Izzie flashed the lights to grab everyone’s attention. “Hi, everyone. Thank you for attending this evening. My name is Izzie Abbington and this is my sister, Chloe Abbington. I recognize several of you from town—fellow shop owners, neighbors, and a couple of friends. We really appreciate your love and support. You being here means everything. For those guests who are strangers, our parents have lived in Whisper Cove for years, decades actually. We come from a long line of artists, several generations of painters, sculptors, and, if we go back far enough, there was a blacksmith who made metal art in his spare time. Or so Chloe and I have been told.”
I laughed, along with others, at the mention of our great-great-great-uncle who had lived in Vermont and, at the age of fifty, gave up his smithy shop to spend the remainder of his life doing what he loved. The story grew more romantic with every telling. Dad had a true gift of gab.
My breath caught and I choked on a laugh as Ross and Detective Barrett walked into the shop together. I clutched my paintbrush. Both were smiling. No stern faces or finger jabbing or shouts, which was a relief. Two men having what looked like a pleasant conversation. I scowled. That bothered me even more. I didn’t want Ross to be chummy with the detective. In fact, the safer choice was for them not to talk to one another.
“Psst.” Izzie jabbed me in the side, then raised her voice. “Chloe, would you like to say something to our guests?”
“Yeah, sure.” My gaze shifted from the stations where everyone sat to the front door where a best bro bond was being formed that I couldn’t stop. “Welcome. Have a great time. Holler if you need help.” I glanced at Izzie before stepping off the stage. “Take over, will you? I’ll be just a minute.” I ignored the grumbles annunciated with plenty of colorful adjectives followed by the squeak of a hiccup.
“Okay then. Painting a lighthouse. We’re going to start by outlining with our pencils,” Izzie instructed.
I whipped through the center aisle toward the two men, hoping the conversation, particularly what Ross had to say, hadn’t gotten too personal. When it came to sensitive topics, like breakups, Ross would talk to anyone who’d listen and share every detail. I hardly knew Detective Barrett, but if my fear was real, he was learning a lot about me.
I skidded to a stop and attempted a casual posture, as if that was possible. “Hey, you guys. You came.”
“Wouldn’t miss the grand opening of my girlfriend’s business,” Ross said.
I sucked in air. “Not right on either count, but moving on. Detective Barrett. How are you?” I nodded.
“Same as I was when we talked less than twenty-four hours ago.” He tipped his chin. “Nice place. Good turnout.”
“Yes, and you should both take your seats.” I turned. “Ross, you’re at this end. Detective, you’ll find an open spot up front near Izzie.” Satisfied I’d put out the fire of Ross revealing my soap-opera life to Barrett, I worked my way back to the stage.
“Rinse your brushes thoroughly and wipe them dry with the paper towel. You’ll be using the white paint next.” Izzie cupped one hand around her mouth. “You take over the next step, will you? The sky and water background shouldn’t take long. I’m going to sneak outside for some fresh air.”
“Sure thing, boss.” I saluted.
“Goof.” Izzie hopped off the stage and walked out of the shop.
“Now, let’s put a dab of white on our brushes, then add a tiny amount of blue. Using wavy strokes, fill in the bottom third of your canvas.”
I concentrated while adding water and waves to my canvas, ignoring the low rumble of conversation coming from the front of the room. My gaze strayed, and I nearly dropped the brush. Detective Barrett leaned over to speak with Joanna Bixby, and, from her frown, she didn’t appear to be overjoyed by whatever he had to say. I laid my brush in the tray, then inched toward the edge of the stage. Giving the situation no more thought, I stepped into the aisle. “Willow and I are going to circulate around the room. If any of you have questions, raise your hand.”
I made a straight line to Detective Barrett’s station. “Detective, is there a problem? You haven’t added anything to your canvas.” I clucked my tongue like my third-grade art teacher would have done to show disapproval.
Barrett straightened. “Sorry, Miss Abbington. I was distracted.” His smirky grin hinted he wasn’t sorry.
“If you don’t keep up with the instruction, I can’t be responsible for the results.” I spoke through gritted teeth, but Joanna’s relaxed expression gave me a sense of victory.
