by Jessica Beck
“Can you make out the direction they were going in?” Grace asked me.
“I might be wrong, but ‘Greed’ and ‘Money’ look as though they were both heading toward ‘Bonnie Small,’ and then one veered off toward ‘Martin Lancaster,’ but finally, she wiped the lines out altogether. ‘Jealousy’ could have been toward any of them, but ‘Anger’ is absolutely toward ‘Galen.’”
“Okay, we’ll have to see why she changed her mind about matching people with motives. In the meantime, what about the numbers? They are the last things we need to consider, right?”
“As far as I can tell,” I said. “We’ve got ‘136,’ ‘054,’ ‘59,’ and I’m not sure if this last one is ‘104’ or ‘109.’ I don’t get what significance any of them have.”
“I don’t, either,” Grace said, “but then again, we’re just getting started.” She stood and stretched. “I’m not sure what else we’re going to get out of this right now. Do you need to rest before we go on?”
“No, I’m suddenly energized,” I said.
“So, where should we start?”
“It has to be Annabeth’s studio,” I said. “I know it’s in back of her old house, so it will give me a chance to speak with Alyssa while we’re there.”
“Then let’s go,” Grace said. She paused at the door and looked me over quickly. “You can change first.”
“What’s wrong with what I’ve got on?” I asked, glancing down at my normal wear, faded blue jeans and a T-shirt. Since it was chilly out, I’d added one of Jake’s faded flannel shirts for two reasons. One was that it really did add another layer of warmth, but it also made me feel as though he was close by and not hundreds of miles away.
“The clothes are fine. It’s the aroma that some folks might find questionable,” she said with a grin. “I don’t mean me, but some people.”
I had already gotten used to the smell of donuts on my clothes and in my hair, and the truth was that I hadn’t even noticed it. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready to roll.”
“You’re okay with me saying something about it, right?” she asked me tentatively.
“Hey, if your best friend can’t tell you that you stink, who can?” I asked, laughing.
“That’s not what I meant,” Grace said, “but it’s true enough.”
“What, that I stink?” I asked with a smile.
“No, that I’m your best friend, and you’re mine. Now go get cleaned up. Just being around you is making me hungry.”
I beat the ten-minute deadline by ninety seconds, and Grace and I were out the door and on our way to Annabeth’s studio, with a stop off at Alyssa’s place up front first so I could share my condolences firsthand. I wasn’t really looking forward to what was bound to be a hard scene to take, but I needed to do it, if nothing else, for my late friend. I felt in my heart that I owed her that much and more for all that she had given me over the years, and if she had indeed been murdered, I wanted to be the one who found her killer.
Chapter 8
As I drove us over to Alyssa’s house in my Jeep, I said, “I wish I had some donuts to take to the people we’re going to be talking to today.”
“So you sold out early,” Grace replied. “That’s a good thing, remember?”
“Of course it is,” I replied. “As much as I appreciated all of the sales, the support from the people in April Springs was what really counted with me.”
“But the influx in your bank account will be nice, too,” Grace added.
“No doubt,” I said as we neared Annabeth’s childhood home. I remembered when her father had built her a studio of her own in back when we’d started high school, something we had all been jealous of at the time. It was originally intended to be a hangout for Annabeth and the rest of us, a place for young teens to get away and still be close by, but Annabeth had decided from the very start that this would be her private space, restricted solely to her art. I had been one of her best friends, and I’d been inside it only twice in my life. She guarded that part of her world so closely that I felt honored to even be invited in at all.
“I’ve never seen her studio, at least not on the inside,” Grace said. “What’s it like?”
“It’s been a long time, but on my last visit, it was flooded with northern light, and there were half a dozen easels with works in progress on each of them. Annabeth liked to flit back and forth between projects back then. She claimed that it gave her perspective to give herself breaks. I expect it’s much the same now, despite her recent success.”
“She really was getting to be quite popular, wasn’t she?” Grace asked me.
