“The woods around BAS?”
He nodded.
“What did they do?”
“Drink. Dance. And they kissed each other.” He flushed red. “They did other things.”
Because Sienna’s Bramble had initially been composed of four females and four males, I wasn’t surprised the eight of them had paired off. I was curious about the specifics, however. “I know Sienna and Gordon were a romantic couple. And Christian was fond of a girl called Amanda, but she left the school early.”
Theo nodded. “The girl who loved plants. She went into the woods to draw.”
“What about Zack? He’s the bald one.”
“He had hair twenty years ago. Lots of hair. Almost the same color hair as Andrew and Dean. What happened to his hair? Did he get sick and lose it all?”
“He shaved it off.” I rushed to go on, not wanting to dwell on Zack’s hair, or lack of it. “Did Zack care for one of the girls more than the others?”
“Leah,” Theo answered without hesitation. “She liked him, too. Only she liked Gordon more. But Gordon loved Sienna, so Leah spent a lot of time with Zack.”
I thought about the group dynamics. “Does this mean Joel and Dawn were a couple?”
“Maybe,” Theo said. “They hugged once in a while. But Dawn watched Gordon and Sienna when they didn’t know she was there. I think Dawn loved Gordon more than Leah did.”
“What about Joel?”
Theo scrunched up his face, as if he smelled something he didn’t like. “Joel got angry all the time. And he yelled. Especially at Gordon.”
“Why?”
“He liked Sienna, too. I watched them the first week we were there. They were happy together. That was before Gordon moved to the school.”
As I feared, there was jealousy in the group over both Sienna’s talent and Gordon’s affection for her. Shades of the Evangeline Chaplin trial. Was envy behind every murderous deed? “Were you surprised Gordon took Sienna away from Joel?”
“No. Gordon was handsome. Like a prince in a fairy tale. Of course, Sienna would go with a prince and not with someone like Joel. Or me. But I wanted her to be safe. I followed them when I could. To make certain Sienna would be all right.”
“And was she?”
“No one hurt her when I watched. Gordon was usually with Sienna. Maybe he was watching over her, too. But he should have stopped her from drinking. Sienna drank more than the others did. Even more than Zack, the man with no hair. I didn’t remember his name until I saw him again. He drank every night when he was a student here. Sometimes he got sick. So did Sienna.” Theo looked puzzled. “Why did they keep drinking if it made them feel bad?”
“I don’t think they could help themselves,” I said with a sigh. “Do you remember what they were drinking? Beer, wine? Something harder, like whisky or vodka?”
“I wasn’t close enough to see what was in the bottles Gordon brought.”
That brought my pacing to a halt. Gordon had indeed raided his family’s wine cellars that summer, and why not? He had access to an entire vineyard’s bounty. “Did they go off to the woods to party every night?”
“I don’t know if it was every night. They went to the woods late. Sometimes I was tired and fell asleep in my cabin.”
“Did Gordon have a car back then?”
“Not a car. What they called a little van. Black. With the family name on it.”
It was no surprise Gordon had access to a vehicle twenty years ago. In this case, the family business’s minivan.
“Sometimes I couldn’t follow them because they all drove off in Gordon’s van.” Theo looked even unhappier. “I worried about Sienna when they did that. I couldn’t protect her.”
“That means they didn’t always party at the school. They could have snuck off to the beach.” My suspicions deepened. “Or to the woods on Gordon’s farm.”
“Do you think they took Sienna to where you found her body?” Theo asked.
“Someone brought her there. And she probably wouldn’t have gone with anyone except her Bramble friends.”
“Did one of them kill her?” His voice grew sharp. “One of her own friends?”
“I don’t know.” I began to pace again. “It’s also possible she wasn’t killed at all.”
“But Sienna is dead,” he cried out in alarm. “You found the body. She’s dead.”
“True. But you described how she drank heavily almost every night. So much so that she often got sick. What if she literally poisoned herself with alcohol during one of these parties?”
Tears welled up in his eyes. “Like those birds who get drunk from the berries and die.”
