Ghost in the Gallery

by Kathi Daley

  “She didn’t mention the missing paintings to us last night.”

  “She said she avoided the topic since there were people everywhere, but according to what she told me this morning, the artist wasn’t even upset. She expected him to be furious and thought that he would pull his work from the last day of the exhibit, but Elena was able to convince him that the pieces were most likely simply misplaced rather than missing, and he believed her.”

  “That’s so odd,” I slipped onto one of the barstools lining the counter.

  “It really is,” Georgia agreed.

  “Bloomfield’s pieces are worth a lot of money. You’d think he would have been frantic.”

  Georgia set a dish to soak in the sink. “That’s what Nikki thought when she realized the pieces were missing and asked the man about it. She said he was very casual about the whole thing. He’d spoken to Elena, who’d assured him they simply had a prankster on the property, and the paintings would show up. It makes no sense to me that the guy would be so casual about the whole thing unless he had reason to believe that the paintings really had just been misplaced.”

  “I suppose he might believe the hype that’s been circling around about the ghost in the gallery and the mischief the ghost is creating at night.”

  “I guess.”

  “I wonder if other pieces at the gallery were moved around but not taken on Friday night.”

  “Nikki said yes,” Georgia responded. “The really odd thing is that the security cameras don’t show a thing. Nikki told me that Elena has gone over them numerous times and swears that there is zero evidence that anyone had gained access to the building.”

  Between my late-night visitor, and the strange things going on at the gallery, I was tempted to believe Holiday Bay was undergoing a specter invasion.

  “I was thinking about making individual pot pies since it will just be the four of us for dinner tonight,” Georgia said, breaking into my thoughts.

  “Four of us?”

  “You and I, Alaric Banning, and Ainsley Holloway. Alaric is in town interviewing Jasmine’s granddaughter, Naya, this morning, but he assured me he’d be back in time for the evening meal, and I spoke to Ainsley Holloway, the woman checking in today, and she also assured me she’d be joining us for dinner. The inn will be otherwise empty.”

  “What about Jeremy and Annabelle?” I asked.

  “They’re going to have dinner with Mylie, Christy, Noah, and Haley.”

  Mylie was Jeremy’s girlfriend, Christy was Mylie’s best friend and roommate, Haley was Christy’s daughter, and Noah was Christy’s fiancé.

  “So tell me about Ainsley,” I said, refilling my coffee mug. Georgia had a knack for getting each guest’s life story out of them when they made their reservation.

  “I don’t know a lot. She said she was coming to the area to do some research, but she didn’t go into detail. I guess we can ask her about it tonight. I’m also anxious to hear what Alaric has to say after his interview with the granddaughter of his great-grandfather’s business partner.”

  “Did he provide any updates over the weekend?”

  “No,” Georgia answered. “Both the newspaper office and library were closed. The museum was open on Saturday, and he did mention heading over to see what he could find, but we had a busy weekend with the wine tasting and full inn, so I didn’t have a chance to ask him about it. Again, we’ll see if we can get an update this evening at dinner.”

  I slipped off the stool and stood. Taking my mug to the dishwasher, I slipped it inside. “Is Jeremy upstairs cleaning?”

  “He’s out in the garden. I guess there was some damage after the wine tasting that he wanted to take care of right away.”

  I turned in the direction of the back door. “I guess I’ll go out and check in with him.”

  Ramos, who’d been lying on the floor near where Georgia was working, lifted his head when I’d said the word out, so I called both dogs and headed outside. One of the risks we took when hosting large outdoor events was damage to the garden, but Jeremy was a pro when it came to setting things to rights.

  “Hey, Jeremy,” I said, walking the dogs along the narrow cement pathway.

  “Abby.” He’d been bending over but stood up tall when I approached. “Beautiful day today.”

  I looked around at the red, orange, and yellow trees, framed by the deep blue sky. “It’s just about a perfect day. Warm, but not hot. Sunny, but not intense. Perfect.”