“She placed her art all over the world, not to mention the success she had with her corporate logo business. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if she made millions.”
“Wow, that much? Who gets it all with her death? Is there any way it doesn’t all go to her mother?” Grace asked me.
“I have no idea, but the point is we don’t know, do we? The question is, how do we find out? I wonder if the will has been filed with the probate court yet.”
“We can swing by there after we talk to Alyssa if you’d like,” Grace suggested. “Or should we go now?”
“No, I need to see her right away before I lose my nerve.” I was dreading the visit, and I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. I still wasn’t sure what I was going to say to this woman who had so recently lost her daughter, but I hoped the words would find me when the time came. It had been my experience in the past that just showing up and offering my sympathies were the things that really mattered. What I said would soon be forgotten, but the important part, the part that showed them I cared, was always significant.
“Okay. I understand. Do you want me to wait in the car while you talk to her?”
I thought about Grace’s offer for a few moments before I answered. “Ordinarily I would say no, but I kind of feel this is something I need to do by myself. Do you mind?”
“No, there’s plenty for me to do here. I have my phone with me, so I can go online and do a little more digging while you’re talking to Alyssa. I want to know about Kerry Minter, and I can’t help wondering what Max and Sarah Flowers’s names are doing on that list. You and Alyssa make sense, but Max and Sarah? I don’t get those two.”
“Well, don’t get too wrapped up in your research. I shouldn’t be too long,” I said.
“Take all of the time you need,” Grace said as I pulled up in front of Annabeth’s childhood home. I knew that she had a place in town, a neat little condo that she claimed was perfect for her needs, but I had known her when she’d lived here as a girl, and that was where I thought of as her home. It was a quaint little place, barely big enough for the three of them when she and her father had been alive, but I was willing to bet it felt too large to Alyssa now that her husband and her daughter were both gone. What was left for her there now but memories and ghosts? If something happened to Jake, I wasn’t sure I could bear continuing to live in the cottage, even though I’d grown up there. The lingering presence of some memories would most likely be too much for me to take, though I hoped I never had the opportunity to find out what I’d do if something happened to my husband. It was a thought I could barely stand contemplating.
Alyssa answered my knock, and I could see instantly that she’d been crying, and very recently at that. “I’m sorry. I can come back later,” I said as I started to back out of the doorframe. Grace and I wanted to start our investigation immediately, but at what cost to this poor woman?
“No, it’s fine. Come in, Suzanne.” Her frame had always been lithe, but now she looked positively gaunt, and I wondered if she’d even been bothering to eat lately or getting more than a few hours of sleep a night.
I did as I was instructed, though, and walked inside. The house felt small to me, but that could have been because I hadn’t been in there for many years. Once we�
��d all grown up, there hadn’t been any reason for me to visit Alyssa anymore with Annabeth gone. The furniture was faded, and there was a distinct air of sadness to the place. Mounted over the piano—an ancient upright—there was a mini shrine to Annabeth’s childhood. I felt myself flashing back to when most of the photos had been taken. After all, I’d been such an integral part of her life back then that it astounded and saddened me now how much we’d drifted apart since school. We were still cordial, even friendly, but she and Grace and Trish and I had been so close that I wouldn’t have believed we’d ever be apart. That was one of the things time stole from us, though. It took work on everyone’s part to stay close, and with all of the distractions of being an adult, sometimes it was easier just to let things, and people, drift silently away. I vowed not to let that happen with Grace and Trish. I suddenly realized that I’d been staring at Annabeth’s youthful photos for a very long time. When I looked away from them to Alyssa, I said, “I’m sorry. These bring back a flood of memories for me. I can’t believe how close we once were. I should have been a better friend to her.”
To my surprise, Alyssa put her arm around my shoulder, trying to offer me comfort, even though she had suffered a much greater loss in Annabeth’s death than I could imagine. “She loved you so much, Suzanne. You might not realize it, but she didn’t have many real friends in the past few years. She always spoke so highly of you.”
