A Palette for Murder

by Sybil Johnson

  “We heard she sometimes asked for…donations to keep visits to her quiet,” Rory said.

  “She wasn’t blackmailing me if that’s what you’re getting at. I like my privacy, but I’m not going to pay someone to keep their mouth shut.”

  “What about anyone else?”

  “Doesn’t seem like something she’d do. She was on the up and up. Like I said, I don’t know anything about her death. The last time I saw her was the week before. You should talk to the woman who visited her after me. Lots of anger there.”

  “What happened?”

  “I was in the bathroom at Willow’s place when I heard yelling. Went out to make sure she was okay and this woman was in the kitchen, waving a piece of paper in Willow’s face.”

  “Can you describe her?”

  “Older, past sixty, looked like she hadn’t exercised a day in her life. Willow called her some name that starts with an…M, I think. Whoever she was, she said Willow would pay for it.”

  Monica, Rory mouthed to Liz who nodded her head in agreement.

  “Thanks for your time,” Rory said.

  As the two women walked away, she said to Liz, “Monica lied to me about never having been in Willow’s house. She claimed she didn’t even know where she lived. She did stand to lose a store she’s had for thirty years.”

  “She does spend most of her time there. It’s pretty much the only thing in her life since her husband died. That might have put her over the edge.”

  In a parking lot overlooking the ocean, chalk designs were splashed over the pavement on four foot by four foot squares scattered throughout the lot with enough space between them for people to walk between the pieces created by the young artists. Proud parents pointed out their children’s artwork to everyone who would listen. Rory and Liz strolled through the lot, careful not to step on any of the colorful pictures.

  “How do we know the names of the artists? None of the kids are listed in the brochure. The only names in here are the professionals who entered,” Liz said.

  “Look, each of them signed their work.” Rory pointed to the bottom of each piece they passed.

  “I like this one. Very realistic.” Liz stopped at a drawing of a dolphin leaping out of the ocean.

  A boy standing nearby who looked to be about twelve blushed at her praise.

  “This yours?” Rory asked. When he nodded, she gave him a thumbs up.

  They were leaving the parking lot headed toward the next stop, when a familiar bark reached their ears.

  “Is that Buddy?” Rory turned in the direction the sound had come from.

  The golden retriever bounded toward them, practically dragging Bethany along with him. She held onto his leash tightly while a boy and a girl ran beside their mother, and their father brought up the rear with the other dog.

  “He’s happy to see you,” Bethany said when she reached them.

  Rory and Liz patted the dog on the head. A man walked by, talking on a cell phone, and bumped into another pedestrian. When he got too close to one of the kids, Buddy growled.

  Bethany shushed the dog. “Sorry about that. He’s very protective of our kids. He growls at anyone he thinks is a threat to them. That man accidentally ran into my youngest earlier.”

  Rory looked at Liz. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “I think so.” Liz turned to the woman. “Bethany, do you think we could borrow Buddy for a while? Walk around the festival with him?”

  “Sure, he would like that.” She started to hand over the dog’s leash then held it back at the last second. “You’re bringing him back though, right? The kids have become attached to him.”

  Rory suspected the children weren’t the only ones who would miss the dog when he left. “Of course. We’ll walk around for a bit. Say an hour? We’ll meet you back here.”

  Looking relieved, Bethany handed Liz the leash. She bent down and hugged the dog. “See you later, Buddy. Be a good boy.”

  Rory and Liz waved as they headed with their canine companion toward the next parking lot. On their way across the street, they walked by two more jugglers passing brightly colored juggling pins between them.

  “Do you think this will work?” Liz asked.

  “It’s worth a shot. If he’s protective of kids he hasn’t known that long, he’s probably even more protective of someone he’s with every day. I bet he would growl at the person who hit Kit if he saw them again,” Rory said.

  “That won’t prove for sure that person hurt him though.”

  “Of course not, but it’s a start. If we find someone we can always check them out and see if they could have been anywhere near that alley when Kit was attacked.”

  The dog seemed to know and like everyone they met. As they passed by Lance, who was handing out brochures for the gym, he bent down to pet the dog who wagged his tail in delight. They thought they found a suspect when Buddy growled at a passerby, but it turned out to be the same man the dog had considered a threat to Bethany’s children.

  At the entrance to the lot where the adult amateurs’ work was on display, they passed a mime pretending to walk a dog.

  “None of the pieces we’ve looked at so far have 3D effects like Dawn wanted us to see. They must be in a different part of the festival,” Liz said when they finished admiring the pieces in the lot.

  Rory consulted her brochure. “It says here the 3D illusionistic paintings are all on the pier. Those must be the ones she was talking about. Let’s head there next.”

  Buddy strained at the leash as they navigated their way through the crowd to the bottom of the hill, stopping in front of the bandstand, where Tripp was listening to the music.

  “Is that Buddy?” He leaned down to pat the dog, who barked his approval. “I didn’t know you were taking care of him. I thought you told me he was with a family.”

