by Ellery Adams
“So what do they do with it?” Jon asked.
“Sometimes the paintings go to ground for years until the climate is less risky. Often times, they find an art collector who will take it for his personal collection.”
Jon chuckled. “Dax doesn’t have those kinds of connections.”
“Loretta traveled in different circles than Dax. She may have had a buyer for the painting,” Trish said.
“Are you saying Loretta stole the painting?” Jon asked.
“It’s an angle we’ve been looking at,” Trish said. “She could have hired someone at the inn to do the job. It would make sense, wouldn’t it?”
“Sure. An inside job,” Jon said.
“Especially if Loretta was broke, as we have confirmed,” Cooper said
Jon looked around the table at Trish, Savannah, and Cooper. “Has your Bible study ever thought about hanging a private eye shingle?”
“Don’t give Cooper any ideas,” Trish said.
The conversation halted as two gaily dressed servers delivered their meals.
“This looks amazing,” Mona said.
“Do you mind if I say a quick prayer?” Savannah asked.
“Oh, honey, you go right ahead,” Angela said. She grabbed Jon’s hand and grinned.
“Lord, thank you for this meal and guide us in our endeavors. Amen.”
A chorus of ‘amen’ sounded around the table.
“So how do we sniff out an art thief?” Cooper asked as she placed her napkin on her lap.
“By offering him a deal too good to be true,” Mona said. “I’d be interested in helping in any way that I can. Do you think your friend Mindy would allow me to look at the painting?”
“It’s been authenticated.”
“Oh, yes, I understand. I’d like to see it to satisfy my curiosity. These are very early Deveraux works, and I’d like to be able to tell my colleagues I saw one. They’ll be very envious.” She shook her head. “I certainly hope the other painting is recovered. Maybe we can come up with a plan to do that.”
“Mona, those words are music to my ear. I’ll call Mindy when I get home and arrange a time.”
Cooper dug into her chile relleno with gusto. Finally, they were making some progress on the case.
Chapter Twelve
“Have you had enough to eat, Cooper?” Maggie asked. “There’s plenty of biscuits.” Her mother wiped her hands on a dish towel and headed into the laundry room.
“No, thanks, Mama. I’ve already had two. I’m going to finish this bacon and head to work. I’ve got to get there early. Mondays are always busy.”
Across the table, Earl studied the newspaper cryptogram. “Daddy, you’re good at puzzles.”
“I try. What’s up?”
“This situation with Atwood Inn. This is probably the simplest case we’ve ever looked into. There are so few people involved, yet I can’t get a handle on things. Who killed Loretta Atwood? Who stole the painting? What am I missing?”
“Cooper, I’m going to guess that you’re overthinking things. Take a break. Let your mind work on something else, and it will figure the puzzle out for you when you aren’t looking.”
“Maybe you’re right.” When Popeye marched up to the breakfast table, his nails clicking on the floor, Cooper offered a small piece of bacon to the pug.
“I saw that.” Maggie sailed into the room with a basketful of dry towels. “You know you aren’t supposed to table-feed that dog.”
“Grammy does it all the time,” Cooper said.
Maggie raised her brows as she put the basket on a kitchen chair. “Do not use your grandmother as your yardstick.”
Cooper laughed. “Where is our favorite rule-breaker?”
“She left early with Frank,” her mother said. “There’s some special fundraiser going on at the rescue this week.”
Cooper reached over to the basket of towels and started folding them alongside her mother. “That reminds me. Jon has gotten my birdhouses into a gift shop in downtown Richmond. It’s a consignment shop, and the owner donates her percentage to the Audubon Society.”
“Why, Cooper. That’s a wonderful place for your birdhouses.” Maggie put a red gingham hand towel on the kitchen table and then placed its twin on top of it.
“I do believe that young man is courting you, Cooper Lee,” Earl said.
“No. Do not say that, Daddy. The last thing I need is to be courted.” She looked at him. “Courted. Who says that nowadays?”