He gestured with fingers touching his forehead to salute. “No problem. You’ve got my complete attention.”
That was even worse. I dropped the teacher act and moved around him to lean over Joanna’s shoulder. “Sorry, he won’t bother you again.”
“It’s okay. He’s just trying to do his job,” Joanna whispered close to my ear.
I patted her arm and scowled at Detective Barrett, then returned to the stage. “Now, when you’ve finished, I want you to rinse your brushes and—”
Izzie broke through the doorway, clutching her chest. “There’s—oh, my God. There’s a fire.” Her words came in sketchy breaths followed by a series of hiccups. “Sammy’s shop. It’s, it’s, oh my.” She plopped down in the closest chair.
As if an alarm went off, everyone got up and stampeded toward the door. I shoved my way through and straight to Izzie. “What happened? Are you hurt?” My hands traveled up and down her face, shoulders, and arms.
She wobbled her head and sobbed. “I’m fine. It’s just …” Her chest heaved. “Sammy’s shop is on fire. I heard the sirens and followed the sound. The firefighters are there now.” She gripped my arms. “Chloe, what if Sammy is inside? What if she dies?”
I shook my head. “Stop. She left town. Remember?” My brain worked to keep me from panicking, but thoughts of black-market thugs and knife-toting killers pushed their way in, and I worried right along with Izzie. What if Sammy was inside?
Chapter Eleven
Smoke rose from the roof of Quaint Décor, but the backdrop of an inky sky made the trail barely noticeable. The smell that teared my eyes and the crackling flames, though, told the story. I stood next to Izzie, several yards away from the sight. Detective Barrett had gone to assist in whatever way possible. Ross joined him. The scene left me both sad and terrified. Firefighters hosed the roof while others broke the front window glass to search inside. I shuddered at the thought of what they might find. Or who.
“Is that Penny?” Izzie pointed to a spot directly in front of her shop, The Healing Touch. “And is Hunter right next to her?”
I blinked to relieve the sting in my eyes. Penny stood with her arms tightly crossed while shaking her head. Izzie was right. The detective stood next to the shop owner. In the next instant, he walked away. After a brief pause to say something to one of the firefighters, he headed our way. I could see beyond him as men came out of Quaint Décor. My knees weakened. They weren’t carrying a gurney or a body bag, thank goodness.
“I’m heading back to the office. Everything’s under control here, and I need to file a report.” He paused. “Thank you for inviting me to your event. Sorry things didn’t go like you planned.”
I bypassed the pleasantries and zoned in on one tiny detail. “File a report? Why do you need to file a report?”
“Well, seems the men found traces of a flammable liquid, and rags soaked in kerosene were left by the door.”
My heartbeat skipped. “The fire wasn’t an accident.” I played connect the facts, and it took me down a path I didn’t care to go down. My head shot up and my eyes widened to stare at Detective Barrett.
His look told me he was thinking the same thing.
“Oh wow. Do you think the guys from Infinity did this?” Izzie’s voice squeaked.
I bit my lip. Make that three minds thinking alike.
“Until I have the evidence to prove it, I can’t say.” Barrett stroked his jaw. “Just in case, I’ll ask the sheriff to
have a couple of his deputies patrol the alley. If this was the work of an arsonist, he or she might return and set fire to more shops.”
Izzie hiccupped. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
I wrapped my arm around her waist while shooting Detective Barrett a steely glare. Even if it was unintentional, his suggestion about a crazy arsonist had set off Izzie’s panic button. “Let’s go close up the shop. I doubt anyone will come back to finish their paintings this evening.”
“The paintings!” Izzie dug her nails into my arm.
I winced and detached her fingers, one by one. “Don’t worry. We can email the guests and reschedule the event. You’ll see. Everything will be fine.”
“Chloe’s right. Safer to close up shop and go home,” Detective Barrett said.
“Yep. That’s where we’ll be as soon as possible. Come on, Izzie.” I tugged at her sleeve to hurry away. “Thanks, Detective. You’ve been a big help,” I called out as we gained distance. If we’d stayed another minute, no telling what else he’d have said. “Stick the other foot in his mouth, no doubt.”