“You must miss her terribly,” I said. “I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” she said automatically, no doubt hearing the words of consolation repeated ad infinitum over the past several days. “I suppose you’re wondering about my odd behavior at your shop this morning.”
“I understand you not wanting to come in,” I said.
“The truth is, I owe you an apology,” Alyssa said, and then I noticed that tears were creeping down her cheeks.
“Why on earth do you say that?”
“I should have let your mother call you as soon as she found out about Annabeth, but I wasn’t in my right mind at the time. You had every right to be at the funeral to say good-bye to her properly, and I failed you both miserably.” Her tears were streaming down her cheeks fiercely now, though she made no move to wipe them away.
“No apologies necessary. I understand your reasoning,” I said, all of the hurt I’d felt from being excluded washed away by a grieving mother’s tears. “Not that there’s anything to forgive, but we’re good, Alyssa.”
She smiled through her tears, and then she hugged me again. “You always were a good girl. Thank you.” Stepping away from me, she said, “I’m so glad you came by. Would you like something to eat? I have casseroles and desserts overflowing my kitchen, and I’ll never eat it all.”
“Are you at least eating some of it?” I asked her. It may have been a bit presumptuous, but I was sincerely worried about the woman.
“I do my best,” she said, “but I just don’t seem to have an appetite these days.”
I wasn’t sure how to bring up the second reason for my visit, but to my surprise, Alyssa did it for me. “Suzanne, since you’re here, would it be too much to ask you for a favor?”
“Anything,” I said, and I meant it quite literally. I knew Annabeth would do the same if our roles were reversed and it was Momma asking her for a favor, so I didn’t even hesitate.
“I haven’t been able to bring myself to go into Annabeth’s studio since that dreadful day. Would you take a look around and make sure everything is all right in there? I keep having nightmares of sinks running over with water and fires starting in corners, but I just can’t bring myself to go in.”
“I’m more than happy to help,” I told her. “Do you mind if Grace comes in with me?”
“Grace is here?” Alyssa asked as she moved to a window and lifted a curtain aside. “Why didn’t she come in with you?”
“I wanted to speak with you alone,” I admitted. “I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s fine. By all means, ask her to go with you. I’m sorry, I just can’t bring myself to do it.”
“Consider it done,” I said.
I started to beckon to Grace when Alyssa said, “Hang on one second. You’ll be needing the key. Annabeth was very particular about who went inside. You and Grace would be two of the few people she would ever welcome there. You can bring the key back after you’re finished.”
“We shouldn’t be too long,” I said as Grace got out of the Jeep and approached.
“Please, take your time. I’ll be here. After all, there’s nowhere else for me to be now.” That last bit was said with such an air of sadness that it nearly broke my heart all over again.
I couldn’t think of anything to say in response, so I simply gave her one more brief hug, and then I met Grace outside.
“How did it go?” Grace asked me.
“It was fine,” I said.
She looked at me askance. “Really? If that’s the case, then why are you crying?”
“Am I?” I asked, wiping at my cheeks and being surprised to find them damp with my tears. It had been a necessary thing for me to do, but it had taken more out of me than I’d realized. Somehow, spending time with Alyssa remembering Annabeth had been more trying for me than I’d ever imagined. The loss of my friend had suddenly become more real than it had since I’d heard the news that she was gone. “Okay, I’m not great this second, but I’ll be okay.”
Grace put her arm around my shoulder. “I know you will,” she said. “Was it okay with her for us to look around the studio?”
“I didn’t even have to bring it up. She was the one who suggested it. Alyssa has been worried about it, and she asked me if we’d check things out for her.”
“We can certainly do that,” Grace said as we took the path around the house that led to Annabeth’s studio. It was the coolest structure I’d ever been in, and I’d often envied it over the years. The roof was at an angle, and clerestory windows lined the high part, which must have flooded the place with natural sunlight. It was no more than three hundred square feet, but it even included a small loft and a bathroom to boot. Annabeth had gotten a small refrigerator for Christmas one year, and she’d boasted that all she needed was a stove and a sink and she’d be able to live there year-round. For heat and cooling, she’d told me a few years before that she’d paid to put in a split unit that provided all of the comfort she needed.
