Lia smiled. “It is.” The nip at Lia’s ankle had long been forgiven.
“Hmm,” Diana said as she paused her work on the luscious raspberry-colored sweater. “Have you possibly overlooked Eva as a murder suspect, Lia?”
“Eva?”
“Maybe Darren was on the verge of dropping her, and she flew into a rage?”
Lia scrunched her face in doubt. “I can’t see Eva getting worked into a rage over anything. Besides, Darren wasn’t murdered in a fit of rage. It was clearly planned. That wouldn’t fit Eva, either.”
“I fear we’re back to Annie,” Jen said, and Lia sighed.
At that point Jen’s husband, Bob, who’d apparently been eavesdropping from the kitchen, entered the room, one of Hayley’s spinach balls in hand. “You’re not going to eliminate her because she’s a woman, are you?” he asked.
A chorus of protests answered him, but he stuck to his guns. “Maybe it was my imagination, but it seemed like you all are looking for reasons to pin it on the two men while coming up with excuses for why it couldn’t be the women. I’m here to stand up for my gender.” He popped the entire spinach ball into his mouth.
“Bob, dear, you have to admit men commit the majority of violent crimes,” Jen said.
“Mere statistics,” her husband responded, “which prove nothing. If men commit the majority, then women commit at least some of those crimes, not none. Annie could very well be one of those in the minority. I’m just saying she shouldn’t be so easily overlooked, especially with what you know about her.”
“Bob’s right,” Lia said, earning an acknowledging bow from him. “I mean about not being overly generous to our own gender. We can’t let bias of any sort get in the way of our thinking. Facts are what are important. And, Bob, I promise you that’s absolutely what I’m trying to work with.”
And she meant it. She just needed a few more facts.
* * *
* * *
Wow, I didn’t realize the Ninth Street Knitters were so involved with our Crandalsburg murders.” Rain started to dot Hayley’s windshield as she drove them home from York, and she clicked on her wipers. “I didn’t know they cared so much about Belinda.”
“They barely know her,” Lia said. “But they know she’s my friend and care about her being treated fairly. Plus, with rumors continuing to fly over the unsolved murders, attendance at the craft fair has been terrible. If the craft fair closes, there goes the perfect outlet for our knitting. It would, of course, be much worse for Belinda.”
“I liked the way they tossed out different ideas,” Hayley said.
“Yes, they’ve come up with information I might never have found on my own. Tracy told me about Eva Mathis’s background, and Jen passed on the fact that Annie often goes out and about alone and late at night.”
“And Mr. Beasley thinks Annie’s our prime suspect.”
“Well, I think he just didn’t want us to dismiss her too easily.”
“We won’t. She’ll stay on our radar,” Hayley said. “But I’ll keep digging for something that connects Joan and the professor.” She reached Lia’s street and pulled into the space in front of the house. “Our Internet service is back,” she said, turning to Lia. “Did I tell you?”
“No, but that’s good to hear.”
It was very good to hear, since Lia had a few searches of her own planned.
Chapter 36
The next morning, Hayley slept late, and Lia, who’d had her own breakfast and cleaned up after it, guessed she’d been working online until the wee hours. Lia had been online, too, in her own room, but had finished much earlier. Her searches were less broad ranging than Hayley’s. They’d produced one or two interesting things, and her next quest would need to be done in person. She’d already made a call to set it up.
Lia originally intended to invite Hayley along with her but decided not to disturb her. What Lia planned could be handled just as easily on her own. She had just slipped on a light jacket when Hayley straggled down the stairs.
“You’re going out?”
“I shouldn’t be too long. Anything come up about Joan and Martin?”
“Uh-uh.” Hayley rubbed at her sleepy eyes. “But I learned a lot about Penn State. Did you know the school’s stadium is the fourth largest in the world?”
“I didn’t know that,” Lia said with a smile. “There’s plenty of eggs, by the way, if you want them. The milk is getting low, but there should be enough for cereal. I’ll pick some up on my way back.”
