I can make out a blue sky, a white sandy beach, and a couple holding hands from what I can tell of the bits and pieces. The words escape today to Tu… are written on the front.
Jasper pulls a plastic bag from his pocket and carefully encapsulates every last bit.
“Jasper”—I increase my hold on Cinnamon—“do you really think this might be evidence?” I whisper the words in the event I send guests into a frenzy. As much as you would think people would be on edge, there seems to be a morbid interest in all the murders that have overtaken Cider Cove as of late. I’ve fielded more questions this morning by guests who seemed enthralled by the killings rather than horrified, and that alone horrified me.
He grimaces a moment. “I don’t know. But I’m just crossing the starting line with the investigation, so I don’t think it’ll hurt to look at it. I’d better get going.” He dots my lips with another quick kiss. “Have fun at the bar.” He gives a curious look as I give him another far more lingering kiss.
Why do I get the feeling I won’t care for the real story behind this bar hop?
Why do I get the feeling he won’t like the fact I can read his mind?
I’ll have to make the time to tell Jasper all about my transmundane status. The sooner, the better.
We part ways and I wave as he takes Sherlock and leaves, much to Sherlock’s bacon-laced protest.
I am going to have fun tonight, and it just so happens that I’ll be having fun with a woman by the name of Madeline Harper.
I wonder what sent her running out of the inn just as Lad was killed, only to return to the ballroom afterwards?
I may not know the answer, but I have a feeling I’m about to find out.
Chapter 5
The Carter Art Center is located right in the heart of Edison—an odd location if you ask me, what with the gentlemen’s clubs, the ladies’ review, the pawn shop, and tattoo parlor ensconcing it.
But, nonetheless, that didn’t stop an entire horde of women from filling up each and every free workspace available in this brightly lit studio. It’s not only light and bright inside, but the walls are all covered with uniform canvases about the size of a refrigerator, and each one depicts a different scene from nature: a waterfall, autumn trees, a beautiful ocean sunset, snowy mountain tops, and so on. And surprisingly, each piece looks good enough to hang in a museum, or in the least my cottage.
Emmie perks to life as soon as we step into the place.
“We’re here,” she sings. “The investigation squad has descended on the premises.”
“Ooh.” Macy wiggles her shoulders. “Investigation squad. Sounds official. I like that.”
“Would you two keep it down?” I whisper—more like a hissper.
“Bizzy,” Macy hisses right back as we snag the last three spots available down in front. She makes a face my way. “All the good spots in the back are taken because we’re late. Now we have to sit up front with the teacher, in what’s known as the no-fun zone.”
Someone laughs from behind and I’m thrilled to see it’s Madeline. Her dark hair is swept back into a ponytail and she looks refreshed and energized, especially compared to the other night.
She looks to Macy. “I promise you, every spot in this room is the fun zone.” She waves at the class to garner everyone’s attention. “Our sommeliers will be making their rounds. Please know that there is no limit to how much we will pour, but we do ask that you know your limits. In my opinion, this is a three glass class. With the music, the sparkling conversation, and don’t forget the painting, I can guarantee a good time will be had by all! My name is Madeline Harper, but you can call me Maddie.” She steps to the front of the class and picks up a canvas with its back facing toward the crowd. “Tonight, I will be instructing you step by step how to paint this beauty.” She spins it around to reveal gorgeous crystal blue waters, a pale sandy beach, and a lavender sky. The entire room oohs and ahhs at the sight, and half the women in the class decide they want to hop onto the next plane to the Caribbean. Music begins to filter throughout the speakers, and the sommeliers begin circulating throughout the room to the delight of the lively crowd.
Emmie leans in. “Hey, Biz”—she whispers as she looks to the suspect in question—“is that her?”
I give a covert nod.
Em makes wild eyes at me. “Do you think she recognizes you?” she whispers just a touch louder, and I’m moved to kick her.
“No, and I want to keep it that way.” I glance back over at Madeline and wrinkle my nose. “Maybe she does. But that won’t stop me from trying to talk to her. I bet she knows something.”
