Luke paused and shook his head, deep in thought. “He was either upset about the way Monday went, or it hit him hard that he couldn’t remember it. Whichever it was, he didn’t leave the house on Tuesday. If I’d stayed with him after the funeral on Wednesday like I should have, he’d still be here. You know everything after that. Probably more than you want to know.” He sat back in his chair and smiled at me ruefully.
“Actually, I don’t know nearly enough, and I wish I knew more,” I said. Luke looked deep in thought again. “You’re thinking that maybe there really were two strange men in the kitchen with Eliza that day, aren’t you?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” Luke answered. “But I guess we should start with figuring out why someone would beat up and kill a nice old lady like Ms. Eliza in the first place? Then, what made them come after Barney?”
We stepped out of the building into the bright morning sun and headed for the small grocery store Luke had found earlier. We decided to get a few groceries first, go drop them back at the apartment, and then find some clothes stores. When we entered the store we each picked up a carry basket and headed down the nearest aisle. We went up and down the aisles picking out a few quick, easy-to-prepare things. I liked this little store. No booming voice over the loud speaker, no dodging other people’s carts, no searching in vain for a short checkout line. It was peaceful.
After we dropped our groceries back at Serge’s apartment, we hit the streets again in search of clothes. I found some jeans, sneakers, and t-shirts in one shop. Then I lucked out and found sandals and underwear in a great little boutique.
It was almost one in the afternoon when we popped back to Serge’s with my purchases, and I was starving. “I’m thinking I want to make something healthy for lunch. You know, stress tends to lower your immune system, and you don’t want to get sick,” I yelled to Luke, since I was in the kitchen and he was in the living room on the laptop.
“Sure, that works for me,” he agreed. “Uh, what are we having for lunch?”
Luke came into the kitchen with a big, worried smile on his face. It made me wonder if he was afraid I was going to feed him some mock food that wasn’t real. That wasn’t what I meant.
“I was thinking chili dogs and frozen fries,” I explained. “I think comfort food and healthy is a good combination.”
For some reason, Luke looked like he was trying not to laugh. Then he asked, “So tell me, do you and CeCe eat healthy like this a lot?”
I told him we did. He smiled even bigger and nodded.
“That sounds great. I’ll be on the computer,” and with that he left the room.
I don’t get what was so funny.
In the living room (since it’s the only room where the Wi-Fi works), Luke started explaining as he searched on the computer, “I want to see if it looks like anything unusual was going on with Uncle Barney’s tug boat company before or after the sale, or if there was anything strange about the people who bought it. Let me know if you need any help.”
When I finished microwaving the chili and dogs, I bunned them, put them on the square plates I found in the cabinet and scooped french fries fresh from the oven. I announced lunch was being served in the east wing, so Luke put the laptop aside and walked the eight steps to the dining table.
As Luke sat down at the small table, I asked if he’d had any luck.
“None,” he replied. “Of course, it might help if I had some idea as to what I’m looking for. Let’s just say nothing jumped out at me screaming motive for murder.”
I thought for a minute while I chewed. “Let’s go back to Eliza. What do we know about any business dealings she might have had?”
“That’s easy enough – nothing. As far as I know from what Uncle Barney said about her, she retired almost 20 years ago. The only reason I know that is because Uncle Barney mentioned she’d been giving him tips on adjusting to retirement for the last few months since he sold his business.”
“It’s kind of a stretch to imagine her murder had any connection to something that happened 20 or more years ago. I suppose anything’s possible, though,” I allowed. After pondering Eliza a little longer, I asked, “Do you think if Barney saw the two men at Eliza’s before that day he would have recognized them? I mean, I don’t run in the same social circles as Barney so I wouldn’t know. What if there are some guys in town nicknamed Hoss and Little Joe, and Barney saw them at Eliza’s house?” I noticed the skeptical look that took over Luke’s face and added, “Or maybe not.”
