by Thea Cambert
Murder Paints a Picture
Rooftop Garden Cozy Mysteries, Book 9
Thea Cambert
Summer Prescott Books Publishing
Copyright 2020 Summer Prescott Books
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication nor any of the information herein may be quoted from, nor reproduced, in any form, including but not limited to: printing, scanning, photocopying, or any other printed, digital, or audio formats, without prior express written consent of the copyright holder.
**This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, places of business, or situations past or present, is completely unintentional.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Author’s Note
Contact Summer Prescott Books Publishing
Chapter 1
Dusk was just falling over Blue Valley—a small town nestled into the Tennessee Smoky Mountains—as Alice Maguire emerged from her bookshop, The Paper Owl, carrying her watering can. The brick planters that ran along the front of the building were overflowing with the colors of autumn, from the deep purple cabbages to the red marigolds and golden mums, not to mention the bountiful stacks of pumpkins and gourds, and the petunias that were beginning to spill down onto the sidewalk.
A chill wind blew down Main Street, sending a flurry of fall leaves scuttling down the sidewalk, and Alice back inside her warm, cozy store. A few customers still browsed the shelves, so Alice settled herself behind the counter and began tidying up and going over the day’s sales, as well as finishing the list of stock she needed to order.
“It’s getting cold outside!” Owen James slipped into the shop through the hidden bookcase door at the back.
Owen owned Sourdough, the bakery that was housed inside one third of Alice’s building, while Franny Brown-Maguire owned Joe’s, Blue Valley’s favorite coffee shop, which took up the other third. The Paper Owl sat right in the middle of the three shops, and the three friends lived in the small apartments on the second floor. A shared hallway ran along the back of all three shops, with a beautiful wooden staircase that led up to the apartments, and Alice loved that her own door to the hallway was also a functioning bookshelf.
“I know!” said Alice. “I was just out watering the planters. It was eighty degrees this afternoon, and now it’s freezing.”
“At least it finally feels like November,” said Owen. “And with Thanksgiving less than a week away, fall has arrived just in time.”
“Don’t remind me,” said Alice, who was going to be roasting her first turkey ever the following Thursday. That task normally fell to Alice’s mother, Bea, or to Granny Maguire, but both of them, along with their husbands, Martin and Chester, had decided on the spur of the moment to book passage on the Mississippi Queen—a luxury paddlewheel ship—over the holiday, and they’d invited Franny’s parents, Arthur and Pippin Brown, to go along with them. Now the whole lot would be cruising from Memphis to New Orleans, with numerous stops along the way, and enjoying a ‘Down South Cajun Thanksgiving Feast’ on Thursday.
“Don’t worry, Alice,” said Owen, reading her thoughts. “You’re going to do fine with that turkey. And on the off chance you ruin it, fear not: I’m a brilliant baker. I’ll make up for it with my sausage and sourdough dressing!”
“And we’re not stuffing that into the turkey, right?”
“Nope. Then it would be stuffing. Not dressing. Get with the program, Alice,” Owen said with a snort. “Where’s Franny? I have a surprise for you two.”
“Right here!” Franny walked through the wide cased opening that stood between The Paper Owl and Joe’s.
The previous fall, Franny had married Alice’s brother, Blue Valley Police Captain Ben Maguire. But long before they were sisters-in-law, Alice and Franny had been dear friends. They’d met in middle school, when Franny’s family had moved to Blue Valley. Back then, Franny could no more imagine marrying Alice’s big brother than Ben could imagine falling head over heels for his kid sister’s partner in crime. But to everyone’s delight, they’d tied the knot, and a few months ago, Franny and Ben—along with their extended families and numerous friends—had welcomed Theodore Owen Maguire into the world. The same Theo who was now sleeping soundly in the baby sling Franny wore.
“What’s our surprise?” Alice asked, gently touching her sleeping nephew’s fuzzy head.
“Well, as you know, Martin and I have been taking that photography class taught by the famous Talbot White all week,” Owen began.
Martin Maguire, Alice and Ben’s dad, might as well have been Owen’s dad, too, because the two of them were always doing things together—and in fact, Owen was pretty well ensconced in the middle of the entire Maguire family. He’d taken ballroom dance classes with Granny, baked Maguire family specialties with their mother, Bea, and gone on regular birdwatching expeditions with Martin. When Ben and Franny had bestowed Owen’s name on their son, the deal was officially sealed. In addition, Alice was engaged to local detective Luke Evans, who was Ben’s good friend and colleague at the BVPD, and Luke had become fast friends with Owen and Franny as well. So, the family was expanding in a most wonderful way.
After Owen had paused for dramatic effect, he continued. “Tomorrow, since the photography class is coming to an end, we’re going on a field trip, and you’re both invited to join us!”
Alice and Franny looked at each other.
“A fieldtrip? On a Saturday?” said Alice. “I don’t know. There will be tons of tourists in town with the Fall Into Art Festival kicking off tomorrow. I’d have to get Lacie and Zack to watch the store . . .”