A woman dressed as a waitress comes around and fills Emmie’s glass with white wine, Macy’s glass with red, and mine with water. I don’t mind. I need to keep my head about me. If I get too tipsy, I might be liable to hear the private thoughts of every woman in here at once. It’s happened a time or two when I’ve let my liquor get away from me, thus my desire not to get tipsy.
Madeline calls the class to order once again and instructs us to paint the upper third of our canvases with a base color of lavender.
“While you do that, I’ll tell you a little about myself,” she volunteers, and I feel like I’ve hit the jackpot. “I grew up in Rose Glen and went to art school out of state where I majored in frat boys and stale pizza.”
A warm laugh circles the room.
“I’ve always known I was going to do what I love,” she continues. “And this, right here, about sums it up.” She holds her own paintbrush in the air before getting back to the demonstration model she’s working on. “Of course, I also thought I’d be married and have two point five children by now, but here I am, single and not quite ready and willing to mingle.”
Another whoop circles the room with some people encouraging her to keep her options open.
“You never know when love will find you,” someone shouts.
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be!” someone else belts from the back. “Stay single. You’ll never have to share the remote!”
More laughter ensues.
“Or do a late night feeding,” the woman next to Emmie riots.
Macy raises her hand and I’m half-afraid of what’s about to fly out of her mouth. With my sister, it’s pretty much a crapshoot. We’ll either get kicked out on our ear or the whole room will love her.
“You have to be pro-active,” she says in that know-it-all sarcastic way that oddly seems to draw people in. “There are a lot of singles’ activities this month that are totally acceptable to attend. I just went to that blind date with stupid Cupid thing out in Cider Cove.”
A small groan evicts from me.
Great.
Either she’s trying to push this investigation into overdrive or she’s genuinely trying to give the girl some questionable advice.
Madeline opens her mouth to speak and someone shouts from the back, “I heard a murder took place out there.”
“See that?” someone shouts. “Looking for love is dangerous.”
Another woman belts out a laugh. “Who needs men when we can have good friends and wine!” She lifts her glass and everyone does the same at the inadvertent toast.
The glorified sommeliers come around and quickly refill our glasses. Shockingly, both Emmie and Macy are on their third, and we’ve hardly started painting the ocean.
I glance over at Madeline, and she takes a breath as if she needed a moment to collect herself. I’m sure she doesn’t hold those smart-aleck remarks—bordering on rude—against these women.
Sure, they’re bringing up the murder, but how were they supposed to know she knew the deceased?
But Macy knew for a fact that Madeline was at the inn the night Lad was killed. Leave it to my spicy sister to cut right to the investigative quick. Macy operates best in a contained environment, not where the liquor flows freely, thus inspiring her mouth to do the same.
The hour plods on, and soon enough we’re wrapping it up. Women stretch their limbs while walking around
admiring one another’s work. There’s a line to the restroom six women deep, and both Macy and Em are still imbibing as if we had stumbled upon the fountain of youth—more like the fountain of booze.
Madeline makes her rounds, nodding in approval at all the Caribbean blue beachscapes she comes upon in replicate. She heads our way and a part of me wants to muzzle Macy, but it’s too late. Madeline is already upon us.
“Great work.” She winces at Emmie’s canvas, which looks decent if you were looking at the world from Salvador Dalí’s perspective.
She steps my way and tips her head to the side, but she’s not looking at my artwork. She’s looking at me.
“You know, you look very familiar to me, but I can’t seem to place you. I’m embarrassed to say it’s been bugging me for the last half hour. Did we go to high school together?”
I step over to her while Emmie and Macy do their best to drain every bottle in this joint.
“We might have met.” I give a guilty shrug. “Emily Carter invited my friends and me to check out her art centers, and, of course, we decided on the sip and paint.” I nod over to Emmie and Macy as if to prove my point. “I’m the manager at the Country Cottage Inn. Were you at the blind date with Cupid shindig? I met so many people that night it’s hard to keep track.” Liar liar, paintbrush on fire, and probably my face and underwear, too. I hate to lie. Not to mention I’m terrible at it.