“Okay,” Hayley said. “Thanks. Right now I just need something to wake me up.” She shuffled off toward the kitchen with a “See you later,” more focused on coffee than whatever Lia’s errand might be.
Lia got into her car and entered an address into the GPS. Her destination drive time was given as forty-five minutes, surprisingly short, though it would largely be on high-speed roads. She put her car in gear and started off, many questions running through her head that she hoped to find answers for.
* * *
* * *
The house Lia pulled up to was modest, a one-story brick among blocks of other one-story bricks, possibly built in the seventies. They were differentiated mainly by door colors or shrubbery, many of which were either overgrown or tired-looking. The Nortons’ front yard included a plastic duck with ducklings that had seen better days, but the garden they graced was colorful.
Lia’s knock was answered by a silver-haired, rotund woman. Lia caught the resemblance immediately, and, although she had been prepared after what she’d found online, it shook her. “Mrs. Norton?” she asked.
Her hostess smiled with open excitement. “Marian Norton.” She reached out to take Lia’s hands in both of her own. “And you must be Lia! It’s so nice of you to stop by.” Her voice was soft and oddly high-pitched, almost childlike. “We’re so happy to meet one of Ginny’s friends.”
“Thank you,” Lia said and stepped in.
The small entryway led directly into the living room, where a gray-haired man struggled to get out of a recliner, its footrest apparently stuck. Lia begged him to stay put and shook his outstretched hand as Marian Norton introduced her husband, Frank. Marian then grabbed the TV remote and turned down the sound, leaving Judge Judy’s face on the screen, presiding sternly but silently over her TV courtroom.
Lia took a seat on the brown tweed sofa as Marian twittered again about how pleased they were she’d stopped in. She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with coffee and cookies, which she pressed on Lia. Though it was normal hostess fussing, it only made Lia feel worse about intruding under somewhat false pretenses. Lia hoped that nothing would come out of her visit that would disrupt the couple’s simple but apparently satisfying life, though she wasn’t at all certain of that.
“So,” Marian began in her unusual voice as she took a seat across from Lia, “you work at the Crandalsburg Craft Fair? Ginny told us about the fair.”
“Did she? What has she said?”
Marian suddenly squirmed. “Oh,” she said, “most of it was very, very good, wasn’t it, Frank?” Frank nodded solemnly.
“But?” Lia prodded.
Marian first asked what Lia’s position was at the craft fair. Reassured when she learned Lia ran a knitting booth, she said, “It was another vendor, a lady who sold her own paintings. Ginny didn’t think she belonged there at all. She really didn’t.”
“And why was that?’ Lia took a polite sip of her coffee. The Nortons didn’t seem aware of either Joan Fowler’s name or her murder.
“Well, Ginny has an eye for such things, of course, being an artist herself and all.” Frank nodded several times over that.
“Ginny’s an artist? I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t? Well, maybe I shouldn’t have said. She doesn’t like the attention. It can be so distracting. But she’s a wonderful artist! She’s
been making pictures since she was little and could barely hold a crayon, hasn’t she, Frank?”
Frank agreed with a stream of enthusiastic uh-huhs.
The Norton’s front doorknob rattled, and a woman of about forty shouldered her way in, a bag in each arm along with a tote in one hand. A loaf of Wonder bread poked out of the tote.
“Angie!” Marian said. “I forgot you were coming today.” She got up to take one of the bags. “This is our other daughter, Angie, Ginny’s sister,” she explained to Lia as she turned toward the kitchen. “Angie, Lia Geiger is a friend of Ginny’s!”
“A friend?” Angie’s frowning look was very different from Mrs. Norton’s excited greeting.
“Well, we’ve chatted several times,” Lia said. She worked at keeping her voice level after having just found out Ginny had a sister. “At the craft fair. I’m a vendor there.”