“And I’d have to get Ben to keep Theo,” said Franny doubtfully.
“Where is this fieldtrip to, anyway?” asked Alice.
“Hemlock House,” said Owen, a smug smile on his face.
“Hemlock House? Up in the mountains above town?” asked Alice, perking up.
“As in, the same Hemlock House that’s been featured in every home and garden magazine in the nation?” asked Franny, eyes widening.
“Oh, we are so going on that fieldtrip with you,” said Alice. “My favorite painting of all time hangs there!”
“I know,” said Owen, nodding. “Woman at Café with Book, by Gabriel Toussaint.”
“You remind me of her—the woman at the café.” A silver-haired man who’d been browsing the shop approached the counter and looked at Alice with piercing blue eyes. “Pardon me for eavesdropping,” he said with a smile. “Your red hair. Your pale complexion. And look—you’re even holding a book.”
Alice glanced down at the book in her hand. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said. “Are you in town for the art festival?”
“Yes.” He took out a crisp white business card and handed it to Alice. “I am Ian Foster. I own the Foster Gallery in Chicago. I’m also a collector. And I would love to add that Toussaint to my collection.”
The woman Ian had come into the store with walked up and laid a small stack of books on the counter.
“Meet Ella Page,” Ian said proudly. “I’ve just discovered her—literally since I arrived here in Blue Valley this morning. We ran into each other at the inn where we’re both staying.” He looked with unmasked adoration at Ella, a slight, beautiful woman who looked to be in her fifties. “We happened
to be checking in at the same time.”
“The Valley Inn?” asked Alice. “Then you’re in for a nice visit.”
The Valley Inn, owned by Samuel and Eve Berkley, was one of Blue Valley’s finest lodging options, with acres of trees, a pond, and excellent food served in a cozy dining room that featured a gorgeous stone fireplace.
“It’s just beautiful there,” Ella said. “I could move in and stay forever!” She smiled coyly at Ian. “And what a wonderful surprise, that the great Ian Foster just happened to be staying at the same inn!”
“I call that serendipity,” said Ian, turning to Ella. “I’m a lover of the impressionists. And you are a modern-day Toussaint.” He looked back at Alice. “You never know where you’ll uncover genius.”
“Please, Ian, you’re embarrassing me,” said Ella, cheeks pinkening. She smiled at Alice, Owen, and Franny. “It’s a lovely town you have here. I’ve been driving all around the area, painting what I see.”
“Really? I’d love to see your work, Ms. Page,” said Alice.
“I’m doing an exhibit at the festival. Come find me in the big tent at the park. And please, call me Ella.”
Alice rang up the books and handed them over with a smile.
“Back to the Valley Inn for dinner, my dear?” Ian asked.
Ella nodded and took Ian’s arm, and they left the shop, looking cozy together, even in the chill of the evening.
“Enjoy your stay in Blue Valley!” Alice called after them.
The bells above the door jingled again, and Ben and Luke walked in. Ben kissed Franny’s cheek and Theo’s little head, and Luke walked over to Alice and wrapped his arms around her.
“We’re going to need to build a fire upstairs tonight,” he said. “Temperature’s dropping out there.”
The building’s upstairs consisted of three cozy apartments which shared a large rooftop garden. When Alice, who was the first of the three friends to move in over her shop, had seen the barren rooftop beyond the French doors in her little bookshelf-lined living room, she’d envisioned pots overflowing with flowers, trellises covered in vines, small trees in large planters, and twinkle lights everywhere. The garden that now existed was the result of the friends collaborating to create a haven above Main Street—and many of the other downtown shop owners had followed suit and created rooftop sanctuaries of their own. Each one was unique, and at night, when the lights that outlined the tops of the buildings flickered on, it was beautiful to look across the horizon and take in the full effect of the gracious, old edifices, crowned with lights and plants and life.
A while back, Owen had had the brilliant presence of mind to add a small fire ring to the rooftop garden, so that the friends could sit outside and enjoy a hot cup of cocoa or glass of wine even on chilly evenings.
“I brought a little load of firewood over from the lake,” said Ben.
“Perfect,” said Alice. “My last customers just left. I’m closing up.”
“Ben, how about if you and Theo have some male-bonding time tomorrow morning?” said Franny.
“Sure. We can watch the game. Throw back a few beers. Practice our loud burping.”
“Come over to the cabin,” said Luke. “I’ll grill burgers. Owen? You in?”
“No, he is not in,” said Alice taking Owen’s arm. “He’s going with us. Or rather, we’re going with him.”
“You are? Where?” asked Ben, looking back and forth between his sister and his wife.
“On a photography class field trip,” said Franny. “To Hemlock House.”
“On a—wait, is this the photography class Dad and Owen are taking?” asked Ben.
“Yep,” said Alice.
“But you’re not even in the class!” said Ben.
“Doesn’t matter,” said Alice. “We have connections.”
“That’s right,” said Owen. “But save me one of those burgers for later,” he added.
