“They don’t belong to Bennett or to Cynthia or to anyone who works here,” Joe continued. “And we’re not finding a match in any database.”
“And what can I do?” She tried not to sound excited but could almost hear her voice shaking.
“Well, so far people who are connected to this case seem to keep showing up here. It could be that you’re right and that Misty is somehow tied up in this. Or maybe you’re tied up in this in a way we don’t understand.”
“I don’t think so,” Jesse protested. “I haven’t been involved with Ronnie in years.”
“Either way, at the moment your tearoom is looking like ground zero, so keep your eyes open. If those girls have found pictures of anyone else besides Thomas Stanton, take a look at them. And if you see anyone else around here who’s linked in any way to this case, let me know.”
“We’re closed tomorrow,” she reminded him. And since they were already closed for today, having anybody show up didn’t seem promising.
“So far, your being closed hasn’t stopped anyone from just walking right on in,” Joe said. “So I repeat, stay on your toes. And you might warn Lindsey, too, just in case someone else comes snooping around the alley behind her apartment.” His gaze sharpened and Jesse felt pinned to an imaginary board. “That was Stanton in the alley this morning, wasn’t it?”
Jesse nodded. “He said he got here when the police were swarming all over the place, so that would fit.”
“I’ll ask him about that. If he already knew where Cynthia had left her car, that would indicate he was here earlier than he admits.”
“Yeah, it would, wouldn’t it?”
Joe put his hand under her chin and tipped her head up. “Be safe, Jesse.”
Before she could move, he leaned closer and touched his lips to hers in a feather-light caress that gradually deepened. She stepped closer, her body fitting into the arc of his, and his arm swept around her waist drawing her nearer still. They stayed like that for far longer than was wise, their bodies touching, their arms embracing, their lips welded in a kiss that seemed to go on forever.
When he finally released her and moved away, Jesse felt as if she might topple over for a brief instant. Then her legs remembered how to stand, and her head stopped spinning.
“I have got to stop doing that,” he said, “or everybody in town’s going to know what’s going on before we’ve even figured it out for ourselves.”
“What a shame,” Jesse murmured. “Seemed like we were starting to get really good at it.”
“Well, not completely,” he added with the slow, crooked grin that was beginning to make her tingle when she saw it. “Just when we’re in public. Or in your garden in full view of the street.”
“So then, in private’s okay?”
“In private is more than okay,” he agreed. He took a step closer, then stopped, threw back his head and sighed.
“Good catch.” A smiled danced at the corners of Jesse’s mouth as she took a backward step. “’Til later.”
“Keep your eyes open,” he warned.
“Yes, sir, Sheriff Tyler, sir.” She put her hand to her brow and gave him a teasing salute.
“Seriously, Jesse. I mean it.”
Her steps retreated in a slow, backwards dance. “Don’t worry,” she promised with a smile. “I’m very serious.”
“Call me if you hear anything. And don’t go anywhere alone.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do not salute,” he ordered.
She laughed, turned and ran the rest of the way to the house. When she reached the porch and looked back, he was gone. Jesse stifled the sigh that bubbled inside her and sincerely hoped he wouldn’t be too terribly angry when he found out she was pursuing this on her own. Very carefully, of course.
Chapter Nineteen
Once inside, Jesse found SueAnn sitting on her stool at the bar, wearing a smug look on her face as she patiently waited. Jesse took the stool Misty had occupied earlier.
“Where’s Misty?” she asked as her gaze wandered to the laptop whose screen was irritatingly dark, revealing nothing.
“Sophia just chased her upstairs.”
Jesse glanced behind her to the tearoom’s entrance and the foyer beyond. “Think she’ll be back down?”
“Not if Sophia has anything to say about it. Why do you keep looking around?”
Jesse started to shrug, felt it turning into a shudder and stopped herself in mid-motion. “I don’t know exactly. It’s like this place has ears right now.”
