Izzie anchored fists to hips. “Unbelievable.”
“No explanation, and this is the third time. What are you thinking?” I studied her face.
The creases in her forehead seemed permanent nowadays. “I’m thinking if she doesn’t become more dependable, I may have to fire her.”
“Let’s not fuss and fume over that decision. We have Paint Your Pet in a few hours. I’m excited. Aren’t you excited?” I put some bubble and bounce in my tone, hoping to cheer her mood.
Izzie shuffled pages in her agenda notebook. “I’m thrilled, feeling like a giddy schoolgirl. Loads and loads of excitement in me. Yes sir.” She snapped the notebook shut and smacked the counter with the flat of her hand. “How would you like to become partners? You and me. Paint with a View, owned by Izzie and Chloe Abbington. Sounds nice, right?”
I blinked. She blinked. My jaw dropped and hers set in a rigid line.
“Chloe? You’re not saying anything. Please talk to me.” Her voice quivered.
“Yeah, I um …” I wet my lips with the swipe of my tongue.
Partners. A new start. Moving forward. Something to be a part of. All of it sounded nice. So why couldn’t I answer?
Izzie picked up the agenda once more, flipping pages and scribbling on one or two. “Think about it. I know it’s a huge step.” She swallowed and clutched the notebook to her chest. “Just know I’d really love and feel so blessed if you said yes. Okay?”
“Okay. I will. I mean, I’ll think on it, long and hard and … long. Thank you.” I pointed at the agenda notebook. “Is there anything on that list you’d like me to take care of?”
“Oh boy, is there.” She ripped out a sheet of notebook paper and handed it to me. “Take this to Theo at the Gazette. See if she’ll place an ad in tomorrow’s paper. That will cover the rescheduled date for the lighthouse event and news about next week’s fireworks painting.”
“Sure. No problem.” I turned to walk out and then stopped. I swiveled around. “Really, thanks again.”
“I’d never ask if I thought you wouldn’t be a great partner, Chloe.” She grinned, then clapped her hands. “Now scoot. Theo will refuse to print the ad if it doesn’t reach her desk by noon. She’s a stickler for time.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m on it.” I saluted, along with a curtsey, then flew out the doorway.
“Goofball,” Izzie hollered.
“Nerd,” I called over my shoulder and skipped down the sidewalk.
The Gazette office building sat on the corner of Main Street and Seneca Drive, near the outskirts of town and next door to the courthouse, where the usual quiet of midmorning was disrupted by the pounding of hammers and high-pitched squealing of drills. The town building was getting a well-deserved facelift.
Paper in hand, I walked into the office. “Hey, Theo. Didn’t see you at the race.”
Theo wore her editor’s visor as she bent over the table, flipping through photos on her screen. “Hi, Squirt. Yeah, I was there. Not during but after. I heard about the scuffle between Jake and Timmy, so I raced right over to catch a few pics. You want to see?” She held up her digital camera.
“I’m good. I had front row seats to the live action.” On my way to the Gazette, Edna had ambushed me, nearly shouting how Timmy and Pickles earned second place. She also commented that it was a shame some people, like Penny, were such sore losers. If history repeated itself, the town would take sides and argue about the outcome until next year’s race came around.
I laid the paper Izzie had given me on the table. “Izzie wants to know if you have room to place an ad in tomorrow’s edition.”
“You got the money, I got the room.” Without taking her gaze off the laptop in front of her, she grabbed the ad and placed it in a tray.
I puzzled over the open screen as she scrolled through articles. The name Stone appeared in many of the titles. “Is that Grayson Stone?”
“Yep. He won the race, so I’m doing a feature on him in our ‘New in Town’ column. Did you know he’s stinking rich? Owns several businesses and is also famous for his art, and he plays the piano for the New York Symphony on occasion. Seems unfair for one person to have so many talents.”
“Yeah, totally unfair.” I leaned in to take a closer look.
The man was certainly photogenic. Add would-be fashion model to his résumé.
“Total philanthropist too. Of course, he can afford it.” She tapped the screen to enlarge a photo.