Earl folded the newspaper and carefully removed his reading glasses. “Would you prefer I say that fellow is wooing you?”
Cooper cringed. “Wooing? I’m not sure what that means.”
“It means that you aren’t dating, but he’s doing his best to get your attention and keep you thinking about him,” Maggie interjected.
“Like those peacocks in Mrs. Dover’s yard when they set out to impress the peahens,” Earl said. “The peacock spreads their iridescent blue tail feathers, fanning them out as they strut back and forth, shaking the feathers until they rattle.”
“I cannot believe I am hearing this.” Cooper looked back and forth between her parents, appalled. “Jon is neither wooing nor courting nor anything else.”
“If you say so,” Earl said with a laugh.
Cooper stood and grabbed another piece of bacon. She rounded the table and planted a kiss on each of her parent’s cheeks. “I have to go, or I’ll be late for work.”
• • •
When she got to the office, Angela had her weekly fresh roses on the counter and a smile on her face as she dealt with the morning phone calls. She waved to Cooper, and Cooper waved back, but she kept going to her office, where she closed the door. After the discussion with Maggie and Earl this morning, she was not looking forward to Angela’s thoughts on Jon. That conversation, she realized, was inevitable, but she’d do her best to delay it.
A knock at her door had Cooper groaning. “Come in.”
The door opened, and Ben peeked inside and looked around. “You okay?”
“Fine, why?”
“You never close your door.” He came in and dropped into the chair in front of her desk.
“I’m fine,” she repeated. “What’s up?”
“Have you thought about what you’re getting Mr. Farmer and Angela? I mean, a wedding present?”
“Angela is registered at half a dozen shops in Richmond. Look at the back of the invitation, and you’ll see the link.”
“Whew, okay, that’s a relief. I haven’t been to a wedding in a long time. Guess I’m out of the loop.” He glanced at the clock above Cooper’s bookshelf. “We have an executive staff meeting in five minutes.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” Cooper scooped up the files on her desk. A staff meeting would keep her out of Angela’s crosshairs for at least an hour.
“That’s the first time I’ve seen anyone happy about one of Mr. Farmer’s meetings.”
She nodded toward the door. “Nine a.m. and it’s already been one of those days. Let’s go, and don’t let anyone stop me until we get to the conference room.”
“Cooper,” Angela called out as they passed the front desk.
“Important meeting,” Ben said, shielding Cooper with his bulky body.
By the end of the hour, Cooper was pinching herself to stay awake as Mr. Farmer droned on about profitability margins, earning estimates, and the third quarter fiscal forecast. When he dismissed them, she raced into the hallway, smack dab into Angela’s bosom.
“Oomph. Oh, sorry, Angela.”
“We need to talk,” Angela said. She crooked a finger with a long, fire-red enameled fingernail. “Follow me to my office.”
“You don’t have an office.”
“I do now.” Angela circled the desk and opened the door to the company’s tiny supply room and grinned. “I told Mr. Farmer that I need a place where I can talk to vendors uninterrupted. Then I demanded that he stop talking about hiring me an assistant and just do it. I told
him I need someone on the phones in the afternoon if he wants me to continue to handle scheduling for both departments along with the vehicle fleet.”
Cooper looked at the transformed space. Sure, it was small, but it had a desk with a computer set up and two chairs across from the desk. More important was that the décor seemed unusually restrained for a woman channeling Marilyn Monroe.
“When did you do this?” she asked.
“Not me. Mona and I did it over the weekend.”
Mona. That explained the distinct lack of hot pink, faux diamonds, and leopard print.
“We painted the walls and went shopping for the desk and chairs on Saturday. Don’t you love it?” She nodded to the corner behind her desk. “There’s even a little doggie bed for Betty Boop when she comes in for the day.”
“I’m so impressed. This is very professional,” Cooper said. “Where are the supplies?”
“Mr. Farmer ordered a freestanding closet for the conference room. It will arrive later today.”
“Congratulations on your new office. When does your assistant start?”