“Yes. If any living thing drinks too much alcohol, it dies.”
“Then her Bramble friends didn’t kill her?”
“I didn’t say that. I said it was possible she died accidentally.” Lost in thought, I stared at the goldfinches fighting for a place at the sunflower seed feeders. “If it was an accident, her friends may have panicked and tried to cover up her death.”
“They lied?”
“Oh, I bet they’re all lying about Sienna’s death. The only question is: Are they covering up a tragic accident, or a murder?” I took a deep breath. “You have to tell the police about what you saw at these secret parties where Sienna got drunk.”
His eyes widened in fear. “I can’t talk to the police. I won’t.”
“I’ll talk to them first. I’ll call the detective from the sheriff’s department, Captain Holt. He’s nice. You can trust him. And I’ll be with you.”
“I don’t want to, Marlee.”
“You do want to find out what happened to Sienna, don’t you? Think how important it will be for her family to finally know the truth. After all, would Sienna have let me find her body in the woods if she didn’t want everyone to know how she died?”
He shut his eyes. After a lengthy pause, he said, “You’re right. I’ll do it for Sienna.”
“Good. Now I want you to do something for me. Go into the cottage and pack some clothes. Until the BAS centenary is over, I don’t want you staying by yourself. Whoever left the police cap and badge was doing more than playing a joke. They wanted to scare you. And I don’t want you here alone when this person decides to frighten you again.”
“But I don’t want to go home to Illinois. I want to stay here and help Sienna.”
“You’re not going to Illinois. You’re moving in with me for a few days. I have a house on the lake with plenty of bedrooms. You’ll be safe there.”
When I began walking toward the front yard, I felt relieved to hear Theo close behind.
“I can’t do that, Marlee. It wouldn’t be right. We’re not married.”
I chuckled. “This is a friendly invitation, not a romantic one.”
“But I can’t leave my birds. Who will feed them?”
“We’ll stop by every day to fill the feeders.” By this time we had reached his front porch. “Now please hurry and pack. I told my friends I’d meet them at the BAS art show tonight.”
“I don’t want to go to the art show. I don’t want to see Gordon again.”
“And I don’t want you to, either,” I told him. “That’s why I need to get you settled in before I leave. No one will know where you’ve gone. If Captain Holt is at BAS today, I’ll talk to him about what you told me. All you have to do tonight is relax at my house and watch TV.” I smiled. “Or even bake. May as well get a head start on tomorrow’s pastries.”
“Marlee, you are a nice person,” Theo said. “But you’re not family. I can’t stay with you. My father wouldn’t like it. He knows I live at Crow Cottage and I should stay—”
“Tie me kangaroo down,” a familiar voice rang out.
Theo looked around in alarm. I’d forgotten about Minnie.
The sound of a phone ringing was followed by “Helloooo. Where’s the dog?”
“Who’s saying that?” Theo asked with obvious trepidation.
“Minnie.” I no
dded toward the open windows of my car. “I brought her to the store today. She’s in her cage at the moment, but I’m sure she wants to get home so I can let her out.”
Upon hearing my voice, Minnie asked, “Where’s Mommy?” This was followed by three whistles, the meow of a cat, and the sound of someone smacking their lips.
Theo’s worried expression changed to one of bliss. “Minnie’s your talking bird?”
“Yep, the singing one, too. And you can talk to her all night at my house. Although I’m sure she’ll dominate the conversation.”
He looked like a child who had just been gifted with a new puppy. “I want to meet her. Let me get some clothes and we can leave.” Theo ran into the house before I could say a word.
The same couldn’t be said for Minnie, who launched into another chorus of Ba-ba-ba ba-ba ba-ran.
Chapter 17
Like the day after Mardi Gras, vestiges of the previous night’s luau remained. Discarded leis lay tossed over bushes, the charred remains of a hula skirt blew about the grass, and the limbo pole sat propped against the wall of the dining hall. The air also smelled faintly of barbecued pork. Aside from that, the rustic campus of the Blackberry Art School looked as it usually did. People painted at easels, sketched the shimmering bayou, or wandered among the striking sculpture pieces placed among the flower beds and blackberry bushes.