Several people were included in the shot and it appeared to be a social function, with all of them dressed in suits and fancy gowns. A man standing in front and a little to the side of Grayson held out some sort of award statue. He blocked the view of whoever stood on Grayson’s right so only an arm was visible. Slender like it should belong to a woman or child. I squinted at the blue marking on the shoulder, but, because of the grainy quality of the photo, I couldn’t make out any details. “‘The Stone family legacy lives on as Grayson Stone accepts an award for the generous donation to the Carnegie Art Institute at their annual gala.’” I read the caption, then backed away a couple of steps from the table. “He certainly is amazing.” All his accomplishments suddenly made me feel small and insignificant.
“Almost too perfect, which I’ve never cared for in a man, especially in my husband.”
My eyes widened. “I never knew you were married.”
“He passed many years ago. We were living in Jamestown at the time. Stephen was killed during a break-in.” Theo shook her head. “The fool thought he was some kind of hero. Took a baseball bat downstairs to confront the intruder. He never had a chance. People came from all over the country for his funeral. Afterward, I moved to Whisper Cove. I couldn’t stand the memories in that house. Did you know he started this paper?” She snorted and pointed at the floor. “He nearly ran it into the ground because the man thought he was always right. Never listened to me. Thank goodness I was able to turn it around.” She shrugged. “Anyway, as I was saying, imperfection makes a guy human, all humble and loveable. Puts you on level ground in a relationship, you know?” She pulled off the visor, and her mop of salt-and-pepper curls sprang out in all directions. “I never had that.”
“I’m sorry, but you still have plenty of time to find that guy. Right?” I grew anxious to change topics and move on to more urgent matters. “Hey, while I’m here, have you recalled anything else about those phone call complaints you received concerning Fiona? I mean, anyone else besides Gwen that raised your suspicions?” My own personal list of suspects needed a boost.
Snooping on Megan and Gwen had led me smack into a dead end, while Sammy had simply vanished. Until I had more to go on with any of it, I needed a new target to pursue.
“Can’t think of anyone.” She picked up the note she’d placed in the tray and read in silence. “I can do a quarter page ad and place it next to the ‘New in Town’ article so everyone will notice.”
“Izzie will appreciate it. Thanks, Theo. Please, if you think of someone in particular who had a grudge against Fiona, give me a call. It may sound crazy, but I can’t seem to let this alone.”
“I’m sure Detective Barrett has got it covered. Meantime, you have plenty to do helping your sister with the business, right? Might be wise to leave police business to the police and not take any risks. You have a great day, Squirt.” Theo shoved the visor back on her head and went back to her photo sorting.
Discouraged and totally put off by Theo’s attitude, I took the long way back to Artisan Alley to give myself time to think. Detective work wasn’t on my list of favorite things to do because I stunk at it. A dark cloud of negativity settled over me. Izzie still refused to share where she was the night of the murder. Sammy went from being a likely suspect to a victim when someone decided to set her shop on fire. Then there was me, the unfortunate soul who had discovered Fiona’s body, which made me an even more likely suspect, with time, place, and motive stamped on my forehead. To top it off, the shop had been vandalized, and we had been wa
rned to stop playing amateur sleuths.
As I neared Sail Shore Drive, I pulled over and let the car idle. I didn’t recall Mom or Dad telling me any stories about Theo’s husband and his tragic death. I had to wonder why. It appeared there were a lot of mysteries and secrets kept in Whisper Cove, and I had only touched the surface.
Chapter Sixteen
“You’re definitely in a good mood. Bouncing all over and whistling some tune I don’t recognize.” I dropped my bag on the counter and sat on a stool. “Which dwarf name should I call you? Happy? Sneezy? You are a little dopey, so maybe that one?” I grinned.
Izzie swatted me with a dust cloth. “You always tease at my expense. This time I don’t care. I am in too good of a mood.”
“Why’s that?” I placed my elbows on the counter and tipped my head.
“Grayson Stone’s bonfire party.” She sang out her words.
“I thought you despised Grayson Stone.”