She sucks in a quick breath and slaps her knee. “Yes! That’s where I remember you from.” Her expression changes on a dime and she’s morbidly somber. “That was a terrible night. Lad was my friend.” And so much more. “He was…the best.” I wanted to say he was everything to me, but there’s no use in admitting it now. “I just can’t believe he’s gone.” Her eyes flood with tears. “But I plan on keeping his memory alive.” She blinks rapidly. “He was a very big part of the Carter Art Centers. He was the meat and potatoes of it if you ask me. Emily ran her art centers like a business, but when Lad stepped in, he treated every employee as if they were family.” Of course, I would be less of a sister and more of a wife. A private smile twitches on her lips.
Oh wow. Madeline was having an affair with him, wasn’t she?
I clear my throat. “It sounds like he was quite a guy. Had he been with the company for a while?”
“Not long enough. I’ve only known him for about a year. He and Emily were sort of a quick burn—more like a flash fire.” Something you’d want to put out and forget about. She shakes her head as she gazes out at the wall. “I can’t believe she’s alive and he’s dead.”
“Excuse me?” I blink back, trying to digest what that might mean.
Her fingers fly to her lips before they melt their way back down to her side. Did I say that out loud? Oh heck.
“I’m embarrassed to admit this, and I hope you won’t think less of me, but she was, you know, old enough to be his mother. I’m not used to that.”
“I know what you mean. My own mother, who has at least a couple of years on Emily, dated someone my age—my own boyfriend’s brother.” I got over it pretty quickly, but for the sake of milking this visit for what it’s worth, I’ll play along.
“No!” she gasps with delight and I think I fully have her trust now. And I didn’t mind throwing my mother under the cougar bus one bit to get it. “How did you handle it?”
“It’s over now. But it was odd while it lasted for so many reasons.” True as God. “Anyway, I can understand where you’re coming from. So Lad and Emily were the real deal, huh? I just met her briefly that night. That’s when she extended the invite to check this place out. They looked like a solid couple from what I could tell. He seemed really devoted to her.”
Madeline takes a breath. “I don’t know about that. I mean, I guess he was. There wasn’t a hint of a sign that he was going to leave her.” No matter how hard I pressed. “But he was never affectionate with her in public.” Not the way he was with me in private. “I mean, if I had a boyfriend, I’d want a little handholding, a public peck once in a while, but there was nothing. It’s almost as if it was a business arrangement. Or maybe he was showing her some sort of respect. Not that I wanted to see them making out in front of me.” She glances to the ceiling. “But, I mean, they were engaged. Most engaged couples that I know act as if they’re in love.”
Wow, Georgie is right. This world is full of ageist elitists. Not that I can point a finger after that Mom and Maximus catastrophe. And actually, they were pretty good together.
“How close were they to tying the knot?”
“This spring.” She nods. “Oh, and Emily’s daughter was not very happy about it. I’m shocked the sheriff’s department hasn’t arrested her yet. She threatened to kill Lad on numerous occasions. Of course, it was said in jest—angry jest, but no one thought she’d actually pull the trigger—pardon the gun pun.”
“When was she threatening him? Did a lot of people hear this?”
“The whole company. We have a meeting twice a month and Paige would wait until Emily and Lad would leave before she started badmouthing him. She made it clear she wasn’t a fan. I’m sure she’s dancing a jig right now.” Her features harden. She’s the easy suspect. Everyone knows that. I’ll have to point the sheriff’s department in her direction. Maybe there’s a tipline? It’s about time Paige gets what’s coming to her. Threaten to fire me, did you? I’ll get the last laugh yet.
A loud bang erupts from our right and it’s Emmie who’s knocked down her palette, only to leave a nice colorful blotch on the floor.
