Fatal Brushstroke (An Aurora Anderson Mystery Book 1) (3 page)

Chapter 3

“I can’t believe you found Haughty Hester’s body in your garden.”

The breeze blew in over the Plexiglas walls surrounding the patio of the beachside restaurant where Rory and Liz sat eating lunch. Rory hunched over her food and picked at her mixed green salad, her long hair brushing the tabletop. She barely heard Liz’s comment above the whirs and squeaks coming from the nearby walkway where joggers, walkers, bikers, and skaters crossed paths in an intricate dance of collision avoidance.

A runaway volleyball slammed against the wall near Rory’s head. Her fork slipped out of her fingers and flew across the patio, skidding to a halt inches from the sandal-clad foot of a startled diner. As if by magic, a clean fork appeared next to Rory’s elbow along with the rest of her order. Her stomach lurched at the sight of the cheeseburger the waitress had just delivered. Somehow, it no longer appealed to her.

“Have you heard anything I said?”

Rory looked across the table at her friend, a younger version of TV journalist Ann Curry. Several inches shorter than the woman she considered her role model, Liz shared a similar mixed parentage with the half-Asian, half-Caucasian newscaster.

“Sorry, I’m just having a hard time believing she’s dead. Thanks for having lunch with me. I appreciate it.”

Liz reached over and touched Rory’s hand. “Are you okay?”

Her friend’s graceful fingers and manicured nails reminded Rory of the hand she’d discovered in her garden. She wiped an unexpected tear from the corner of her eye. “It’s just so sad. I can’t imagine what her family is going through right now.”

“I wonder why she ended up in your garden.” Liz took a small mouthful of brown rice and steamed vegetables.

Rory leaned forward. “I’ve been asking myself that ever since I found her.”

“You know, I’ve heard that mayonnaise is good for your hair, but I don’t think that applies to Thousand Island dressing.” Liz wrinkled a delicate nose in the direction of Rory’s place setting.

“Dang it!” Rory yanked her long hair out of her salad bowl and wiped off the sticky dressing. She was looking for some place out of the way to park the bowl, when the waitress swooped in and took the troublesome salad off her hands.

“Maybe someone mugged her and dumped her body in your backyard,” Liz said as soon as the waitress was out of earshot.

Rory considered the idea. “Doubtful. That’s a pretty valuable ring she wore. No mugger would leave that behind.”

Liz looked around as if to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. In a whisper, she said, “Has the chief...bothered you?”

Even though Chief Marshall pretended to be on good terms with her parents, he’d never really forgiven them for taking in Rory, the child of the couple responsible for the fiery deaths of his wife and young daughter. Shortly after the serial arsonists had died in a fire of their own making, when Rory was barely two years old, the Andersons had adopted her when no one else would and foster care seemed all but a certainty. The spitting image of her birth mother, Rory served as a constant reminder of the family the chief had lost.

“Haven’t seen or heard from him. I’ve only talked to Detective Green so far.”

“He doesn’t consider you a suspect, does he?”

“He didn’t come out and accuse me or anything, but I wouldn’t really blame him if he did. Everything seems to point in my direction.” Rory ticked off on her fingers the strikes against her. “I knew the victim. She was found in my garden. I recognized her hand. To top it all off, I cleaned my kitchen. Probably not the smartest move. Cleanliness is not next to godliness when it comes to a murder investigation.”

“I wish there was some way I could help.”

Rory took a sip of her Diet Coke. “Maybe there is. You’re good at getting people to talk. Is there anyone in the police department you can ask about the case? See who they’re looking into? Maybe I’m worrying for nothing.”

“One of my clients is a cop. I’ll see what I can find out.”

They chewed in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Liz said, “You know your horoscope predicted this would happen.”

Rory didn’t believe in astrology herself, but Liz was a longtime enthusiast. She’d even cast horoscopes for a while, though the short-lived hobby had lost its appeal after she realized it took up more time than she was willing to give. Now Liz diligently checked the paper every morning for insights into her future as well as those of close friends and family.

“How did it do that?” Rory asked.

“‘An unexpected situation could create a lot of tension.’ That’s what it said.”

“That could mean anything. Somehow, I don’t think whoever wrote that envisioned me finding a body in my garden.”