“I don’t despise him, or maybe I do a little. Anyway, that’s not important.” She anchored her rear end on the stool opposite mine.
“It isn’t?”
“What’s important is who will be at the party.” She squealed and clapped her hands.
I groaned. “Okay, feeding me teeny tiny bits of information like this is annoying.”
“Sorry. You remember the big, important clients who hired me last year to do their portraits? You’re shaking your head. Okay, long story short. The Sterling brothers own several art galleries in the northeastern states. To make this story even better, I read in the news they’re interested in franchising a chain of painting event shops. Isn’t that fantastic?”
“I guess?” I lifted my shoulders.
“You are so dense sometimes.” She threw up her arms. “They’re invited to the bonfire. If we get Grayson to introduce us, maybe we can talk up Paint with a View. Who knows? They might offer to make us a part of their franchise.”
I fidgeted with my hands. “Is that something you want to do? Having an investor like these Sterling guys is a huge step.”
She licked her bottom lip. “I know. I’m only thinking about it. Besides, I’m sure none of what I said will happen at the party. Big dreams like that are one in a gazillion.”
“Oh, Izzie.” I leaned over and squeezed her arm. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine. Like I said, big dreams and all.” She sprang from her seat and twirled around. “I do have more important news. I called Hunter and gave him my alibi and the phone number of who to call to verify the story.”
“That’s great! Are you going to tell me too? I’ve been dying to know.”
“An art collector from Jamestown got in touch with me a couple of months ago. His name’s Martin Steele, and he’s very well known for his collection.”
“I’ve heard the name, even when I worked in Paris. Go on.”
“He wanted to hire me to paint a reproduction of The Night Watch.”
“Rembrandt. That’s a challenge.”
She reared back her head and scoffed. “You think I can’t do Rembrandt?”
“Well, it is The Night Watch.” I winced. “Sorry. Not here to judge.”
“Anyway, he needed the reproduction to put on display so he could sneak the real one out of his house and into his bank vault.”
I stood and walked behind the counter to grab a bottled water from the mini-fridge. “I don’t get it. Why buy a priceless painting if you’re not going to hang it on your wall and enjoy it?”
“He claims to have people in his life who have sticky fingers.” Izzie wiggled her brows.
I gasped and choked on my water. “You mean art thieves?”
“Con artists and all that crowd.” She nodded. “He’s paying me really well, Chloe. I mean more than the total sum of what I made in the last three years. That’ll buy a ton of paint supplies, for sure. Only thing was I had to promise I’d keep quiet about the whole matter until after I finished the painting and the real one was safely hidden.”
“Which happens to be today. Thank goodness. I can take that one off my list.”
“What list?” Izzie dusted the counter, tables, and chairs.
“Call it my dark cloud of negativity, but let’s not talk about that. What’s left to do before this evening?”
Izzie shoved a sticky note at me. “Three large coffees, one with cream, one with cream and sugar, and one black.”
“Seriously?” I flitted my gaze from the note to Izzie’s face. “I’m your errand boy, now?”
“Or girl, as the gender fits. Please, I need a caffeine fix, and you, by the looks of your antsy moves, need to exercise that energy.”
“You couldn’t tell me before I made the trip to the Gazette?” I muttered under my breath as my phone beeped with a message. “Coffee will have to wait a while. I need to stop by Brown’s Grocery first. Seems Mom needs a can of chicken broth ASAP and can’t leave whatever’s on the stove to go buy it. Of course, Dad is out sailing with Mr. Bixby.” I went outside. Reaching the alley road, I skidded to a halt. “Ross.” At once my eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you supposed to be chatting with a client on Skype or Zoom or something?”
“Obviously, you haven’t forgiven me.” Ross reached out to touch my arm, but I pulled away. “The client is one of our biggest. When he says jump, well, you know.”
I sighed. “I’m kind of in a hurry. If you don’t mind.” I swiped an arm to gesture for him to move.
He hopped to the side. “Oh, sure. I only came by to apologize and see if we could reschedule dinner?”