“What was that?” Izzie stepped onto the walkway in front of the shop.
“Nothing. Let’s clean up and get out of here. I’m tired and need a bath to cool down.” I threw open the door.
“Wow. Would you look at this? You’re an angel. Thank you.” Izzie smiled.
Willow stood behind the counter. She’d collected all the used supplies and cleaned the stations. The unfinished canvases were placed along the walls to dry. Each one had an attached sticky note with the name of the guest artist. “Just thought I’d get a head start on clean-up rather than wait for you to come back. Is everything okay? I mean, is Sammy’s store all right?” She paused from wiping the counter, and her face wrinkled with concern.
“They put out the fire before the place burned to the ground. I don’t know for sure, but my guess is everything inside is toast.” Izzie flopped down in a chair.
“She’s right. We don’t know. We don’t really know much of anything.” I picked a dropped paper towel off the floor and tossed it in the trash can. “Looks like you’ve done a great job. We owe you.” I smiled at Willow, who shrugged.
“Okay, then. Let’s lock up and go home.” Izzie paused to glance at her phone that lay on the counter.
“It rang once while you guys were outside,” Willow said. “Beeped, too. Maybe whoever called left a message.”
“Probably Mom or Dad. I’m sure by now the whole town has heard about the fire.” Izzie talked while she held the phone to her ear. Seconds passed before she pressed another key and made a call.
“Izzie should pay you extra for all the cleaning.” I scanned the shop. Everything had been put back in its place and even the floor shined.
“Just doing my job.” Willow shoved the mop and bucket behind the counter. Turning, she grinned. “Guess I’ll be going. See you tomorrow? A few of the guests stopped back to ask when we plan to reschedule. I can help send out email notices, if you like.”
“Sure. We can talk about that tomorrow. Meet here at nine?”
“Sounds perfect.” She grabbed her bag and waved as she ducked outside.
“I can meet you tomorrow morning around eight … Not a problem. You have a good evening.” Izzie opened her bag and exchanged phone for keys, then swung around. “You ready?”
“Yeah, let me get my things from the back.” I made the trip to the storage room, then quickly returned to the front. “So, you’re meeting someone tomorrow morning?” I kept my voice even. “I thought we’d come here to talk about rescheduling the event and other shop stuff.”
Izzie flipped the light switch. “I won’t be long. We’ll have plenty of time to talk shop.”
Her eyes shined a little too brightly. I recognized the sign all too well. Call her Pinocchio and her nose would grow any second now. I bit down on my thumbnail. I didn’t want to intrude. She had a life and a right to keep a personal agenda, but secret meetings twice in one week? I shivered, not wanting to think about what had happened the last time. The secrets and sneaking around were killing me with curiosity, though. I opened my mouth to ask more, but my phone rang. I groaned and stabbed the button to answer. “Hi, Mom.”
“Well, don’t sound so crabby. I wanted to make sure you and your sister are okay. We heard about the fire …” Her voice trailed off.
“I’m sure everyone’s heard about the fire. We’re fine, Mom. Be home in few minutes. Bye.”
“That sounded rude.” Izzie pulled open the door and stepped outside.
“Sorry. Too long a day that ended badly.” I followed her to where we’d parked. Scanning the area, I spotted two men in uniform. Detective Barrett had been true to his word.
“You think Bob’s is still open?” Izzie popped open the car door.
“Seriously?” I slid into the passenger seat. “It’s nearly nine thirty. Your stomach is already queasy from all the excitement, and you want to add spicy barbecue to your digestive system? Unbelievable.” I gave her a disapproving tsk-tsk, along with a sharp head shake.
Her brow puckered. “Yeah, but dinner was awful. I hardly ate, and right now barbecue with a side of—” She wagged her finger. “You. You are so mean.”
I laughed. “I’ll take a sandwich with extra sauce and a double order of cheesy fries, please.”
Izzie started the engine and turned up the stereo. “Bob’s, here we come!”