Angie nodded and continued on to the kitchen without comment.
“Angie does my shopping for me,” Marian explained as she hurried back. Lia could hear bags rattling. “Angie!” Marian called. “Let that be for now. Come join us.” She sat back down and said, “Now, tell me. How is Ginny doing? She must have lots of paintings ready by now!”
“Um,” Lia said, “she’s been working hard.” As was Lia, who’d been struggling with Marian’s string of surprising statements. “Have you seen her lately?”
“Oh no,” Marian said solemnly. “A serious artist like her doesn’t have much time to spare.”
“And besides,” Angie said as she came into the living room, “we don’t know exactly where she is.”
“You don’t?”
“Well, she moves a lot,” Marian explained in her childlike voice. “Trying to find the right light to work in, and all those kinds of things artists have to think about, you know. But she comes by when she can, doesn’t she, Angie?”
“Right. Like, uh, last February?”
“Yes, on Daddy’s birthday!” Mrs. Norton said, clapping her hands together. “It was such a lovely surprise.”
“Lovely,” Angie echoed.
“And so lucky that I happened to make that extra dish of macaroni and cheese. It was always Ginny’s favorite,” Marian said.
Lia noticed Angie’s eyes move toward the ceiling whenever Ginny’s name was mentioned.
“Would you like to see Ginny’s work?” Angie asked Lia. “My parents have piles of her paintings. We should show them to her, Mom.”
Marian looked conflicted. “Why, yes. I’d love to take you down there. Only, well, don’t mention it to Ginny, okay? It should be fine, you being a friend of hers and all. And I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to show somebody her pictures. But Ginny always said not to. Not yet.”
“Why is that?”
Marian rocked her head back and forth, her eyes shining. “She’s getting ready for a big show! In New York. She needs to keep it all under wraps until then. You probably know how it goes.”
Lia didn’t, but she managed a nod. “How nice.” She rose and followed mother and daughter through the kitchen to a narrow back hallway. There, a door opened to the basement stairway. Lia could hear Judge Judy’s voice berating a plaintiff as Frank apparently returned the sound to his TV.
The three clumped down the stairs to a pine-paneled room. It might once have been usable as a sitting room but now had a multitude of boxes taking up much of the space between the few pieces of worn furniture. Marian wound her way through it all to reach another door, Angie and Lia following. When Marian opened the door and clicked on the light, Lia was amazed to see rows and rows of unframed, paint-covered canvases filling the storage area, all sizes, some on shelves, others lined upright on the floor, and several canvases deep.
“My goodness!” Lia exclaimed. “There’s quite a lot.”
“Years and years’ worth,” Marian verified. “Starting from middle school.”
“Really? Is that when Ginny began studying art?”
Marian threw Lia a look of pride. “Oh no. She didn’t need to be taught. It all came to her naturally.”
Lia gazed at the overwhelming array of color, only gradually able to focus on individual pieces. She moved into the storage room and picked up a small canvas to examine, along with the one next to it, both lake scenes, then set them back down to step back for a broader look. She was about to ask if these were from that early, middle school period, when Marian helpfully said, “She left those two with us in February.”
“Oh.” Lia was at a loss for what to say. The paintings were . . . not very good. She remembered Hayley’s efforts in middle school, which the art teacher had kindly described as “creative,” obviously searching for something positive to say. Hayley had many talents, but she was not an artist. Neither, it was apparent to Lia, was Ginny. But from the look on her mother’s face, she’d managed to convince her that she was. Angie looked less convinced, and Lia noticed she was watching her closely.