  Jeremy nodded his agreement.

  “Georgia said we have some damage,” I said as he returned to fixing the sprinkler that had been broken off.

  “A few broken sprinklers, a shrub or two with broken branches, and a bit of trash left behind. Not too bad, except for the pumpkins.”

  “Pumpkins?” I asked.

  “Looks like some kids decided to take sticks to the ones we’d set up for the patch for next weekend. Quite a few were broken. We’ll need to replace them.”

  “I’ll go,” I offered. “You look busy here, and Georgia is baking.”

  “That would be a big help,” Jeremy admitted.

  “I’ll call Lacy and see if she wants to go with me. It’s such a gorgeous day, I might even go out to the pumpkin farm and pick my own.”

  “They had a good selection the last time I was out there, but that was a week ago, so they might be picked over by now. We’re going to need a bunch — at least several wagons full. Get what you can, and if we’re short, I’ll see if I can get some from the farmers market.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Luckily for me, not only did Lacy want to come with me to the pumpkin farm, but she also volunteered to pick me up in Lonnie’s truck, so we’d have plenty of room for as many gourds as we wanted to buy. Lacy was the wife of Lonnie Parker, the man who turned the run-down mansion I’d purchased into a gorgeous inn. Lonnie had come over almost every day to work on the remodel for months on end, and Georgia and I had become good friends with both Lonnie and Lacy, as well as their six children. In fact, I can honestly say that after having them in my life for the past two years, I considered them family.

  “The timing of your call was perfect,” Lacy said after she picked me up, and we were driving toward the pumpkin farm. “Lonnie is home today working on a bid for a remodel on an apartment building that won’t even start until next summer, so he volunteered to pick the kids up from daycare and school. Since I’m relieved of pick up duty, we can take as long as we need to gather as many pumpkins as we decide to pick up. Personally, I’d like to buy around twenty pumpkins of various sizes to blend in with the interior and exterior decorations I’ve already set out.”

  “Do your kids each carve their own pumpkin?” I wondered. Six jack-o’-lanterns would be quite the project.

  “They do,” Lacy nodded her head of short curls that framed her face. “But the carving pumpkins are picked as a family, with each of the six children choosing their own. Lonnie and I will make another trip to the pumpkin farm with the kids when Halloween gets closer.”

  “They each took a pumpkin from the patch we set up at the inn last year during the Harvest Festival,” I reminded her.

  “That’s right. We did get the pumpkins from the inn last year. I do remember it as being easier, and the kids did have fun picking them out. Are you doing that again this year?”

  I nodded. “Which is why we need to make this trip in the first place. We purchased the pumpkins early this year to add some atmosphere for the wine tasting, but we believe some kids vandalized the patch. Next year, we’ll wait to set up the patch the week before the festival like we did last year.”

  Lacy turned off the highway onto a narrow country road leading out to the pumpkin farm. I rolled down my window, stuck my head out like a dog, and took a deep breath of the woody scent of smoke from the fire created by someone burning slash. I really did love this time of the year.

  “I’m sorry that Lonnie and I missed the wine tasting,” Lacy said as I angled my head back ins
ide the vehicle and rolled the window up. “Did you have a good turnout?”

  “We did. The weather was perfect, and the band Jeremy hired this year was really good. Twenty wineries were represented, which may have been too many since it seemed that there were folks who felt they had to taste wine from all twenty.”

  “Did Georgia take care of the catering?”

  “She did. And, of course, the food was a huge hit. The crew from Cooking with Georgia even came out and shot a short video, which I think they plan to air next week. Between the wine, food, gorgeous weather, and festive decorations, it really was a near-perfect day.”

  Lacy slowed as we neared the turnoff that would take us to the pumpkin farm. The parking area, which was usually packed on the weekends, was only about a quarter full today. Lacy parked near the front, and then we headed to the snack shack to pick up wagons, which could be loaded with the pumpkins we selected. Since we were each looking to buy a lot of pumpkins, I figured we’d need to make multiple trips, but it was a nice day, and we weren’t in a hurry, so I decided to just enjoy the experience and the time spent with one of my best friends.