With a flick of her hand, Liz waved aside the comment. “I’ll make a believer out of you some day.” She waited until the waitress who’d arrived to refill her iced tea left before continuing. “What do your parents make of it?”

“I haven’t told them yet. Dad’s out of town and I don’t want to upset Mom. She used to hang out with Hester at conventions, although I don’t think she’s seen her recently.”

Liz waved at someone across the patio. “You know, Hester lived in town before they built their mansion in Malibu. She and Julian—that’s her hubby—still own a condo here as well as a number of other properties.”

“You know Hester’s husband?”

“We’re both mentors for that high school business club I told you about. Plus I handled a real estate transaction for him last year.”

Somehow, Rory wasn’t surprised. Liz seemed to know everyone within shouting distance of Vista Beach. In all likelihood, the young realtor had crossed paths with the murderer, either through her real-estate business or her obsession with golf. She may even have played a round with the killer. Not wanting to think about that disturbing possibility, Rory concentrated on her food, layering her burger with lettuce, tomato, French fries, and, finally, a dollop of ketchup. “What’s he like?” she said before taking a bite of her sandwich.

“Good-looking. Snappy dresser. Knows a good deal when he sees one.”

“Any problems between them? I’ve heard the spouse is usually the prime suspect.”

“Along with whoever finds the body, though I doubt Mitzi has anything to worry about.” The impish grin on Liz’s face morphed into a serious expression. “Not much to report. At least nothing recent. Rumor has it that Hester stole Julian from the loving arms of another woman way back when. Must have been over twenty years ago. Their son’s at least that now.”

Rory waved a ketchup-laden French fry in front of her face. A smidgen of the sauce careened toward Liz, landing on her pristine suit. “Can you introduce me to him? Julian, I mean.”

Liz flinched and dabbed a wet napkin at the spot. “Why?”

“Just wanted to express my condolences. Seems the right thing to do under the circumstances.”

“How about talking to Kevin Bouquet? He just walked in.” Liz gestured with her fork toward a table somewhere behind Rory.

“Hester’s son? He’s here?” Rory turned to look in the direction her friend had indicated. “Which one is he?”

“Sandy-haired pretty boy at the table nearest the exit.”

“Are you sure?”

“That’s definitely him. Julian introduced us once.”

“Doesn’t it seem odd to you that he’s here eating lunch like nothing happened? Shouldn’t the police have told him already?” The news must be spreading through the city by now. Someone was bound to recognize Hester’s son and offer their sympathies. Rory hated to think the young man would hear about his mother’s death so publicly.

“Maybe they couldn’t find him. Tell you what, I’ll go say hi to him and sound him out.”

Before Liz could depart on her mission, Rory leaned forward and laid a restraining hand on her friend’s arm. “He shouldn’t hear the news from us.” Her stomach flip-flopped at the thought of telling the young man his mother had probably been murdered. “He’s with someone I don’t recognize. Any idea who it is?”

“Can’t tell from here.” Liz craned her neck. “Too many annoyingly tall people between us. I’ll have to stand up.”

“Go ahead. Just try not to be too conspicuous.”

Liz stood by her chair but, even on tip-toe, she had trouble seeing over the waiters delivering orders to the nearby tables. A tilt of her head indicated she was heading for a better vantage point. Rory twisted around in her seat to monitor her friend’s progress across the patio. Liz spoke to a woman a couple tables away from where Kevin sat then, after the barest of glances at his lunch companion, returned to report her findings.

“Well?”

“Never seen Miss Double-D before, but the way he’s pawing her she must be his girlfriend. At least she has good taste in shoes. Louboutins.”

Liz had barely settled back into her chair when Rory’s cell phone vibrated. An unfamiliar number appeared on the display. When she answered, she recognized Detective Green’s deep voice.

“Hello, Detective. What can I do for you?”

“You’ve been lying to me.”

Rory’s pulse quickened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Mind telling me why Ms. Bouquet called you yesterday? I thought you hadn’t talked to her recently.”

“Yesterday, you say?”

“Late afternoon.”

“Oh, I remember now. She wanted to know if I had any suggestions for improvements to her class. I got the impression she was calling everyone.”

Rory was surprised at how easily the lie slipped out and how quickly the detective seemed to accept her answer.