“Aren’t you coming, Suzanne?” Grace asked me.
I hadn’t even realized that I’d stopped as I stood there taking it all in. “Sure. Sorry about that.”
Grace touched my shoulder lightly. “Take all of the time you need. I know how close the two of you were.”
“You were friends with her, too,” I protested.
“Sure, but the two of you were artists, and I never made any claims to be one myself.”
“I may have been a budding one in school, but those days are long gone,” I admitted a little regretfully.
“Suzanne, you’re a young woman, relatively speaking.”
“Hey, you’re the same age as I am,” I protested.
“Like I said, it’s all relative. Anyway, it’s not too late to take it up again. Even if you don’t, you’re an artist in making donuts. That should count for something.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said after biting my lower lip for a moment.
“You’ve never given yourself enough credit for the things that you do extraordinarily well. Trust me, you could give me the same ingredients you use every day, and you would produce a masterpiece, while mine wouldn’t even be edible.”
“Grace, you have your own special skill set,” I said in consolation.
“You’d better believe it, baby,” she answered me with a grin.
“Did you really just call me ‘baby’?” I asked her.
“Yeah, I thought it sounded funny as it
came out, too. Anyhow, let’s go take a peek, shall we?”
“We shall,” I said, suddenly feeling better after my conversation with Grace. She had that effect on me most of the time, and I knew I had chosen my best friend wisely all those years ago.
As I unlocked the front door and stepped inside, I took in the space. As I’d expected, there were four canvasses in different stages of completion spread around the room, but none of them matched the one I’d so recently received from Annabeth. Was that significant? Had she gone through a dark period and then somehow managed to pull herself out of it, or had she simply found a way of disguising it for everyone else? The paintings on display at the moment had subject matters that were eclectic, to say the least. One featured a dazzling waterfall that seemed to glisten with colors, while one was a night scene, resplendent in velvety dark undertones and only a single source of light illuminating the subject matter. The third painting was a portrait in its earliest stages, and the final one was, to my surprise, a large lovely donut, iced and sprinkled and looking good enough to make me want to lick the canvas. There was a surreal quality to it that elevated the mundane donut to an object of lust and desire to all who beheld it.
Then again, maybe that was just my reaction to it.
“Will you look at that?” Grace asked as she gravitated toward the last one I’d studied. “This had to be the real painting she promised you!”
“It’s amazing,” I said. The painting was complete as far as I could tell, though I couldn’t see Annabeth’s signature anywhere on it, so evidently she wasn’t quite satisfied with it yet. I loved it and wondered if there was any way Alyssa would let me buy it from her. I was certainly going to ask, but in the meantime, I looked around the studio. It was organized chaos, with things spread out haphazardly, oil and watercolor paint tubes everywhere, drop cloths on the floor in several places, and shelves full of brushes, palettes, knives, water cups, bottles of turpentine, and books, wow, the books! One wall was taken over completely by shelving that offered books on art from floor to ceiling. Evidently Annabeth loved to study what those who had come before her had done. It was an impressive collection, no doubt worth more than I could even imagine. There was one noticeable hole on the shelves though, and as I looked around, I found the thick volume that probably fit in the empty space. It was titled Watercolor Techniques, and as I flipped through it, I was surprised by how basic the text seemed to be. Annabeth was an accomplished artist in many mediums, from oils to pencils to charcoals to watercolors. So why would she need to refresh her basic techniques? There was more here than met the eye. I picked up the book and started leafing through it. As I did, I saw something tucked in between two pages and went back to find it. There was a bank withdrawal slip for ten thousand dollars, and it was dated two days before she’d died. Why had she needed that much money so recently? What had happened to it? Had she spent it, or was it still somewhere in the studio?