Luke put down the soda he was drinking to wash down the last of his lunch. “Look, I don’t want to discourage any of your theories at this point,” he began. “Especially since I have so few of my own. I’m also at a loss as to how Barney’s dementia was affecting his perception. I don’t know if he would have hallucinated people at this stage. As far as I know, he wasn’t hallucinating, but what if that was something new going on with him. Maybe there were no men at all in Eliza’s kitchen, but maybe there were.”
Luke looked discouraged for a minute, but when his eyes met mine, he smiled. “Excellent lunch,” he said as he picked up his empty plate and mine. “I feel healthier already,” he added as he walked to the dishwasher to load the lunch dishes.
“Since all we have to go on at this point is what Barney said about the men in Eliza’s house, I vote we explore that theory,” I suggested. “We know someone killed Eliza, so there was definitely another person or persons in her home that day. Barney didn’t imagine her death and since he told you about the two men before anyone knew Eliza was dead, I see no reason to assume he imagined men who weren’t really there. We just have to figure out what about these men said ‘Bonanza stars’ to Barney. Besides, he was lucid enough for Eliza to ask for his help with . . . ,” I paused, as the realization of what I was about to say jolted me back to Eliza’s funeral.
Luke closed the dishwasher after adding the final dish. When I stopped speaking to think about what I was saying (no, multitasking might not be a quality I possess), he turned and watched me expectantly.
“What kind of business was Barney helping Eliza handle?” I asked, hoping this line of thinking would produce something useful.
“Business?” Luke asked, looking confused.
“At Eliza’s funeral,” I clarified, “her sister-in-law said something about Barney taking care of some family business for Eliza. Did Barney mention anything about that to you?”
“No,” Luke denied. After pausing a few seconds to think, he added, “Uncle Barney ran a successful business for years and always seemed to make smart investments, so I guess he could have been giving her advice on investing her money. I’m not sure that would be called family business unless maybe it was family money we’re talking about?”
“I’m not sure, since she didn’t elaborate,” I replied, sorry that I couldn’t be more helpful.
“Look, why waste time speculating? I’m going to call her and ask for details. Do you remember the name and hometown of Eliza’s brother?” Luke asked, heading for the laptop as he spoke.
“Um, they came down for the funeral from Ohio,” I began speaking very slowly, since that’s the speed the information was coming back to me. It’s a shame people can’t buy more memory to upgrade like we do for our computers, because I’m pretty sure I’d pull up information faster that way. “Eliza’s brother’s name is Joseph Parker, the same last name as Eliza. I think my mother said she took back her maiden name, never married, or something like that. Anyway, his name is Joseph, and his wife is — Mrs. Parker. Sorry, I can’t remember Ms. Eliza’s sister-in-law’s first name.”
“Don’t be sorry, you’re doing great. What about the city in Ohio? Any idea?” Luke asked, looking at me with those beautiful eyes that made me anxious to deliver the correct answer.
“I don’t know, but my mother does. Let me call her and find out.” As I reached for my purse to retrieve my cell phone, I realized that might not be the best idea I’d ever had. I was supposed to be home, sic
k, and in bed, none of which I was. “Um, wait a minute,” I hesitated. “Maybe I’ll just call CeCe and ask her to find out.”
I called CeCe, told her we were hoping we’d found a lead, and asked her to use any means necessary to get the information from the sisters. She called me back five minutes later.
When I answered my phone, CeCe responded, “Smithburg, Ohio. Got to go. Customer. Talk to you later. Good luck!” and she was gone.
Luke searched the internet for the phone number for Joseph Parker in Smithburg, Ohio. He found five J/Joseph Parkers, and I started calling down the list looking for Eliza’s brother. I didn’t get lucky until the fourth number on the list. I gave my name and inquired about a relative named Eliza Parker in Louisiana.
“Maggie Eastman? Aren’t you the one whose mother is on the city council?” the woman asked.