Just to be sure of her own opinion, Lia checked as many canvases as she could, flipping through the stacks and holding several up to the light. None were of an abstract contemporary style that Lia freely admitted she had no eye for. Ginny had stuck to a more realistic style, doing still lifes, landscapes, and a few portraits. She’d also attempted copies of well-known paintings that Lia recognized—or barely recognized. The attempts were increasingly painful to look at, one in particular being a reproduction of Winslow Homer’s Hauling Anchor. Lia had viewed that painting at the National Gallery of Art and even owned a print, which she’d never gotten around to framing. Ginny’s version of the watercolor depicting a sailboat off Key West looked more like a child’s folded-paper boat manned by Fisher-Price toy people. She doubted that Hayley’s art teacher would have been able to come up with something positive, considering they had been done by an adult and not an adolescent.
Lia knew the women were waiting for comments. What to say?
“Marian!” Frank Norton’s voice bellowed down the stairs, the first complete word Lia had heard from him. “Telephone. Doctor’s office.”
“I’ll be right there!” She turned apologetically to Lia. “I’ve been trying to reach them for hours.”
She rushed off, and Angie switched off the storage room light. “Mom’s got health problems. They both do, but Mom’s worse.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lia said. She moved into the center room as Angie began to close the door.
“Yeah. She doesn’t always admit it, but she’s not up to doing a lot of things she used to do. I help out. So what did you think of my sister’s paintings?”
Lia had reached the staircase. Angie’s sudden question caught her with a foot on the first step. “Oh, I’m really not a good judge of artwork,” she hedged.
“Me neither,” Angie said. “But even I can tell they’re junk.” She smiled at Lia’s surprise. “Yeah, my folks have swallowed her line for years. I go along with it ’cause I don’t want to hurt them. Not that they’d believe me, anyway.”
“I’m sorry. That must be hard.”
Angie shrugged. “I deal with it.”
“Angie,” Marian’s voice sailed down from the kitchen. “Will you be able to take me to an appointment Saturday at two?”
“Sure, Mom.”
Lia continued up the stairs and into the kitchen, where Marian was apparently finishing up her call. By the time she’d hung up, Lia had made her way to the front door. There, she thanked Marian profusely for her hospitality, while hinting at an appointment of her own she needed to hurry off to. She was eager to leave without further discussion of paintings.
Marian issued a flood of come-on-back-anytime invitations as Lia edged out the door and down the short walk, while Angie stood stolidly and silently behind her mother. Once inside her car, Lia waved a final good-bye to her watching hostess before driving off. But after a few blocks she pulled into an empty spo
t next to the curb to make an unobserved phone call.
“Belinda,” she said when her call was picked up. “I have some questions for you.”
Chapter 37
When Lia got home, she found a note from Hayley taped to the end of the stair banister.
Had to run out. Back soon.
Just as well, Lia decided. She needed quiet time to think. She grabbed a quick bite to eat, then carried a cup of tea to her knitting chair, where she pulled out Paulette’s alpaca sweater to work on. The knitting began to work its magic, settling her mind, and as the needles flew, her thoughts slowly organized themselves. By the time she came to the end of one sleeve, Lia thought she could see the entire picture more clearly. Only one knotty problem remained.
Daphne, who’d been curled up nearby, suddenly lifted her head. Lia also heard the car door slam and knew that Hayley had returned. Lia set down her knitting.
“Hi, Mom!” Hayley bounced into the house in high spirits, until she caught sight of Lia’s face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Lia assured her. “But something important came up this morning that I want to tell you about. Are you hungry? This might take a while.”
“No, I ate over at the—never mind. I’m good.” Hayley sat on the sofa across from Lia.
Lia took a deep breath. “This morning I drove to Boggs Creek.”
Hayley frowned. “Boggs Creek? Where is that? Why?”
“It’s less than an hour’s drive from here. Just far enough away for Ginny Norton to keep her family out of her life.”
“Ginny Norton.” Hayley pondered the name. “Is that the woman who’s always wandering around the craft fair? Why does she want her family out of her life?”
“As best I can tell because she’s created a fictional life for herself which she needs them to believe, and her parents clearly do, wholeheartedly. But if they saw her reality it would burst their bubble and maybe also burst hers.”
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