No one had ever asked about the aftermath for her.
She studied him. “Why did you ask that?”
His eyebrows shot up. “I guess it’s the next logical question. The person who came to you in the hospital should be next of kin. I mean, you’ve mentioned that he was your mentor with the pottery, but I don’t think I realized how far back your relationship went.”
She frowned, unsure of his line of thinking. “Jake wasn’t my uncle at the time. Now he is.”
It was Mason’s turn to look confused. He lowered his head and peered at her through his eyelashes. “Say that again.”
Shaking her head, Karen suppressed a grin. “Jake is my uncle now because he married my aunt. Back then, they were still dating.” Her mouth twisted. “My family was odd during that time. Aunt Evie wasn’t sure she wanted to marry an artist, but Jake eventually persuaded her. Shane, my cousin, had it pretty rough, especially before Jake came along. Despite the family money, I’ve heard that my grandmother Elizabeth hated him, made him work for every reward. Jake helped smooth the tension in the family, but Shane left as soon as he could, joined the army and got out. He’s in real estate now. Aunt Evie married pretty young the first time, but her first husband never came back from Vietnam. I guess that’s a bit complex.”
“Not if you’re from the South,” he muttered. “So Jake did wind up raising you?”
“And teaching me pottery—”
“Can you two come with me?”
Karen jumped, twisting to stare at Tyler, who stood behind her chair. Neither of them had heard him come in.
“Now?” Mason asked.
The solemn look didn’t leave Tyler’s face. “Now. Right now.”
Karen glanced at Mason, but he didn’t hesitate. He stood, dropped a twenty on the table and waved his thanks at Laurie. They followed Tyler onto the sidewalk, where he paused only briefly, turning them north toward the tiny arts district of Mercer, speaking as he picked up speed. “Someone broke in to Jane’s gallery and destroyed every piece you had on display.”
Jane Wilson’s Heart’s Art Gallery stood on the corner of Main Street and Fourth, the best location possible, just at the entrance to the Fourth Street Arts Arcade. The rapid growth of Mercer’s arts community in the seventies and eighties had led to an accompanying expansion of tourists to downtown, especially in the summer. The town council had designated Fourth Street as a pedestrian area, closing three blocks of it to motor traffic and planting trees down the middle. Jane’s gallery, specializing in folk art of the area, had flourished, and she’d become one of Karen’s main vendors—and a close friend.
The corner location meant windows on two sides of the shop, giving ample display and natural light for her wares. Now, one of those windows lay shattered in the street, and Jane was visible through the broken pane, shuddering as she hugged herself. Seeing her from half a block away, Karen called her name and ran to her, engulfing her in a hug as Jane collapsed against her. Her friend’s tears soaked her shirt, and Karen stroked her back. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Jane said, her voice clogged. “It was like this when I came to open this morning.”
Karen heard Mason and Tyler approach from behind.
“What was taken?” Mason asked.
Jane’s head snapped up. “Nothing!” She motioned wildly at the gallery. “They did all this and took nothing! All they did was break the window and Karen’s pieces. I can understand stealing them, but to just destroy them?” Jane’s voice bordered on hysterical. “It makes no sense!”
Mason looked from the window to Tyler. “Did you find another note?”
Karen stared at him, startled that his mind would go toward the investigation so quickly, then at Tyler, who said flatly, “Yes. Same message. I bagged it for the lab in New York.”
Jane stepped back, looking at all of them. “How did you know?”
Mason moved closer to Tyler. “Why was the window broken from the inside? Just maliciousness?”
Tyler shook his head, then squatted next to the broken glass, pulling a pen from his pocket. Mason joined him as the police chief moved two of the shards slightly, pushing them closer together. “It was shot from inside, here. We found the bullet in the wall across the street. But the bullet wasn’t just to shatter the glass. The shot was to make a point.” He made a circling motion with the pen. “See what’s there?”