Bingo.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered. While I couldn’t remember her name, I did recognize the voice as the woman I’d spoken to at the funeral, Eliza’s sister-in-law.
“Sorry, dear. I didn’t answer your question,” the woman continued. “Yes, this is Cheryl Parker, Joseph’s wife. We spoke at Eliza’s funeral. You’ll have to forgive my hesitation in answering. I’m afraid I’m still a little jumpy what with the break-in here and then finding out Eliza was murdered. Joseph has gone fishing and won’t be back until tomorrow, so my sister is staying with me until he returns. I’m just too scared to stay by myself right now.”
“You have my sympathy. You’ve had so much to deal with during a short period of time. I’m really sorry to disturb you,” I added. “But I’m afraid something else has happened down here. Eliza’s friend, Barney, was found dead the morning after her funeral. He was murdered, also. I wouldn’t bother you, but we need your help.”
“Murdered? Did you say Barney was murdered, too? Oh no, that’s terrible! What kind of help do you need from me?” she asked a little apprehensively.
“When we were talking at the funeral, you mentioned Barney was taking care of some business for Eliza to help her out,” I reminded her. “Whatever Barney was helping Eliza handle is really none of my business and normally I wouldn’t ask. Since they’ve both been murdered, it might answer some questions if you can tell me what Barney was doing to help her?” I held my breath, crossed my fingers, and hoped she’d be willing to tell me.
“He was taking care of Marianne’s Garden,” Mrs. Parker told me, for all the good that did. I kept my fingers crossed a little longer hoping this didn’t mean Cheryl Parker was delusional. We didn’t talk very long at the funeral. That could have been a day her meds were working exceptionally well.
“Um, I’m sorry? Who’s Marianne?” I inquired carefully.
“Sorry, dear,” Mrs. Parker chuckled. “I’ve been married to Joseph too long. I’m assuming everyone is aware of the painting, just like Joseph’s family thinks. It has been a part of their family for several generations. Marianne’s Garden is a painting by Rupert Frost.”
She paused, so I took the opportunity to ask for a clarification. “Rupert Frost?” I repeated, thinking out loud, since I recognized the name. “Isn’t he a famous painter from the late 1800's?”
“That’s the one,” Mrs. Parker confirmed, sounding pleased that I knew who he was. “His life ended far too soon which made the few paintings he’d done worth a lot of money. Marianne’s Garden has been in Joseph’s family for years, and apparently it has to be passed around among the family members and hidden away. I’ve always thought that’s such a shame, since it’s a beautiful painting that never gets displayed. Eliza wrote to us that she was going to ask Barney to keep it safe for her. Once it came into her possession, she said having it in her house made her nervous. Actually, she mentioned in the last phone conversation Joseph had with her that she was so relieved that Barney had agreed to take care of it for her.”
“Mrs. Parker,” I asked carefully, “why does the family keep the painting hidden?” I didn’t want to ask what I was wondering, but it sounded like the painting might have been stolen by some member of Eliza’s family.
“Joseph told me this long story about something that happened in his family years ago. Supposedly, that is what started the tradition, but I can’t recall the particulars. I just know they don’t lock it away somewhere. They don’t want it to be known where it is, but they do enjoy having it around to admire from time to time,” Mrs. Parker admitted. “Oh, I wish Joseph was here to speak to you about this. He knows all the details. When he first explained how his family handles the painting, I thought perhaps it had been stolen and that was why they didn’t want to display it,” she chuckled.
So Joseph Parker had explained why the painting should stay hidden and that it wasn’t stolen. Yeah, I definitely needed to talk to him. “Um, does your husband have a cell phone?” I asked, hoping that didn’t sound as pushy as I felt, but this was too important to wait.
“He does,” she confirmed. “But there is no reception, or land line for that matter, where he is staying. He’ll be home tomorrow morning, and I can have him call you as soon as he gets back. This is all so disturbing. Poor Barney was such a nice man. Would it help if I read you the letter Eliza sent concerning Barney and the painting?”