“Tomorrow. I want to train her so she can take over when Mr. Farmer and I leave on our honeymoon.”
“You’re taking a honeymoon? That’s great.”
“Uh-huh. We’re going to the most romantic city on earth for an entire week. We’ve got the honeymoon suite booked.”
“Paris?” Cooper wasn’t much of a traveler, but she vowed someday she would eat her way through France.
“No, Niagara Falls, silly. I’ve wanted to go there all my life. We’re going to ride the Maid of the Mist, and stay in that fancy new hotel on the Canadian side. Oh, and I got tickets to the Movieland Wax Museum special tour. Plus, there’s an Elvis impersonator dinner show too. We have reservations for the front row.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
Angela grinned. Then she leaned close to Cooper. “When are we going to talk about your boyfriend?”
“My what?” Cooper clutched the files in her hands to her chest.
“You know—that adorable chef. I like him a lot, and he’s so into you. What a sweetheart he is.”
When Cooper’s cell phone began to ring, she offered up a silent prayer of thanks. “It’s Mindy Atwood. I better take the call. It might be about your wedding reception.”
“Of course, yes. I’ll chat with you later.”
Cooper answered the phone as she headed to her office.
“Cooper?”
“Hi, Mindy. What a coincidence. I was just going to call you. An art curator friend of mine wanted to know if you’d allow her to see the remaining Deveraux.”
“Of course. Any friend of yours. The thing is, I got a call from Officer Olson this morning. Someone tried to sell the painting.”
“What?” Cooper closed the door to her office. “Tell me the details.”
“I don’t have them yet. He’s coming by to talk to me in about an hour.”
“Are you okay?” Cooper asked.
“Yes. Maybe even better than okay. This means the painting is still in Richmond.”
“Why don’t I bring Mona, that’s her name, by right after work? Is that convenient?”
“Anything is convenient. I’m sitting here in an empty bed-and-breakfast with no guests. I’m thrilled to have visitors.”
“If it’s company you’d like, I can bring that too. I’ll see which members of the Bible study are free to join us tonight. I know we’ve got a few questions anyhow.”
“Okay, Cooper. See you then.”
The moment Cooper disconnected, her phone lit up with an incoming call from Ashley.
“Ash, how was the funeral?”
“Let this be a lesson to all of us. Mean people don’t have friends. The only guests at the remembrance, that’s what they call it when you don’t have a church service, were Mindy and me, of course. Then there was Alice, Alice’s friend, and a man who delivered a short generic eulogy.”
“Alice didn’t speak?”
“No.” Ashley sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, poor Alice was very upset, but no one could muster up a kind word for Loretta.”
“That’s so sad.” Cooper paused. “Ashley, who was the friend?”
“She didn’t sign the guest book, and I could not bring myself to take her picture at a funeral, Cooper.”
“Describe Alice’s friend for me.”
“That I can do. Very nondescript. Petite, with mousy brown hair. She was even dressed in brown. I don’t think she wore a lick of makeup. I’d say she was around thirty-one or -two.”
“Helen Everett.”
“Okay, now you have the details. I’d like to discuss Angela’s present from Mr. Farmer. I have a list.”
“Could you email it to me and I’ll get back to you?”
“Sure.” Cooper heard papers rustling. “Just remember that we’re running out of time. We have a wedding in ten days.”
“I know. I heard the ticking bomb.”
“No need to be so dramatic. Weddings are a beautiful thing. Oh, and do not forget to pick up your dress at the bridal shop this week, please.”
“I will.” She’d pick up the dress and peek in at the gift shop that wanted to sell her birdhouses. There was nothing like killing two birds with one stone. Cooper leaned back in her chair and smiled.
• • •
Trish stepped up to the front desk and looked around. “This is sort of weird being back here.”
“Why?” Jake asked. “Nothing happened at the inn . . . except the painting going missing. I have nothing but good thoughts about this place. Especially the food.”
“Yes, but I agree with Trish. Now that we know all the dynamics, it is weird,” Savannah said.