“Everything looks peaceful,” I remarked to Emma and Tess. “Hardly seems possible there were two cases of alcohol poisoning last night, and a hula dancer who caught on fire.”
“Let’s hope the road rally goes off without a hitch,” Tess said as we made our way up the winding path to the alumni art exhibit. “Otherwise Piper will take to her bed for weeks.”
“Speaking of taking to her bed, how long before Alison recovers from last night’s partying?” I asked. “When I got home today, she was huddled under the sheets with the shades drawn. All she wanted was weak tea and a damp cloth to put over her eyes.”
Tess giggled. “How Victorian. She’ll need a fainting couch next.”
“She’s embarrassed, although I’m sure her stomach and her head feel awful. Ali hasn’t done anything like that since her bachelorette party.” Emma brushed aside the branches of the bushes lining our path. “Too bad all of you missed today’s activities here. We had kayak races after breakfast, a big picnic lunch on Oriole Beach, followed by a talk on campus by Luther Callan. He was incredible.”
Luther Callan was the most famous artist to emerge from BAS. For four decades, he had been a giant in the art world, with his paintings found on the walls of the Museum of Modern Art and the Tate Modern. “I even spent some time with my watercolors after his talk,” she continued. “And I haven’t picked up a brush in years. But being around someone like Luther is inspiring.”
Because of the centenary, BAS alumni were encouraged to use all the facilities on the campus, which included a first-rate printmaking studio. Ever since my attendance at the opening reception on Monday night, I had been itching to once again get my hands on the school’s linoleum blocks, etching press, sharpening stones, and brayers.
I sighed. “I’d love to spend a few hours silk screening. But there’s too much going on right now for that. And if Captain Holt isn’t here tonight, I’ll have to meet with him tomorrow. At least that gives me more time to prepare Theo to speak with the sheriff’s department again.”
“Are you sure it was a good idea to leave your baker at the house?” Emma had been there when Theo and I had arrived an hour ago. “He seems like a nervous type. And eventually Alison will get out of bed and wander into the kitchen. They might feel uncomfortable around each other.”
“Theo feels uncomfortable around everyone.” Tess shrugged. “Except for Marlee.”
“They’ll be fine. I stopped by the shop to pick up baking supplies on the way home. Theo will be kept busy baking.” Although I wasn’t certain how much baking would get done. I had left Theo sitting cross-legged on the floor, gazing up at Minnie in utter fascination as she sang, spoke, and danced along her perch. I knew from experience that “The Minnie Show” could be quite engrossing. And lengthy.
“By the way, your friend Piper has excellent taste,” Emma said. “I saw her this afternoon. She was wearing a piece from my boss’s resort collection. Here I thought I’d be the only one at BAS decked out in the latest Ralph Lauren.” She looked down at her navy linen summer skirt and matching silk halter top.
Because I knew Emma would be sporting designer duds again, I’d taken the opportunity to change into a strapless jumpsuit of yellow seersucker when I went home to drop off Minnie and Theo. I’d also twisted my long hair into a loose chignon and donned enormous gold hoop earrings for a little drama. I didn’t want Emma to think I’d grown so negligent about my appearance that I wore nothing but jeans and my Berry Basket apron . . . even if that was largely true.
At last, we reached the largest building on campus, which stood on a wooded knoll overlooking the bayou. Constructed to resemble a historic white barn in Oriole County, the structure was the size of an expansive ski lodge. The alumni’s art exhibit had been set up inside, with towering metal sculptures ringing the exterior wooden walls. According to the centenary invitation, one art piece from every student would be on display; I wondered what long-ago print of mine they had chosen to exhibit.
When we entered, we were met with a crowd of people, all lit by the warming rays of the late afternoon sun. Birdsong could be heard through the open doorways and windows, while the air was perfumed with the aromas of pine and paint, a combination that always signaled Blackberry Art School to me.