She lowered her voice. “Hester’s son, Kevin, is here at the restaurant I’m at, if you’re looking for him.”

“Why would I be looking for him?” the detective asked.

“I thought maybe you’d want to tell him about his mother. Doesn’t seem right for him to learn about it walking down the street.”

“Don’t worry, he knows.”

“He does?” The detective’s words surprised Rory. She couldn’t imagine being out in public after hearing one of her own parents had died. Maybe Kevin was in denial and the news hadn’t sunk in yet.

“What was that about?” Liz said after Rory hung up.

“He knows. Kevin, I mean.”

“Really? Doesn’t seem very upset about it, does he? What else did the Dashing Detective say? I assume that’s who you were talking to.”

“I don’t recall commenting on his looks.”

“Come on. What’s he like?”

“I thought you knew everyone in town.”

“The chief just hired him. I haven’t had a chance to check him out yet. Is he short and stocky? Or tall, dark, and ruggedly handsome?”

“I was trying to keep myself together enough to answer the man’s questions, not looking for a date.”

Right now, Rory wasn’t eager to go through the drama associated with a romantic relationship. Her last one had ended the moment she’d announced her intention to move from Riverside to the beach. Her boyfriend of several years had decided an hour plus drive was too long to successfully maintain a serious relationship. When she’d seen him a week later holding hands with a petite coed barely out of her teens, Rory suspected he’d used the move as an excuse to break up.

“That detective’s cute, isn’t he? I knew it.”

“Still not looking for a date.”

“You will be someday.” Liz grabbed the bill and stood up. “Lunch is on me. Call me if you hear anything,” she said before she made her way through the crowded patio toward the interior of the restaurant.

As soon as Rory finished her soda, she clipped her cell phone to her belt and headed toward the exit. As she passed by Kevin Bouquet’s table, she considered stopping to introduce herself and offer her condolences, but decided not to interrupt the lovebirds. She’d talk to him later, after the news had sunk in and he’d had a chance to process the tragic situation.

Chapter 4

The moment Rory set foot in Arika’s Scrap ’n Paint, the tension eased from her shoulders and a sense of relief washed over her. She paused in the doorway and drank in the atmosphere of the cozy store. A scattering of customers perused racks of painting and scrapbooking supplies while smooth jazz played softly in the background.

The eponymous store owner, cropped hair speckled with gray, stood on tiptoe, her heels almost touching the hem of her sheath dress. Arika swatted at a scrapbook page fastened to the wall, her outstretched hand missing the topmost pushpins by a couple inches. She swayed and placed her other hand on the wall to steady herself.

Rory rushed over to help. “Let me get that for you, Mom.”

Arika turned to face her daughter. “Thanks, dear. I don’t know why your father insists on putting the examples up so high.”

Rory smiled at the familiar complaint. For as long as she could remember, her parents had disagreed on the proper height to hang pictures—not surprising considering her father was a foot taller than her mother.

After she removed the example from the wall, Rory looked over her shoulder. “Should I take the rest down?”

“That would be nice.” Arika plucked a stray thread off her embroidered jacket and perched on a stool behind the counter. “Aren’t you working today?”

Rory considered telling her mother about Hester, leaving out the more gruesome details, but decided the news could wait. She’d have a quiet talk with her later in a less public place.

Rory busied herself with the papers, avoiding her mother’s searching gaze. “I had lunch with Liz. Just stopped by to see if you needed anything before I went home.”

She was taking down the last sample page when Arika finally spoke. “You don’t want to go home, do you?”

Rory laughed self-consciously. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m not sure I would. We were all shocked when we heard.”

Rory clutched the scrapbook page so tightly it was in danger of becoming irreparably wrinkled. She turned to stare at her mother. “You already know? Who told you?”

“That nice young detective stopped by. What was his name?” Arika screwed up her face in concentration. “A color, I think.”

As far as Rory knew, neither of her parents had seen Hester in months. She saw no reason for Detective Green to bother her family. The pent-up emotions she’d managed to keep in check until now welled up inside her, and a string of swear words exploded from her mouth.

“Aurora Amelia Anderson!”

Rory looked down at her feet and mumbled an apology. “The police shouldn’t be bugging you. This is my problem, not yours.”