  Rory smiled. “He is. We thought we’d give them a break and take him for a walk. We’re headed to see the art on the pier. Do you want to come with us?”

  Tripp checked the time on his watch. “I wish I could, but I have to get to work. I looked at the pieces earlier. They’re pretty amazing.” He nodded toward the bandage on Rory’s arm. “Skating injury?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I wish I could stay longer, but I better be off.” He patted the dog on the head and headed up the hill.

  Rory and Liz made their way along the pier that had been transformed into a colorful pastel pathway filled with eight foot by eight foot sections of sidewalk art. They passed by reproductions of famous paintings, a bunny popping out of a hole and a scene from Disney’s The Lion King until, halfway down, they reached a reproduction of Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa done in black and white chalk. Veronica stood on a bench, snapping photos of the piece from above. She hopped down when she saw the two of them.

  “Doing an article for the paper?” Rory asked.

  The reporter nodded as she wrote the name of the artist on a notepad. “I got to take pictures of some of the pieces while the artists were creating them. It was eye opening.” She looked around as if checking to see who was nearby, then moved closer to them. “No word yet from my army, but they’re still asking around.”

  Liz looked at the other two, a question in her eyes.

  “That’s what Veronica calls her informants who give her tips on what’s going on around town,” Rory said. “She asked them to see if anyone saw anything in the area where Kit was attacked.”

  “Oh,” Liz said. “Sort of like what we’re doing now with Buddy.”

  Veronica frowned in puzzlement. “How’s Buddy helping you?”

  “We figure he was with Kit when he was hit and might react if he sees the person again. Since Kit’s still unconscious and can’t tell us anything, we thought maybe Buddy could. We’re walking around the festival to see if he reacts to anyone. So
far no luck.”

  “Good idea.” Veronica repositioned her tote bag on her shoulder. “I’m off. You should check out the rest of the paintings on the pier. You have to view them from the proper angle though. Otherwise, they look distorted. There’s one that Dawn Ogden did of a waterfall I particularly like.”

  While the reporter headed up the street, the other two continued down the pier. Rory jumped when she saw an alligator emerging from the pavement, then laughed at herself when she remembered it was only a picture. At the end, they found Dawn sitting on a bench by the piece she’d drawn.

  Rory experienced a slight sense of dizziness when she stood in front of the depiction of a waterfall. Even though she knew the pavement was flat, she felt she was looking into a deep hole and if she took a step forward, she would go over the edge and plunge down the falls. “How long did that take you?”

  “I started yesterday and finished at noon today,” Dawn said. “Any news?”

  “Nothing solid to report,” Rory said. “We’re doing everything we can.”

  After Dawn explained some of the techniques she used, Rory and Liz headed back toward their rendezvous point with Bethany and her family.

  “I guess whoever hit Kit isn’t here today,” Liz said as they walked the dog back up the hill.

  “Guess not,” Rory said. Disappointed their experiment hadn’t worked, they handed Buddy over to Bethany and her family and said goodbye. Rory spent the walk home trying to think of some other way to figure out who had attacked Kit.

  Chapter 20

  “Now that you’ve seen what’s possible, let’s get started on our own trompe l’oeil project. Remember, highlights and shadows are both important in creating a believable three-dimensional illusion,” Dawn said to the students in her Sunday afternoon class. Five faces stared at the painting teacher from five separate windows on her computer screen.

  In addition to Teresa and Liz, three other women watched their first lesson in the online course from the comfort of their own homes. Rory sat beside Dawn ready to help in case there were problems with the software.

  “You should have all prepped your surface, traced on the pattern and basecoated the entire design area in white.” The teacher put up a photo of a wooden stool on the display. A cherry pie was painted on its seat. “This is what your finished piece will look like at the end of the six-week course. You don’t have to paint the pie on a stool, of course. Any round object will do.”

  A knock sounded on the front door. Dawn looked up briefly, mouthed “ignore it” to Rory and kept on talking. Another knock, louder this time.

  Dawn sighed. “Hold on a minute, class.” She turned to Rory. “Could you get that for me and tell them to come back later?”

  Rory nodded and answered the front door while the painting teacher continued with her class. On the porch she found Detective Green with three uniformed officers standing behind him.

  “Rory. Didn’t expect to see you here. Is Ms. Ogden home?”

  “She’s teaching a class right now. Can you come back later?”

  “I need to speak with her now.”

  From the serious look on his face, Rory knew better than to argue. “Come in.” She led the way into the dining room where Dawn was answering a student’s question about shading. She turned in her chair and looked up, an annoyed expression on her face.

  “Sorry, he said it was important,” Rory said.

  “I’m in the middle of class. Can’t it wait?”

  “Afraid not.” He handed her a piece of paper. “This is a search warrant. You’ll need to stop what you’re doing and wait in the living room while we conduct our search.”

  Dawn stared at the warrant as if she couldn’t believe what she was reading. “But why? I’ve told you everything I know. There’s nothing of interest to you here.”