  “So how was the exhibit at the gallery last night?” Lacy asked. “Lonnie and I talked about going, but it didn’t seem worth it to waste a babysitter on something like that since neither of us is really into art.”

  “It was interesting,” I said. “I enjoyed the fact that Nikki seemed to be so into it, but it was crowded, and the room was overly warm, so while I’m glad I went, it wasn’t a situation I’d look forward to repeating. Dinner with Colt, Georgia, and Tanner was nice. Maybe you and Lonnie should have met us at the restaurant.”

  “Maybe. But we had a nice time watching Halloween movies with the kids.” She bent down, picked up a perfectly round pumpkin, and set it in her wagon. “I did call Nikki to let her know we wouldn’t make it. She mentioned that the gallery seems to have a ghost who’s causing all sorts of problems.”

  “I’m not sure the gallery has a ghost, but it does seem like something odd is going on,” I responded, setting a gourd in my wagon. “According to Nikki, someone has been coming in at night and moving stuff around. I guess two pieces from Xander Bloomfield’s exhibit are even missing, but Elena has somehow managed to convince the guy that they’ll show up. Nikki said the guy didn’t even seem worried. She said he seemed to buy the idea about there being a ghost in the gallery who was a prankster but not a thief.”

  “Weird. I hear Bloomfield’s pieces sell for five figures. In fact, a friend of mine told me he’d recently sold a piece for fifty grand. Of course, this particular friend is a bit of a gossip, who rarely checks out the news she seems motivated to spread, so the fifty grand might not be true.” She held up a long narrow pumpkin. “I bet this would look awesome with big eyes and a round mouth.”

  “It would,” I agreed.

  “Doesn’t the gallery have a security system?” Lacy asked.

  “According to Nikki, they do, and the system doesn’t look to have been tampered with, nor has it gone off. She said that the gallery owner even looked at the security tapes, but didn’t see a thing. The situation is really odd.”

  “With all that valuable inventory, you’d think they’d hire a guard for the hours the gallery is closed,” Lacy said.

  “That would be a huge expense for such a small gallery, but it does seem they might have hired someone to keep an eye on things while Xander Bloomfield’s work was on the property. Whether his work is going for fifty grand or five grand, he is popular right now.”

  “I’ve seen his stuff, and I’m not a fan, but I have read about his sudden success,” Lacy agreed. “Wasn’t last night his last night at the gallery?”

  “I think so. Nikki said something about his exhibit being a weekend thing. Do you know if they have small pumpkins somewhere? Like really small. For a tabletop?”

  “They have small pumpkins in the shed at the front,” Lacy informed me. “They also sell cider and pie, and they usually have boxes of apples you can buy as well. We’ll stop when we take this load to the truck before coming back for load two.”

  I picked up a large pumpkin and put it in my wagon. “It looks like we’re getting pretty full. Let’s unload first and then grab some cider and look around inside.”

  We’d almost finished unloading our first wagons of pumpkins when Colt called. “Hey, Colt. What’s up?” I asked, trying to keep it light despite the fact his call only served to remind me of the awkwardness of the previous night.

  “Are you at the inn?” he asked.

  “No. Lacy and I are at the pumpkin farm. Why? What’s going on?”

  “I’m trying to get ahold of Nikki, but she isn’t answering her phone. I called the landline at the inn, but got the machine.”

  “When I left, Nikki was upstairs cleaning, Georgia was baking in the kitchen, but she might have taken the dogs out, and Jeremy was working in the yard. What’s going on? Why are you looking for Nikki?”

  “It’s about her friend, Damian.”

  “What’s going on with Damian?” I asked, hoping he hadn’t gotten himself into any trouble.

  “He’s dead.”

  “Dead?” I gasped. “Dead, how?”