SueAnn laughed, hopped off her stool and crossed the room to close the open door. “There,” she said, reseating herself. “And I know the door to the pantry is closed because I checked it when Sophia and Misty left. You’re not the only one who’s a little creeped out right now. So, are you ready for show and tell?”
“I can’t wait.”
SueAnn logged back in, and several screens later, she opened what looked like a newspaper article. “This picture isn’t too great. There are others that are better, but this article describes who’s who at this shindig.” She enlarged the print and guided the cursor down the page at a dizzying pace.
“I can’t read that fast,” Jesse said.
“This part is just ya-da-ya-da. Okay, here.” The cursor stopped and the newspaper column zoomed in. “Read this paragraph. Well, scan it anyway,” SueAnn urged with the patience of a puppy yearning to run free.
Jesse ran her gaze over the story in what was clearly the society section of the paper, showcasing a “gala evening” at the Stanton Gallery of Fine Art. The event was to celebrate the opening of an exhibit “featuring the art of none other than Cynthia Stanton herself, owner of the posh gallery. The glittering evening was well attended by a host of friends, associates and well-known patrons of the arts all eager for the long awaited unveiling of the new exhibit.”
This was followed by a list of names, only a few of which were familiar and one of whom was “entrepreneur Ronald Bennett, escorting Thea Furness, darling of Austin and L.A. society.” Even if the Furness name weren’t familiar to Jesse, she would still know the society darling was rich and connected, just the kind Ronnie courted as an investor.
Oscar Champion was there as well, listed among the patrons of the arts. Maurice Singleton, described by Misty as a business friend of Ronnie’s was among the attendees, along with his wife, another local society darling. No mention of Thomas Stanton as an artist, associate or otherwise.
“Were any of these people familiar to Misty?” Jesse asked. “Other than the obvious ones?”
“She said her father dated the Furness woman briefly. Misty didn’t seem to like her much and said the breakup wasn’t on good terms. She’s met Maurice Singleton and his wife a couple of times and thought Buffy Singleton seemed a little too friendly to her father when her husband wasn’t looking. And then, of course, there’s Oscar Champion. Misty’s never met him in person, but… Well, I’ll let you look at the pictures.”
SueAnn scrolled down and Jesse got her first clear look at Cynthia in her dramatic guise of avant-garde gallery owner. With flaming red lipstick and chin-length, coal black hair framing her alabaster skin, she was very different from her current incarnation but just as attention grabbing. Her skintight dress was navy blue and full length with a slit that ended halfway up her thigh. It was sleeveless and off the shoulder and looked much more appropriate to the event than her skintight mini had seemed on the quiet streets of Myrtle Grove.
In picture after picture Cynthia appeared against the background of what was apparently her new art exhibit—the paintings that Misty had described as looking like a seven-year-old had done them. Jesse recognized the style as primitive with a nod to graphic art, sort like Grandma Moses collided with Marvel Comics and produced a hybrid in bold slashes of primary color.
Vibrant and energetic, they retained a rustic simplicity, and she could see their appeal. Looking at his art, she suddenly hoped that Tommy Stanton wasn’t their killer. Whatev
er his flaws as a human being, he deserved the right to pursue this unique and almost disturbing talent.
“Well?” SueAnn asked, jarring Jesse back to the business at hand.
“Well what?”
“Are you looking at the people?”
“No. I was looking at the paintings.”
“Well, stop it and look at the people,” SueAnn insisted.
“Why don’t you just show me what I’m supposed to be seeing?”
SueAnn huffed and rolled her eyes. “No. This is an experiment,” she said once she was done expressing her impatience.
Jesse suppressed a proud smile at the girl’s emerging adulthood, bossy though it might be, and obediently turned her attention back to the photos. In the first one a pudgy, balding man of unimpressive stature stood next to Cynthia. He was turned slightly toward her in conversation. The photo provided an excellent view of the art work in the background, but the features of the man identified as Oscar Champion were an indistinct blur.
In the next picture Cynthia was next to Ronnie, who staring down at her with obvious interest while her attention was focused on the woman at his side, Thea of the old money wealth. And a possible patron for an emerging art gallery.