  He merely raised an eyebrow and nodded toward the computer screen, where five faces looked on in confusion. “We’ll need to look at that computer too.”

  Dawn nodded, a resigned looked on her face. She turned to her students. “I’m afraid something’s come up. I’m going to have to cut this class short.”

  Five voices talked all at once, asking what was going on. She silenced them with a raised hand. “I’m sorry. It can’t be helped. I’ll contact you about rescheduling as soon as I can. In the meantime, look over my instructions and practice.”

  One by one the windows disappeared from the screen until only Liz’s worried face was left. “What’s going on, Rory?” she said.

  “I’m not sure. The police are here. It looks serious.” Rory glanced at the detective, who looked on impatiently. “I’d better go. I’ll call you later.”

  Dawn followed an officer into the living room while Rory bent over the keyboard and shut down the program. After she was done, she joined Dawn on the couch where they sat side by side, silently waiting for the detective to return. A uniformed officer stood near the only door out of the room, making sure they stayed put, while others searched the house. When Detective Green walked into the room, Dawn reached out her hand and Rory gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  He held up a plastic bag in front of Rory. “Do you recognize this?”

  She studied the gold charm bracelet inside the bag. “It looks like Willow’s.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I recognize several of the charms. I’m as sure as I can be that it’s the one she always wore.” She cast a puzzled glance at the woman who sat beside her on the sofa.

  Dawn folded her hands in her lap and stared down at the floor.

  The detective turned toward her. “What are you doing with Ms. Bingen’s bracelet?”

  “It’s not Willow’s, it’s mine,” she said to her hands, then looked up and met his questioning gaze. “That’s all I’m saying. I’d like a lawyer now.”

  As the detective led her away, she looked over at Rory. “Your father, could you call him for me?”

  Rory nodded, drew her cell phone out of the pocket of her jeans and dialed her parents’ number.

  Rory sat in the lobby of the Vista Beach police station, flipping through her email on her phone while she waited for her father to finish talking with Dawn. She was so preoccupied with thoughts of the bracelet the police had found, she had to read one message from a client three times before the words finally registered. She’d been waiting an hour when a shadow fell over her. She looked up to find her father standing next to her chair.

  “She wants to see you,” he said.

  Rory nodded and, without saying a word, followed him into an interview room, where Dawn sat with her hands clasped on the table in front of her. Her eyes brightened when they entered the room. Rory sat on the other side of the table next to her father and waited for Dawn to speak.

  Dawn looked down at her hands and cleared her throat. “Thank you for coming. I’m sure you have a lot of questions.” She looked at Swan. “Can I talk to her alone, please?”

  He nodded and closed the door behind them, leaving the two women by themselves in the room.

  “I need to tell you something important.” Dawn stopped, as if unsure how to put into words what she wanted to say.

  Rory placed a hand over Dawn’s. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I won’t judge you. I promise.”

  “Willow was my mother.”

  Rory drew back her hand and sat back in her chair, digesting the unexpected news. “Your mother? Should you be telling me this? I’m not your lawyer. Nothing you say to me is confidential.”

  “I’m not telling you anything the police don’t already know.”

  “What if they ask me to testify?”

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

  “You said Willow was your mother?”

  “Mother is too strong a word for it. She gave birth to me, then decided she didn’t want me or my brother and left us when I w
as six and he was four. You grow up fast after something like that. Our father raised us by himself. He tried, but he wasn’t the best at keeping house. I ended up taking care of everyone.” Dawn looked across the table at Rory, bitterness written all over her face.

  “You never heard from her after she left?”

  “Not once. She completely cut ties with us. No birthday cards, no presents. Nothing. She might as well have been dead. Then she showed up in town six months ago. I didn’t even know who she was. Not until she told me two days before she died.”

  “You didn’t recognize her?”

  “I was young when she left, and my dad destroyed any pictures of her.”

  “All of them?”

  “Every single one. She was only a vague memory to me. An unpleasant one. She didn’t even have the same name. I guess the name Laura didn’t express her inner being or something. I hear she bought her new one from a homeless woman.”

  “Do the police know her real name now?”

  Dawn nodded. “I told them.”

  “She didn’t tell you who she was right away?”

  “No. She took a class from me. We even had dinner once or twice. She didn’t say anything about being my mother until one day, she confessed. I didn’t believe her at first.”

  “What convinced you?”

  “The bracelet.”

  “The one the police have?”

  Dawn nodded. “My mother gave me one just like it. That’s the one the police found, not Willow’s. I don’t know why I kept it all these years.” She looked straight ahead as if looking for answers in the marks on the wall. “I guess I wanted to keep some connection to her.”

  “If it’s a duplicate, you can tell the police that.”

  “I can’t prove it. My dad’s long gone and my brother was too young at the time to remember it.”

  Rory cast her mind back to the day she found Willow’s body and the charm found on the floor. “The police found a charm beside Willow. It must have come from her bracelet. A sun. If it’s not missing from your bracelet, won’t that prove it’s yours and not hers?”