I’d been about to end the conversation so I could tell Luke what I’d found out, but that stopped me. “You still have the letter from Eliza?” I asked, trying to control my excitement.
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Parker assured me. “Joseph insisted we keep all correspondence from the family in a lockbox in the attic. I know exactly where it is, so it’s no trouble if you would like to hear the letter in its entirety. Shall I get it and call you right back?”
“That would be wonderful, Mrs. Parker. If you’re sure it isn’t too much trouble for you to get to the attic?” I was instantly sorry I had added the last statement. Although I wanted to be considerate of this kind woman, we really needed all the information we could get at this point.
I let out the breath I’d been holding when she insisted, “No, no, dear. Stairs are part of my exercise routine which I’ve neglected for a few days, so it’s not a problem. What is your number?”
I gave her my cell phone number, thanked her profusely, and disconnected. After filling Luke in on the conversation with Eliza’s sister-in-law, I watched over his shoulder as he Googled Marianne’s Garden and we waited for the phone to ring. I didn’t have to wait long.
When I answered the phone, I didn’t get the chance to say “hello,” because Cheryl Parker was already screaming “It’s gone! It’s gone!”
“The letter is gone?” I asked trying to grasp what was going on.
“No,” she clarified, “the lockbox is gone! The whole box is missing! Why would anyone take that? It contained nothing but letters from family. I have to go, dear. I have to call the police and let them know we were mistaken when we said nothing was taken when our house was broken into.”
“Mrs. Parker, I’m so sorry it’s missing. I know you need to call the police now, but would it be alright if I call your husband tomorrow morning when he gets home?” I asked quickly.
“Of course, that’ll be fine, and I’ll talk to you later, Maggie. Goodbye.” With that she was gone and dealing with her own problem.
I related the last phone conversation to Luke. We both sat there for a minute, bummed about the missing letter concerning Barney’s involvement, and trying to figure out what to do now.
“Do you think we can find out anything helpful by going to one of the art galleries around the French Quarter? I noticed we passed a couple of them when we were shopping,” Luke proposed after thinking about it for a minute.
“That’s a great idea,” I agreed. “Someone who’s studied art might have some information about Marianne’s Garden or at least about Rupert Frost. It’s worth a shot.”
By doing a little research before heading out, we discovered four galleries within walking distance. With our list in hand, we left in pursuit of information. The first galle
ry we came to was closed, having gone out of business. Not a great start, but we pushed on.
The second place on the list was just around the corner from the first stop. It was a small gallery, but I was encouraged when I saw the graduate-student-type guy sitting behind a desk in the middle of the room.
When the grad student came rushing toward us he reached me first, so I jumped right in. “Hello,” I said in my most ingratiating voice. “I’m hoping you can help us.”
“Why, I’d be delighted,” he assured me, and he did, in fact, look delighted.
“We’re looking for some information,” I said as sweetly as I knew how. The change that came over the grad student following that statement would have been approximately the same if I had reached out and slapped his face.
“Information?” he repeated with a disgusted look on his face. “We sell art, not information.”
“Oh, this is about art. We’re trying to find out about a painting done by Rupert Frost,” I clarified, hoping he’d be interested in talking about his alleged field of expertise.
“Lady, we deal in local artists exclusively. Check the library.” With that he turned and headed back to his desk as if we had already left.
I turned to Luke who’d been standing at my side watching the discussion but hadn’t made a sound. The smile on his face indicated he was struggling to hold in a laugh, which was probably why he grabbed my arm and hustled me out the door. As I expected, once we were on the street, Luke started chuckling.
“I don’t see what’s so funny.” I was going for aggravated, but seeing Luke laugh made me smile. That kind of took the edge off any tone I was hoping to achieve. “You want to tell me what part of that exchange you enjoyed,” I demanded.
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