“Oh no!” I head over, trying to remove the palette from the floor, but it’s suctioned itself to the vinyl, and the more I try to lift it, the bigger the rainbow acrylic blob I create.
“Don’t worry.” Madeline whistles and a group of the former sommeliers morph into the cleanup crew. “You girls go ahead and take your paintings. We’ll get the rest of this. It was nice seeing you again.” She leans in. “I’m sorry, but your name escapes me.”
“Bizzy. Bizzy Baker.”
“That’s right!” She snaps her fingers before she shoots me with them. “I do remember that.” I remember thinking Busy Body. But she seems nice enough. And it felt good sharing those things about Lad. I miss him. I miss his beautiful face. Those strong arms. I’d give anything to have him back. But then, it was his time to go. I don’t think it could have worked any other way.
She says a quick goodbye and ducks into a space behind a floral curtain in the back.
That was odd.
She looked pretty emotional, but I can’t get over her cryptic words—not to mention her far more cryptic thoughts.
Madeline was having an affair with Lad Warner.
And what did she mean by “it was his time to go”?
Lad was in his prime. He was seemingly healthy.
Perhaps if I saw her drinking tonight I could have excused her bizarre inner dialogue, but she didn’t have a sip from what I could tell.
No. Something is very, very off about her. I just don’t know what.
I do my best to collect Emily and Macy as I schlep all three of our canvases while herding us back out into the street.
“Hello, Edison!” Macy shouts at the top of her lungs into the darkened sky and a few cars give a honk of approval. Or disapproval. Take your pick. I’ll go with the positive vibe for now.
Emmie jumps up onto a stack of trash bags set out front as if she were climbing a mountain.
“Hey, Edison!” Emmie shouts. “I hear you’re the bad boy of New England!”
“Here we go,” I mutter to myself as I give Em a yank and she practically falls into my arms, sending all three canvases in my arms sprawling over the sidewalk.
“Bizzy,” Macy shrieks at the top of her lungs and some nebulous being shouts for us to keep it down. “You’re ruining my art!”
“Your art is fine,” I say, collecting the slightly smeared canvases that loosely qualify as art as she put it. “Let’s get in the car.”
“I don’t
want to get in the car,” Macy bellows with all her might as if I were standing on the moon.
Macy and Emmie sing a few verses of our favorite country song—out of tune, but admittedly it doesn’t sound so bad—and I’m half-tempted to join them.
And in a fit of solidarity to sweeter days gone by, I toss my inhibitions to the wind, albeit without the aid of a good glass of vino, and I belt out a few verses with them. Just as we’re getting to the chorus, the whoop of a siren goes off and stuns us into submission.
To my horror a sheriff’s cruiser pulls up alongside us and out steps Deputy Leo Granger looking more than amused as he recognizes us.
“What do you want?” Macy exaggerates every word like only the belligerent can.
“I’m here to see the show.” He sheds his signature wicked grin. Leo always looks as if he’s in on some deep, dark secret, and in my case, he most certainly is.
Macy looks at Emmie. “You hear that? He’s here to see the show, girls. I say let’s give it to him!”
Emmie belts out a riotous laugh. “One—three!”
On three, both Emmie and Macy lift their sweaters, right along with their over-the-shoulder boulder holders, and within seconds Leo Granger informs us he has four very perky reasons to arrest us all for indecent exposure and disorderly conduct among a litany of other things.
In fact, he does just that.
And being the kind gentleman he is, he gives us a ride all the way to the Seaview Sheriff’s Department in the back of his cruiser.
It looks as if I’ll get to see Jasper tonight after all. That is, if he feels like visiting me in my holding cell.
Note to self: Macy and Emmie are no longer a part of my investigation squad.
Chapter 6
The sheriff’s department is located in the heart of downtown Seaview, and even this industrialized business district looks far more welcoming than anything Edison has to offer. A plethora of pink and red hearts hangs from every window and door. Love is in the air, all right, even right here at the sheriff’s department. Which seems fitting, considering the fact the love of my life works here.
Murder Bites Page 5