“Where’s Mindy?” Cooper asked. She and Mona took off their damp raincoats and hung them on the coatrack in the front hall.
“Mindy was here when Jake and I arrived. She went to grab her cell phone,” Savannah said.
A moment later, Mindy appeared, just as the reception desk phone rang. She reached for the receiver. “Yes, ma’am, we’ll be opening soon. Why don’t you check back in a week? Thank you so much.”
“That must be frustrating,” Cooper said.
“Very. I have old friends of both my father and my mother, people whose families grew up in this inn, anxious to book a room. Summer should be our busiest time.”
Behind the group at the desk, the front doors opened, and Bryant came in, shaking rain off himself. He closed an enormous Channel Six News umbrella and left it in the umbrella stand. “It’s pouring out there. That meteorologist missed the mark today.” He chuckled. “Kidding, folks. Forecasting is an inexact science, but I predicted this storm to the minute. It should pass on through in about an hour.”
“I guess we’re all here.” Cooper assessed the group that consisted of Mona, Bryant, Trish, Savannah, Jake, and Mindy. “Quinton had a stockholder’s meeting.”
“I’m here too if you’re doing a head count.”
Cooper turned at the sound of Jon’s voice. He approached from the kitchen area and offered a smile. “Mindy mentioned that my favorite Bible study would be stopping by.”
Trish nudged her and whispered, “He means you.”
Cooper ignored her and stepped forward. “I don’t think all of you have met Mona Lister. She’s a new friend. We’re both standing up for a wedding together. Anyhow, Mona is an art curator—”
“Assistant art curator,” Mona said with a smile.
“Still, she knows more about art than most of us.” Cooper completed the introductions and turned to Mindy.
“Shall we go upstairs to see the painting?” Mindy asked. “Jon, would you lock the front door, please?”
As they headed to the library, Jake took Savannah’s arm and assisted her up the stairs.
Cooper was nearly to the landing when lightning flashed at the windows and a loud boom echoed, rocking the inn. When she stumbled, Jon took her arm. “Careful, there,” he said quietly.
“This is quite a dramatic setting, isn’t it?” Savannah said. “Shades of ‘it was a dark and stormy night.’”
Nervous laughter tittered through the group. Though Cooper chuckled, she was feeling far more unsettled than amused by the storm raging outside.
Thankfully, the library was lit up and the old schoolhouse hanging fixtures filled the room with a rosy glow. The scene reminded Cooper of the setting of a gothic novel.
Mona stepped forward and slipped on her glasses. “Ms. Atwood, this painting is stellar. Very representative of Deveraux’s Somerset period, as I mentioned to the folks at our meeting on Sunday.” She pointed to a tiny dot of paint in the lower left corner. “This is number three of the series.”
“It’s numbered? The gentleman who authenticated the painting didn’t mention that.”
“Only a Deveraux fan would appreciate such details. Your missing painting is number four.”
“Where are one and two?” Savannah asked.
“Those paintings are also privately owned,” Mona said
“Mindy, do you mind sharing what Detective Olson told you?” Cooper asked.
Mindy gestured to the two circular study tables in the library, and the group sat down. “As I told Cooper, Detective Olson called this morning to say someone had attempted to sell the painting. The odd thing was, when he came to see me later he spoke to me as though I was the person who tried to sell the painting. The conversation was unnerving.”
“You?” Jon looked at her. “Why would he think it was you?”
“He showed me surveillance video on his phone. It was a woman, and she entered the shop and spoke to the owner. She was very careful to keep her face away from the cameras, as though she knew where they were positioned, and she wore a hooded raincoat. If you remember, it was sprinkling on and off this morning.”
“Was the man able to describe her?”
“Not in detail. ‘Ordinary’ was all he said.”
“Ms. Ordinary brazenly walked in there to sell a painting?”
“Not quite that bold,” Mindy said. “According to the dealer, who is a little shady himself, she suggested that she knew someone with a Deveraux. She left a contact number, which leads to a burner phone that has been turned off.”