  “Someone hit him over the head hard enough to kill him. His body was found this morning by the woman who cleans the art gallery. I guess they’re closed on Mondays, so his body wasn’t found until just a little while ago.”

  “Oh, God. Is there anything I can do?”

  “I really need to talk to Nikki. I’m going to try the inn again, but maybe you can try to get ahold of Georgia or Jeremy and have them tell Nikki to call me.”

  “I’ll head back to the inn now. Nikki should be told in person that the man she had a huge crush on was killed. It really isn’t the sort of message you want to receive over the phone. I’ll let her know what’s going on and then we can come to you. Are you at your office?”

  “I’m at the gallery, but I’m planning to head back to my office after I talk to Elena. Call me before you come into town, and we can work out the details.”

  I hung up and filled Lacy in. She agreed that someone should tell Nikki about the death of her friend in person, so we finished unloading the pumpkins we’d already paid for into the truck, returned the wagons, and headed back toward the inn.

  Chapter 4

  After we arrived at the inn, Lacy voiced her desire to head home while I escorted Nikki into town for a conversation with Colt. Since Lacy had driven me to the pumpkin patch and the pumpkins we’d already selected when Colt had called were now stored in the back of her truck, Jeremy helped her unload the pumpkins while I went inside in the hope of tracking down Nikki. As expected, Nikki was not only devastated to hear of Damian’s murder, but she was shocked to the point of disbelief.

  Nikki didn’t say much as I drove her toward town. It seemed that she was much too hysterical to do much of anything other than sob. Colt would need to go easy on her since the poor girl looked like she was on the verge of shattering into a million little pieces. Since Colt was a sensitive guy, I was sure I could count on him to realize that kid gloves were needed in this situation.

  When we arrived at his office, he showed us into the conference room where we found a table equipped with a large pitcher of water, three clean glasses, and a huge box of Kleenex.

  “What happened?” Nikki asked between sobs.

  “We don’t have all the details yet,” Colt answered. “The cleaning woman found Damian on the floor near the cargo door of the back storage room when she arrived today. There was a puddle of blood on the floor, and a deep gash on the back of his head. It looks like someone hit him from behind.”

  “Who would do such a thing?” she asked, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

  “We don’t know,” Colt answered. “There’s a lot we don’t know at this point, starting with an explanation as to why Damian would be at the gallery at three in the morning.”

  “Three in the morning
?” Nikki’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

  Colt nodded. “Based on the temperature and lividity of the body, the medical examiner has placed the time of death between two and four a.m.”

  “Why would Damian be at the gallery at that time of night?” Her brows furrowed. “The gallery was open until ten for the exhibit, but even if Damian stayed after to help clean up, he would have been done by midnight.”

  “I spoke to Elena Cromwell,” Colt informed Nikki and me. “She said that all the guests were gone and the gallery was locked up by ten-thirty. She, along with Damian and a woman named Liv Stein, stayed to clean up. They finished around eleven-thirty, decided to share a bottle of champagne to toast the success of the evening, and then all three left to go home no later than twelve-thirty. Elena said she is certain she checked all the locks as well as the security system when she left.”

  “Did Damian have the code to get in?” I asked.

  Colt shook his head. “Elena said no, but the security system was already disabled when the cleaning lady arrived, which is why she decided to take a look around in the first place. The back door leading from the storage room in the gallery to the back alley was closed, and it appeared that someone tried to lock it, but the lock is tricky, and it catches if you don’t know what you’re doing. Obviously, someone was with Damian in the gallery. At this point, we’re assuming the person who killed Damian went out the back door and left via the alley.”

  Nikki crossed her arms on the table in front of her, lowered her head to her arms, and sobbed. Colt glanced at me. I could tell by the look on his face that he’d decided to give her a minute.

  “When I was at the gallery on Friday, Nikki mentioned that someone was moving things around in the middle of the night. Do you think Damian was at the gallery to move items and pretend to be a ghost as someone has been doing for the past couple of weeks?” I asked Colt.