I gazed upward. The barn studio was two stories high with a railing along the open second floor and a skylight illuminating the interior like a medieval cathedral. Every inch of space was taken up with paintings, watercolors, sketches, sculptures, mixed-media installations, pottery, glasswork, photographs, and much more. I felt tears sting my eyes. To think the natural beauty and unique spirit of Oriole Point had inspired all this.
“They have the artwork grouped according to summer sessions,” Emma said.
I craned my neck to see better over the crowd. “I think our year is on the other side.”
When we reached the tall southern wall, the three of us smiled at the sight of what we had created as boisterous teenagers.
“Better than I remember.” Tess stared at her fluted amber glass vase. “Although the lip is clumsy. I think I used the wrong carbon rod. Of course, I was only fifteen.”
Not surprisingly, her work as a teenager was more sophisticated than ours. However, Emma’s watercolor of the sunset over the bayou and my silk-screened blueberries were nothing to apologize for. I also found it amusing my artwork had been inspired by berries. We chuckled over Alison’s black ceramic bowl decorated with turquoise dots. The only clay our friend had learned to successfully throw that summer was a bowl; all of them covered in turquoise dots. Turquoise was still her favorite color.
While Tess and Emma checked out pieces created by the rest of our Bramble, I decided to see what BAS had exhibited of Andrew and Dean. As expected, each brother’s work was represented by an oil canvas: Andrew’s an abstract swirl of different shades of blue, Dean’s an exact copy in beige and cream. I suspected the Cabot boys never had any serious interest in painting, but only wanted to hang out with the artsy bayou kids for a summer.
I glanced down at my watch. Ryan was supposed to meet me here at seven. And I expected Little Pete and the Ohio cousins to be with him. They were a friendly bunch, and I didn’t mind, especially since BAS was hosting a fish fry tonight. I had called Ryan to ask him to accompany me to my meeting with Zack. Although he agreed to come with me, I sensed his disapproval. Because Ryan was also a big perch fan, I hoped he would be in a better mood once the fish fry was under way.
After exchanging words with several local alumni, I scanned the barn in search of Sienna’s Bramble friends. The next best thing would be finding the artwork of Sienna Katsaros
and her fellow students from that session. I had a particular interest in seeing what Theo had produced all those years ago.
It took a while before I realized their year was exhibited upstairs. When I reached the top floor, I stopped cold. At the far wall hung a large oil painting at least seven feet wide. Unlike the oils of Andrew and Dean, this had technique and passion behind every brushstroke. As I walked closer to the painting, a sunbeam from the skylight hit it in such a way that a corner of the canvas became invisible behind the illumination. It had an unsettling effect given that the subject of the painting was a young woman painting at an easel. Because the slim, brunette girl resembled the photos of Sienna, I knew it was a self-portrait. But the sunbeam kept obscuring her face, as if the ghost of Sienna wanted to hide from my curious gaze by wrapping herself in sunlight.
“I told you she was talented.” Joel MacGregor came to stand beside me, his attention fixed on the painting.
“I see now why she won all the prizes that year.”
“The most gifted of anyone here. Maybe the nicest, too. I don’t think that happens often. Most talented people are full of themselves. Arrogant, entitled, egotistical.”
“I don’t think you have to be talented to be full of yourself. Or arrogant.”
Joel threw me a jaundiced look. “You do love to challenge people. I’m glad you weren’t a student here when I was. We wouldn’t have gotten along. You irritate me.”
“The feeling’s mutual.”
He snickered. “Yeah, you definitely would not have fit in with our Bramble group. You probably weren’t even a talented artist.”
“And you’re a real charmer.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m curious. What was your berry nickname back then? Everyone gets one. What was yours? Given your engaging personality, I’m trying to think of a berry with an unpleasant flavor.”
“Ha-ha.” Crossing his arms, Joel returned his attention to Sienna’s painting.
“No, really. I’m curious. My nickname was ‘Razzy’ because I did this a lot.” I made a loud raspberry sound.
“Why does that not surprise me?” He screwed up his face for a moment, as if deciding whether to tell me. “I choked on a fish bone the first week I was at the school. So my nickname was taken from chokeberry.”
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