Karen stepped closer, feeling Jane move in behind her. The window had once proudly announced the store as the Heart’s Art Gallery in broad curlicue letters. A few months ago, Jane had brought in a painter to add the names of the best-known artists she exhibited. The bullet had clearly pierced the R in Karen.
Jane drew in a quick breath, and Karen closed her eyes, a wave of nausea sweeping over her. Who would hate her this much?
Mason muttered the same thing he had earlier at Laurie’s. This time it was clearly French and angrier than before.
Karen’s eyes snapped open and she scowled. “What?”
Tyler looked at Mason in surprise, then said softly, “Agreed, although she’d never let you get away with it.”
Mason’s eyebrows shot up, and Tyler shrugged. “I have relatives in Quebec.”
“What did you say?” Karen repeated to Mason.
Tyler stood up, inhaling deeply. “Never mind.” He looked at Jane. “I’ll leave one of the boys on duty here, so nothing walks off. I need all of you to come back to the office with me.” He motioned in the general direction of the police station, then moved away.
Karen took Jane’s arm and turned to follow Tyler, glancing once over her shoulder at Mason, who was still squatted down next to the plate glass on the ground, staring at it. He opened and closed one fist as if trying to get a hold of something, then beat it against his thigh as he stood.
As if this were his own battle. The thought stilled Karen’s rollicking emotions for a moment. Despite the bidding battle he’d had with Luke Knowles, this wasn’t truly his fight. This morning, she’d been glad for his friendship, for his support, but now he seemed to have taken the struggle on as his own. She glanced at him again. He’d stopped and his face was turned up toward the sky, his eyes closed.
Is he praying? They had never discussed faith at all. Karen knew he respected hers from the way he reacted when he saw her praying or making time for church activities. But he’d never volunteered anything about his own faith. Do you believe?
Jane sniffed, and Karen looked back at her friend, gripping her arm a bit tighter. “Are you okay?”
The young gallery owner shook her head. “I feel…violated.” She shivered. “I don’t know what to do.”
Tyler paused and looked back at her. “You have been violated. Most robbery victims feel that way. Plus, you’ve had things you love destroyed. But you’ll have to get back on the horse as soon as you can. I’ll get the boys to finish up the evidence work today, so you can start repairs. And I have someone you should talk to. Someone who’s been through it.”
Jane’s eyebrows met, her face reddening. “It can’t be that easy.”
Tyler shook his head. “It’s not. Didn’t say it was. It’s just something you’ll have to do. If you don’t, it’ll be worse.”
The desire to help her friend surged through Karen. “I’ll make it up. I’ll make all new pieces for you. Something different.” She smiled weakly. “Maybe more appealing to the tourists.”
Jane’s mouth twisted. “Don’t you dare make something different,” she said, her eyes brightening. “I have enough tourists, thank you very much.” The words made both of them grin, and Jane took a deep breath. She gave Karen’s arm a quick squeeze. “Thank you. It’ll help not having to look at the empty spots.”
They paused as Tyler opened the door to the station and held it for them. He waited as Mason ran to catch up, darting in after the women. Peg Madison stepped from behind the front desk and wrapped her arms around Karen and Jane in a tight, motherly hug. “Oh, girls! I’m so sorry!”
&
nbsp; Karen adored Peg’s hugs. The fiftyish redhead stood almost as tall as her son, and her plush body always sank against the “huggee” like a firm pillow. Karen closed her eyes and took comfort in the embrace, resting her head for a moment against Peg’s strong shoulder and inhaling Peg’s usual scent of freshly baked bread and the White Shoulders perfume she’d been wearing for the past thirty years. When they released each other, Peg wiped away a tear, then turned her smile on the young man behind them.
“You’re Mason.” She stepped between Karen and Jane and held out her hand. “I’m Margaret Madison. Peg to everyone but my mother. I can’t believe you’ve been in town this long and I’ve not met you.”
“Yes, ma’am, neither can I.” He took her hand. “I’ve been in and out of town a lot, but I’ve heard so much about you that I knew we had to meet.”