“This must be when they first met,” Jesse said.
“About eighteen months ago,” SueAnn agreed. “Misty said things moved pretty quickly between them.”
Jesse dragged her gaze on down the page to other pictures. Cynthia in conversation with a man identified as Maurice Singleton. His wife Buffy was by his side and staring past Cynthia to where Ronnie stood still watching Cynthia while his date Thea gazed off into the distance looking bored. Jesse was getting a pretty good idea of why Ronnie’s relationship with Thea Furness didn’t end well.
There were more photos of Cynthia with other people whose names meant nothing but were a good indication of her ability to mingle. The balding man with the paunch appeared repeatedly, unidentified, standing at the edges of groupings, never looking directly at the camera. In one final photo, almost as if by accident, the camera caught Oscar Champion standing alone staring straight ahead while all around him people stood, drinks in hand, groups lost in conversation.
Jesse frowned at the picture. He was the kind of man you’d pass on the street and never notice. There was no reason he should look familiar. None at all. So why was she so sure she’d seen him before?
Chapter Twenty
SueAnn leaned in, her shoulder pressing against Jesse’s. “Say it.”
“Say what?”
“What you’re thinking,” SueAnn urged. “Say it.”
“It’s just a feeling. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Say it!”
“Okay,” Jesse said. “He looks familiar. There. Are you satisfied?”
“Yes!” SueAnn hugged her and gave her a congratulatory pat. “Yes!”
“I don’t get it.” Jesse really hated feeling like the slow student in the group. She peered at the picture again. The man continued to look like someone she could have passed on any street.
“He was in here!”
“Here?” Jesse asked before SueAnn could say another word. She pointed toward the counter in front of her. “Here?”
“Just listen.” SueAnn placed her hand on Jesse’s arm. “At first Misty thought she must have recognized him from Austin. But then Sophia said he looked familiar to her, too. And then when I got to thinking about it, I remembered him.”
“Oscar Champion?” Jesse asked, interrupting again.
“Listen,” SueAnn insisted. “He came in when we were really busy this morning, and he took that little table in the corner.” She turned and pointed to a two-person table next to a window in the front corner. “He sat there drinking coffee for at least an hour and then slipped out right after that female deputy came and got you. Didn’t ask for his ticket or anything. Just put a twenty on the table and left.” The girl leaned closer. “A twenty. For coffee.”
“Oscar Champion was in here this morning?” Jesse repeated in disbelief. “While I was here?”
SueAnn spread her hands. “We didn’t know what he looked like then. And if you’d asked me to describe his face after he left, I couldn’t have done it. It wasn’t until I saw his picture that I even membered him.”
“But that’s just crazy,” Jesse insisted. It still made no sense for him to be in Myrtle Grove.
SueAnn nodded. “Yeah, I know. Who leaves a twenty for a cup of coffee if you don’t want to be remembered?”
“Why would he be here? Ronnie wanted to sell his part of the gallery back to him, but Myrtle Grove’s a long way from Austin.”
SueAnn nodded again. “Yeah, Misty thought it was pretty strange.”
“It doesn’t make sense. Here? Now?” Jesse asked, still talking mainly to herself.
“I know!” SueAnn agreed. Her face beamed with happy discovery. “Crazy, huh?” Then she winked. “But I bet the sheriff would love to know about it.”
“Oh, yeah.” Jesse frowned. “Champion’s Cynthia’s partner. If anybody knew he was here, it would be her. She certainly didn’t mention it when they questioned her.”
“Misty waited on him.” SueAnn glanced toward the closed entrance to the tearoom, then asked in a hushed voice, “You don’t suppose she’s in any danger, do you, Jesse?”
“I honestly don’t know, SueAnn. I sure hope not.”
“I was just wondering because whatever her father owned is hers now, right? Including his part of that gallery.”
Jesse frowned again. She hadn’t thought about that. “Yeah,” she said slowly, “it’s all hers. And it does seem like anyone who has anything to do with that gallery is showing up here, one by one.”