“You’ll have to speak to my mom about that, but I can pretty much guarantee she’ll say no.” I hustled along Whisper Lane while Ross hurried to keep up.
“I have a box of salt water taffy to sweeten the deal. I can be very persuasive.” He grinned and gave his voice the proper dose of confidence.
“I know. You’re a lawyer. Look.” I brought my feet to an abrupt stop, and he nearly toppled into me. “Do what you want. I don’t care.” I planted one fist on my hip. “One question. Why are you still in town? I’m sure Jake has fixed your car by now, and vacationing this long must get old and boring for such a big New York City attorney like you.” The snarky attitude reared its head.
He hugged the box of taffy to his chest and smirked. “If I left, you’d miss me. Admit it.”
“I would not.” I stuck out my lower lip. “Now, go away. I’m busy.” I marched ahead, and he didn’t follow. Whether that left me satisfied or disappointed, I couldn’t decide. I called out over my shoulder. “By the way, Mom hates saltwater taffy.” A smile tickled the corners of my mouth.
“What does she like then?”
“Caramel-filled chocolates.” I waved before crossing the street. I stepped inside the grocery store. In quick time, I purchased three cans of broth, just to be safe, then directed my steps down Sail Shore Drive.
Entering the house, I followed the sound of Mom humming an uplifting tune. The delicious aroma of chicken noodle soup cooking in the kitchen made my stomach growl. “Special delivery for Kate Abbington,” I called out and laughed.
Mom wiped her brow and left a smudge of flour on her cheek. “Thank goodness. Soup should always have plenty of broth. Silly me for not taking inventory before I started cooking.”
A flattened slab of dough covered the huge wooden board. “And homemade noodles?” My brow lifted. “You certainly are industrious today.” I set the cans on the table, then carried one to the electric can opener. Pouring the contents into the pot, I took a sniff. “Yum.”
“I was in the mood. That’s all.” She ladled some broth and took a sip. “Perfect.”
I sat at the table. “Say, Mom, why haven’t you ever mentioned Theo had a husband who died tragically?” After my visit at the Gazette and conversation with Theo, I was curious to know more.
“Oh boy. I haven’t given that awful story a thought in years. Murder isn’t exactly a conversation you want to have, is it? Plus, out of respect for Theo, I’ve
never felt comfortable talking about it.” She held a knife and cut strips of dough. She had no need for a fancy noodle maker, she’d once commented when Dad suggested buying one.
“Yes, she told me it was murder. Did the police ever catch the killer?”
“Sadly, no. I guess the Jamestown PD and the detective in charge never got any leads that helped. I heard he died recently. His name slips my mind. I’m sure Aunt Constance would know since the detective was born in Mayville. I remember my conversation with Theo, soon after the murder happened. She was angry about the case not being solved, but that didn’t stop her from moving on quickly.”
“How so?”
“She put all her time and energy into the Gazette. The business had been struggling before that.” Mom wiped her hands on her apron and sat down next to me. “I don’t think I could recover if your Dad passed. Especially if he went in such a horrible way.” Her voice quivered.
I patted her hand. “Don’t think such a thought. You and Dad will probably outlive all of us. I mean, just look at all the healthy food you eat.” I managed a smile. “You know, it’s strange when you think about it.”
“What’s that?” She returned to the stove and stirred the soup.
“You’re married to someone for years, and then he or she is murdered. How do you get beyond such a tragedy that easily?”
“I don’t know. I can’t imagine it’s easy. But I don’t know that she and her husband were all that happy. I guess she wanted to invest in real estate, but he refused. While he was still alive, I remember visiting the Gazette on a few occasions and catching them in a heated argument. Of course, all couples squabble.”
I frowned. After hearing the comments Theo had made earlier this morning, I agreed with Mom’s take on the relationship.
“You know, after her husband died, as soon as she could, Theo sold their house in Jamestown and moved to Whisper Cove. Rather than purchase a new place, she lived above the Gazette for a couple of years and used money from the house sale to buy business property along the lake. Got the real estate she wanted, after all.”
A Brush with Murder Page 20