Peg moved closer to him, still holding on to his hand. “All good, I hope,” she whispered conspiratorially. Two fingers twisted a lock of hair near her temple.
His smile reflected the conspiracy. “Only the things that can be repeated in public.”
Jane leaned toward Karen and whispered, “So does Mason flirt with everyone?”
Peg’s eyes flashed at her as she attempted to pull her hand back. “We are not flirting. I’m twice his age.”
Mason held firmly to Peg’s hand. “I can assure you of two things, Miss Peg. One, you are most definitely not twice my age. Two, when Southern boys flirt, age is irrelevant. All that matters is the charm and loveliness of the lady.”
Peg cleared her throat as a blush crept up her cheeks, and she eased her hand out of his grip. She returned to her desk as her son watched, arms crossed. She stared back at him. “I assume you’re going to take their statements? I set up the tape recorder.”
Tyler hesitated a moment, then relented. “Thank you.” He led them to his office, a utilitarian space furnished with a well-used metal desk, a filing cabinet and three straight chairs, in addition to his own desk chair. As they sat, he motioned at Mason. “How do you do that so smoothly? I’d trip over my own manners if I tried to speak to a woman like that.”
The Louisiana boy shrugged. “Not sure. Mama always said you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, and I’ve just found most folks like it when you’re nice to them. Guess that’s something you don’t always have the liberty to do.”
Tyler shook his head. “Not in this line of work, no.” He dug a tape out of his desk, checked to make sure it was rewound, and popped it into the player. He turned it toward them, and nodded again at Mason. “We’re not New York up here. None of the flashy stuff you see on television. Just two computers in the whole building, although we do have access to all the national databases. Mostly it’s just us and our brains. It gets the job done.”
He paused, glancing at Karen. “In a minute, I’m going to separate you in order to ask questions about this morning, but I wanted to say a few things first. I thought the worst part of this would be confined to New York, but it’s come home to roost, and I don’t want to get caught napping again. I want you to think carefully about the past couple of days, as well as about what you’ve thought or felt since this started happening. Once the interviews start, leave nothing out, no matter how irrelevant you think it may be. Even the smallest item, especially when combined with other facts, may be significant. Okay?”
Karen sat back in her chair, her stomach tensing again. She avoided Mason’s point-blank stare as she spoke. “What does how we think have to do with this?”
Tyler leaned back in his chair. “People don’t always realize what they know. What I find is often put together from a dozen tidbits from half a dozen sources. Any other questions?”
Jane’s black eyes widened, a stark contrast to her pale skin. “Tyler, the shop has been really busy the last two days. Spring brings in the tourists as well as the regulars. Two-dozen folks, maybe more. Laurie came over to talk about some new prints for the café.” She glanced at Karen. “Your uncle Jake and aunt Evie were in, buying something for Shane’s birthday.”
“My cousin,” Karen said to Mason.
“I remember. Bald guy. Tanning-bed brown. Big teeth. Keeps popping in for coffee when you’re trying to work.”
Jane interrupted. “Do you really want to know about everyone who came in the shop?”
Tyler looked from Karen and Mason to Jane. “Jane, we’ll talk in another—”
Jane plunged ahead. “They were just normal folks. I mean, as normal as tourists get, anyway.” She shrugged. “Most of them are a little whacked. Too much driving. One couple wanted to know if I had any replicas of Grandfather Mountain, and they didn’t take kindly to being told that Grandfather Mountain was in North Carolina and that our Old Man in the Mountain had collapsed in 2003. They did buy a quilt.”
“Jane…”
“Anyone buy something of Karen’s?” Mason asked.
Jane shook her head. “Not yesterday. Sold one last week, but that was to a guy from Miami who comes up here every spring looking for unusual local stuff.” She turned to Karen. “You know him. Tall surfer-looking dude, but kinda old. Eddie something. I’ve spent most of the morning thinking about that auction. How soon can you get those replacements made?”