SueAnn put her elbows on the counter and leaned her chin on her fists, staring into the empty space in front of her. “You don’t suppose those paintings are actually worth anything, do you?”
“You mean the ones Tommy Stanton painted that Cynthia’s been passing off as hers?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think so. I mean, she owns the gallery but she’s not exactly a name in the art world. Neither is he, and a painting is only worth as much as the artist who painted it.”
The door from the foyer opened, and both women whirled to see who had entered. As Sophia slipped into the room and pulled the door closed behind her, Jesse and SueAnn both let out a sigh of relief.
“You two seem a little jumpy,” Sophia said. “Or guilty.”
“I was showing her the pictures of our latest visitor,” SueAnn explained. “We seem to be finding more and more suspects and not a single motive.” She looked toward Jesse. “Does that about sum it up?”
“Unfortunately,” Jesse agreed, then returned her attention to her mother. “Is Misty asleep finally?”
“I checked on her just before I came down. I didn’t know someone that young could snore that loud.”
“She’s exhausted,” Jesse said.
“I know. Poor little mite.” Sophia strolled over to the counter and settled onto the remaining stool. “I expected you two to have this all figured out by now.”
“I wish,” SueAnn said.
“My only consolation is that the police seem to be as baffled as we are,” Jesse added.
“If Maurice Singleton ever noticed his wife coming onto Ronnie, it had to have put a strain on their business relationship,” Sophia offered. “Of course, that may have cooled down since Ronnie and Cynthia got serious.”
“Well, Ronnie had his faults,” Jesse said, “but I’ve never known him to fool around with a married woman. Or to put a woman ahead of a business deal, for that matter.”
“For a minute there, it almost sounded like you were headed toward a compliment, dear. But you managed to avoid it nicely.”
“Just speaking the truth. Ronnie never cared a fig about principle, but I don’t think he’d risk having an affair with the wife of a business associate.”
“Misty didn’t think he was attracted to her
,” SueAnn volunteered. “She said he seemed to be avoiding the Singletons as a couple, and that he and Mr. Singleton weren’t doing as many deals together lately.”
“Really?” Jesse closed the laptop. “Wonder what caused that. But no matter what was going on in Ronnie’s business life, unless the person happens to be here in Myrtle Grove, right now, it doesn’t matter.”
“There are three here that we know of,” Sophia said. “Maybe there are more.”
“Or maybe Oscar and Cynthia traveled together,” SueAnn suggested.
Jesse remembered Cynthia’s reaction to his description when Joe was questioning her. The way she had tensed. “I don’t think so. She seemed afraid of him when the sheriff mentioned him. Or at least uncomfortable at the thought of him.”
“Maybe something happened to sour their partnership,” Sophia offered. “And it’s not just that he showed up here, it’s that he seems to be sneaking around. He was obviously not wanting us to notice him.”
“And he wasn’t here for the coffee,” SueAnn said. “He stopped letting me refill his cup after the third time.”
“Can you blame him?” Jesse asked. “How much coffee can a person drink?”
“A lot more than that, if half our customers are any indication,” SueAnn assured her. “Especially if they’re having dessert.”
“Oh, well, sure. Dessert.”
“Ladies,” Sophia interrupted, “I’m afraid we’re getting off track.” She glanced at her watch. “And I need to leave shortly to pick up Peg Bennett. Her plane lands in a couple of hours, and I like to be early.”
“What about Misty?” SueAnn asked. “She just fell asleep.”
“I’m not going to bother her,” Sophia said. “With any luck, I’ll have her grandmother back here before Misty ever wakes up. But I think someone needs to stay here with her.”
Sophia looked from SueAnn to Jesse, who looked from Sophia to SueAnn with dawning consternation.
It had never occurred to Jesse that she wouldn’t be going with her mother to the airport to pick up Peg Bennett. After all, the woman had once been her future mother-in-law. They had been friends, and Peg had understood and supported Jesse in her final decision to call off the engagement.
A Misty Morning Murder (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 4) Page 15