Luke lived in a cozy cabin on the banks of Blue Lake. Shortly after moving to town, he’d bought the place that lay just through the trees via a trail from Ben’s house. When Ben and Franny had married, they’d been unable to choose between the lake house, with its huge trees and glistening water view, and the charming little apartment above Joe’s. In the end, they’d chosen to use both, and tended to stay out at the lake during the week, and in the Main Street apartment on weekends and festival days. It was handy that the lake and the heart of town were only ten minutes apart, and that the police station was only half a block from the coffee shop, so both locations were equally convenient.
To add to everyone’s joy, Owen had purchased the beautiful old cottage that lay just around the arc of the lake from Luke’s cabin. He’d been lovingly renovating the place for the past few months, and was moving in just in time for the holidays. So, the friends were to be neighbors whether at the lake or in town, and that suited everyone just fine.
“What’s so great about Hemlock House?” asked Ben.
“Is this that mansion up the mountain between here and Runesville?” asked Luke.
“Yes. It’s breathtaking,” said Franny. “I’ve always wanted to see the inside.”
“And I’ll get to see my favorite painting of all time,” said Alice.
“Really?” asked Luke, turning to his fiancé. “Which one is that?”
“It’s called Woman at Café with Book. I’ve never seen it in person, of course. I read years ago that Bernard Astor—the man who owns Hemlock House—had bought it and hung it there. Since then, I’ve been hoping that somehow, I’d get to go and see it, and just stand and look at it for a while.”
“And now you will,” sang Owen.
“What’s so special about the painting?” asked Luke.
“Well, the artist, Gabriel Toussaint, was one of the impressionists,” said Alice. “He lived around Giverny, France in the time of the greats, like Claude Monet. It is said that when viewed in person, you’ll see that his paintings have a luminosity about them that can’t be captured in photographs. This particular painting was one of Toussaint’s earlier works, and it features a woman sitting at a sunny sidewalk café, reading a book.”
“And she has red hair,” added Owen, pointing at Alice’s red curls.
“Sounds beautiful,” said Luke, grinning at Alice. “Maybe you could snap a picture of it for me.”
“No one’s supposed to bring a camera except for Talbot,” said Owen. “He’s been invited by the Astor family to do a shoot of the painting for Good Impressions magazine. It’s a series of articles about famous paintings and the people who own them.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re in a photography class, but you can’t take any photos?” asked Ben.
“Well, Talbot’s going to teach us how to photograph works of art. Apparently there’s more to it than pointing and shooting,” said Owen. “Martin and I signed up for the class to be able to take better shots of the birds we come across, but we’re learning all kinds of things.”
“So, who all is in the class?” asked Franny. “Other than you and Martin, I mean.”
“Let’s see. There’s Norman McKenzie. Photography’s one of his hobbies. And then Jane Elkin. She wants to be able to take better photos for the Blue Valley Post. Ethel Primrose from the Heritage Museum is in the class. She wants to be able to improve on the museum’s social media and promotional photos. And the only out-of-towner is Mia Bly. She’s a fine artist looking to learn photography. She’s with a group of artists who are coming into town for the art festival from Memphis. Mia came a week ahead of the others to take Talbot’s class, but the rest of them arrived today. They’re going to be selling their paintings in one of the festival booths. They stopped by the class today and we met them. A very likeable little group of ladies. Well, all except for one. Lee-somebody. She was a real piece of work.”
“What do you mean?” asked Alice, locking the front door and turning over the closed sign.
“She strikes me as one of those people with a perpetual chip on the
ir shoulder,” said Owen. “But Mia is a really sweet young woman. Anyway, that’s who’s in the class. Talbot said he’s also bringing a friend of his who’s a big fan of Toussaint like you, Alice.”
“This is going to be such an adventure,” said Alice. “Hemlock House in the fall.” She let out a long, contented sigh.
“So, what brings the Astor family to town?” asked Ben. “Don’t they own like, seven mansions?”
“They came for the art festival,” said Owen. “That whole family is art-obsessed. Bernard and his wife Seraphina apparently also love the fall color here, and their grown children and their families are all coming down for Thanksgiving. I guess when they were picking which mansion to visit for the holiday, the fact that Blue Valley is hosting an art-based event gave us an edge.”
“I’ve never heard a negative word about the Astors,” said Alice. “They built that house many years ago. They’re rarely in town, but people around here think well of them.”
“Well, all of them except for Bernard’s first wife,” said Owen. “Rumor has it she was a real witch.”
“Ainsley Lansford-Astor,” said Alice, nodding. “I’ve heard that, too. But she’s supposed to be a great artist. That’s why Bernard married her, apparently. But where the second wife, Seraphina, is said to be kind and generous, Ainsley is snotty and moody and very, very dramatic.”
“The proverbial artist,” said Franny. “Brilliant but hard to live with.”
Just then, Theo woke up and began to gurgle.
“I love it when he makes that little sound,” said Owen.
“Me too,” said Franny. “But unfortunately, that cute little sound is usually followed by a very insistent demand for food.”