“That might not be a good idea right now.” Tyler leaned forward. “Remember me? I need to talk to you individually. I’m supposed to be in charge here.”
“Right. Murder case,” Mason blurted.
Jane sat forward, her eyes sharp, her confusion bouncing from Tyler to Mason, whose face reddened as he looked down.
“What murder?” she asked. “What’s going on?”
Tyler sighed and explained about Luke Knowles. Jane’s shoulders dropped even more as she nodded. “So that’s how you knew there’d be a note.”
“And why it’s important for me to know if you noticed anything peculiar about your customers. While this doesn’t have to be someone who knows Karen personally or stays in this area, we shouldn’t rule that out, either.” He turned to Karen and Mason. “Now. I need you to wait with Peg while I finish with Jane.” Tyler cleared his throat, his eyes gentle. “Karen, I know this whole thing might bring up some…unfortunate memories.”
In that moment, Karen could have hugged Mercer’s young police chief. He might not be the best cop in the world, but he certainly understood his town’s residents. She sighed, resigned that her past was going to be a part of this investigation. And that meant that she’d have to tell him about the dream. But that was all right. If anyone in Mercer was going to think she had lost her mind, she’d rather it be Tyler.
Karen shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I know it’s your job to look at every angle.”
The door popped open and Peg stepped in, not waiting for her son to acknowledge her. “I just dispatched two of our officers to Karen’s. Her alarm is going off.”
FOUR
A roller coaster, Mason thought. This had turned into an out-of-control roller coaster. The image of such a ride, the cars bolting wildly around curves and steep hilly tracks, stuck in Mason’s head as Tyler’s police cruiser bounced through the short drive to Karen’s hillside home. He’d had such car rides before, in other countries with other drivers, but never with this sense of urgency. He and Karen sat in the back, Karen wedged into one corner, her expression bounding from fear to confusion and back again. He reached out to touch her arm. “What are you thinking?” He grimaced immediately, scolding himself for voicing such a stupid question.
The look she gave him, however, held no derision, nor did her response fold around the “Why me?” attitude he half expected from someone going through such persecution.
“I just don’t want anyone else to get hurt. First Luke Knowles, now Jane.”
“Jane’s not—”
Her anguish flooded out. “Her shop is her life, Mason! This hurts her business, her sense of security. She’ll be afraid in her own shop!” Karen’s voice rose rapidly, ending in a sound close to a sob. “It’s clear now that t
his isn’t isolated—that it’s me, that he won’t stop. And I don’t know what he wants!”
Tyler glanced in the rearview mirror. “He wants you to stop making pottery.”
Karen slumped. “Yes, I’m sure Laurie could use another waitress. Maybe I could move back in with Aunt Evie and become dependent on others to support me.”
Mason drew back, watching her, finally realizing that this cut much deeper than just her work. This was a cut to her soul, her very being. An attack on who she was and the life she’d chosen.
Tyler glanced in the mirror again. “With their resources, I’m sure New York will find out who this is, but we’re trying, too.”
Karen’s chin tipped up, her jaw firm. “And we need to find out why.”
Mason glanced from the mirror to the girl and back. Tyler remained silent, his gaze flat and distant as he braked and threw the shift lever into Park.
One of Tyler’s officers had already secured the house and waited for them near the front door, which stood open but intact.
The officer noticed Karen’s glazed stare. “We came out this way, Ms. O’Neill,” he said, looking from her to Tyler. “They went in and out through the basement. Touched nothing upstairs, as far as we can tell, although we’ve started to fingerprint the doors and windows.”
“So the damage is all downstairs?” Tyler asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Where’s Lacey?” Karen blurted as she lunged for the house.
The officer blocked her path. “That’s the cat?” At Karen’s nod, he continued. “We found her hiding upstairs, scared out of her wits. Almost took one of Sergeant Davis’s fingers off. He took her to the vet, made sure she was okay.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, backing away. Without warning, she turned and started down the stone path that led around the house.
The Face of Deceit Page 5