross said, “Okay, on the count of three. One, two, three…” He lifted Lydia by the waist and she swung her leg around.

  ‘That wasn’t so bad,’ she thought.

  As she settled her weight back into the saddle, however, Attagirl made a strange noise. Then, neighing loudly, she bucked, her front legs flailing in front of her. The reigns instantly slipped from Clark’s hands.

  Lydia felt herself flying backward through the air, then felt her helmet slam against something very hard. She saw the stables spinning around her, and the world went black.

  The light slowly filtered back into her mind as Lydia opened her eyes. She was in a hospital room. No one was around. Her head was throbbing. She tried to speak but nothing came out. Frantically she clawed at the tubes and wires and buttons around her looking for something that would call a nurse.

  The doctor walked in the room seconds before Lydia was about to pull out her IV. “Whoa there!” she said. “You’re awake! You’re safe and you’ll be fine! Let’s just lie back down here,” she spoke calmly and, seeing Lydia struggling with it, pulled the blanket up over her. “Do you know your name?”

  Lydia’s body crumpled back onto the pillows. “Lydia Hully. I mean, Lydia Davenport-Jones.” She began to cry.

  “Shhh. You’re okay, but you do have a concussion. They tell me you were airborne for a few seconds! Do you want me to call someone for you? I think your husband and your father-in-law just went for a coffee.”

  “No!” said Lydia, almost fearfully. “Don’t tell them I’m awake!” She thought for several moments. “I know. Is my cell phone around? I know who I can call.”

  The doctor looked slightly confused, but reached into a drawer and located Lydia’s phone. Lydia took it quickly, looked up a number, and dialed.

  “It’s Lydia. I’m in the hospital. I need to talk to you. Can you come over here now?” Then she simply thanked the person on the other end of the line and clicked off the phone. “My head really hurts,” she whispered, dropping the phone on the bed in front of her.

  “I can imagine,” said the doctor as she checked Lydia’s pulse. Do you want more medicine for it? We can increase your dose a little in the drip.” She gestured toward the IV.

  “Will it make me drowsy?” asked Lydia.

  “Yes, it will,” the doctor replied.

  “Then I don’t want it yet. I have to talk to somebody. When I’m done, then yes, I’d like some more.”

  “No problem,” the doctor smiled. “Why don’t you press this,” she slid a plastic call button into Lydia’s hand, “when you’re ready. Should I put your phone back in the drawer?”

  Lydia nodded, then winced. Moving her head at all hurt.

  “Yes, try not to move your head any more than necessary,” said the doctor as she left.

  ‘Now you tell me,’ thought Lydia.

  Dulcie walked quickly down the hallway, checking room numbers. She had already called Nick. He was on his way. At last she found Lydia.

  As she came through the door, Lydia looked up. For a split second her face was contorted in fear, then it relaxed as she saw Dulcie.

  “Thank God, it’s you!” she said. “Don’t let them in here!”

  Dulcie looked confused. “Don’t let who in?”

  Lydia was shaking. “Clark. And Ross,” she said simply. “They tried to kill me.”

  “What?” The word had burst out of Dulcie’s mouth before she could stop it.

  “I know. It’s crazy. But I think they tried to kill
me. Ross, my father-in-law, gave me a horse. I don’t know why. I’d mentioned riding but wasn’t really that serious. He gave me the horse and then they convinced me to go for a ride with Clark. He was already on his horse. Ross helped me up, but as soon as I sat down in the saddle, the horse bucked. She’d seemed so gentle. It was like someone had kicked her or something. I went flying off, hit my head, and I woke up here.”

  Dulcie did not know what to think. “But if they wanted you dead, why did they bring you here?”

  Tears began to stream down Lydia’s face. “That isn’t all. I have to tell you something. I can’t keep it a secret any longer. I think Jen might have already told you anyway, since your phone number was on her hand. I took the artwork. From my mother-in-law. I took them, Jen hid them, then we sold them. At first I did it out of spite. Then I did it because I knew Amelia hated me and Clark was cheating on me!” Lydia lowered her voice to a whisper. “I think it was with that awful woman who just appeared at Jennifer’s funeral. Alexia Kent.” She put her hands to her face and sobbed. “It’s so humiliating! What have I done? What’s going to happen now? Help me, please!”

  Dulcie handed her a box of tissues. A slight noise from the hallway made Dulcie turn. She saw Nick standing there, just out of Lydia’s sight. He put his finger to his lips.

  “Wow. That’s a lot to confess, Lydia. But it doesn’t explain why they would want to kill you. Does it?”

  Lydia snuffled her nose into a fresh wad of tissues and looked out the window. “No, not really. Nothing makes sense any more.”

  She looked very small in the hospital bed. Very small, and very weak. Dulcie thought, ‘She needs rest, and not just from that bump on her head.’

  “Let me get a doctor or nurse, and see what they can do for you. Would you like me to have someone stay with you?” she asked.