I lowered the window and stuck out my head. The evening breeze off the lake cooled the air, and a soft scent of pine mixed slightly with the smoky odor drifting from Quaint Décor. We were both making an effort to not think about what had happened this evening and the reasons why. Sammy was out there, somewhere, and right now, the best we could do was pray she was safe and be grateful no one had been hurt.
* * *
“See you at dinner,” I called out to Mom from the foyer while juggling my bag and thermos of coffee. After waking up late this morning, I had opted for a shower and skipped breakfast, which was a plus since table conversation with Mom and Dad would involve reasons why I should reconsider my relationship with Ross and show him there were no hard feelings by doubling down on the invitation to dinner—he’d obviously made a great impression on Mom—or why Izzie and I should stay clear of Artisan Alley and the shop until the alleged arsonist was caught. Emphasis on the word alleged. Neither topic was appetizing. My plan to recover from the disturbing events of last night was to work, keep busy doing shop things, and avoid topics like Ross, arsonists, and murder.
“Wait!” Mom’s flowered skirt billowed as she ran down the hall, waving a plastic container. “I made blueberry muffins with walnuts. Take them, since you don’t want to have breakfast with us.” Her lips turned down.
“I want to, but I don’t have time to. Thanks.” I stood on tiptoes and planted a kiss on her cheek. “You’re the sweetest, kindest mom in all the world.”
She smoothed the hem of my shirt. “Chloe, please be careful. You know your dad and I don’t like to tell you girls what to do, but we worry.”
I shuffled my feet in reverse, putting my hand behind me to find the doorknob. “Yes, and you do a great job worrying. I mean, caring about us. Bye.” I finger waved, hopped outside, and closed the door. My chest collapsed as I released my breath, then hurried to my car. “That was close.”
Tires squealed as I sped down the drive and onto the road. Izzie had left before I got up and placed a sticky note on my bedroom door. Be back by ten or eleven. That was all. Six words of practically nothing. Cavemen could express themselves better. Still, I had made that promise to not be the nosy, patronizing big sister, and I wouldn’t break it. No matter how hard that promise was to keep. I triggered the windshield wipers to clear the fine mist. Clouds darkened the sky and predicted a gray and dreary day with intermittent showers. After a week of sun and heat, this would be a welcome reprieve.
The parking area, which was mostly grass and dirt, had turned into a muddy mess. Pulling my
jacket over the top of my head, I tiptoed around puddles and reached the front of the shop. Willow stood in the open doorway, arms and ankles crossed as she stared at the lake. Seeing me, she waved and retreated inside.
I clutched my gear to my chest and followed her. “Morning. Izzie won’t be in until ten or eleven, at the latest, so we’re on our own.” I dropped my bag in the closest chair, then sat on a stool to eat and drink. “You want one?” I mumbled and held up one of the three muffins Mom packed.
“No thanks. I had my morning dose of greasy food from Spill the Beans. Fried egg, undercooked bacon, and biscuits. Yum.” She ran her tongue along her lips, then laughed.
At once, I felt grateful for the doting parent who baked. “In case you change your mind, I’ll leave this on the counter.” I slid the container to the side and picked up my thermos to pour into my favorite mug. Etched on the front were the words “I paint. What’s your superpower?”
“I guess we could start with those emails. Do we know the schedule for events beyond next week?” As she sat next to me, Willow pulled up a window on the laptop.
“I have no idea. Izzie left before I got up this morning, and we didn’t get a chance to discuss it last night.” I sipped my coffee. “Maybe we start with something else on our list and wait until Izzie gets back to send the emails.”
Willow tapped the screen to close the window. “What about the flyers for Beach Fireworks and Paint Your Pet? I picked them up yesterday from the office supply store. All the information is posted on our website, but we should get these flyers out ASAP. After all, the fireworks party event is Monday, and Paint Your Pet is only a couple of days after that. Each shop owner in town could take a few and hand them out to customers. How’s that sound?”
“Love your enthusiasm.” I smiled.
“I’m volunteering.” She hopped off the stool. “I have an errand to run on the other side of town. I can start handing out the flyers there and work my way back here. Plus, this way I can get both tasks done.”
A Brush with Murder Page 14