“Surliness does not become you.” Arika rescued the scrapbook page from Rory’s clenched fist. “The police came by because Hester taught a class for me, not because you’re my daughter.”

Hester? Here? “I had no idea.”

“Every Monday evening for the past three weeks. She was here yesterday as usual. Full class, too. That’s last night’s project.” Arika pointed at a mailbox covered in an intricate floral design that sat on a nearby shelf.

Rory was examining the project when she heard a door open. A woman half a foot shorter than Rory, eyes puffy and nose red as a beet, emerged from the bathroom. Her appearance was so disheveled that Rory almost didn’t recognize the normally tidy woman she had last seen two weekends before.

“Arika—” Nora Peabody froze as though an invisible wall prevented her from approaching them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were busy.”

With a movement of her hand, Arika waved aside the unseen barrier and urged Nora forward. “Feeling any better, dear? You remember my daughter, Rory, don’t you?”

Nora wiped her nose with a shredded tissue and gave a slight gesture Rory interpreted as a wave. “Hi, Rory. Have you had a chance to practice your strokework yet?” Her voice was so low, Rory had to lean down in order to hear the words.

“Unfortunately not. Work’s kept me pretty busy lately.” Hoping to put a smile on the distraught woman’s face, Rory said to her mother, “Nora was a great help when I took that weekend class from Hester. She taught me some neat tricks.”

Instead of displaying the hoped-for smile, Nora’s face crumpled at the mention of her mentor’s name. She bawled so loudly the other customers in the store abandoned their shopping to peer in her direction.

Rory knew the two painters were close, but she hadn’t expected the dam to burst the moment she uttered Hester’s name. She mouthed “I’m sorry” to her mother while Arika whipped out a tissue box from under the counter and steered the crying woman to the sitting area near the back of the sales floor.

Once Nora was settled on the couch, Rory said to her, “Will you excuse us for a moment? I need to talk to my mom.”

Rory drew her mother aside and whispered, “Do you think she’ll be okay? Is there someone we should call?”

“I am a little concerned about her. She’s been like this ever since we heard the news, but I really don’t know who to contact.”

“What about her husband?”

Arika shook her head. “Divorced. No other family as far as I know.”

“She’s only in her forties. What about parents? Brothers and sisters?”

“She’s an only child. I’m afraid her parents disowned her after her marriage ended. No children of her own, either. She participated in that Big Sister program years ago, but I don’t think she’s in contact with her Little Sister anymore.”

Rory’s heart went out to Nora. She couldn’t imagine losing her best friend and having no family to turn to. “That’s really sad.”

“I know. We’ll have to take care of her, only I’m not sure how to help at the moment.”

They both stared at Nora who was now sniffling, hands clutching a wad of tissue in a death grip. Rory glanced over at the shelves filled with sample projects. “Why don’t you have her take over Hester’s class? No one knows her designs and techniques better than she does.”

“Good idea. Maybe I can find a few other things around the store for her to do.”

Arika sat down on the couch. “Nora, dear, I was wondering if you could help me with something?”

Nora blew her nose and looked up expectantly. Before Arika could pose her next question, the bell over the front door tinkled and a man in a brown uniform entered the store carrying several packages. “Excuse me. Let me just see to this delivery.”

While her mother attended to business, Rory studied Hester’s protégé for signs of a relapse. Even though she saw no indication the woman was going to burst into tears again, Rory cringed at the thought of suggesting Nora take over her mentor’s painting class.

Rory searched her mind for a safe topic of conversation. Mentioning Hester was obviously out of the question, but what about painting in general?

She moved to where she had a clear view of the front of the store. Arika was deep in conversation with the muscular deliveryman. She wished her mother would hurry back. Rory had no clue how to comfort the grief-stricken woman.

As if sensing Rory’s concern, Nora sat up straight and smiled bravely. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” She took off her glasses and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “How was Hester yesterday? I’d like to think her last day on Earth was a happy one.”

When Rory didn’t immediately reply, Nora’s eyes widened and she shrank into the corner of the sofa as far away from Rory as possible. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Forget I said anything.”

Rory settled her face into what she hoped was a more welcoming expression. She caught a faint whiff of a musky perfume when she sank down on the couch next to Nora. “It’s okay. I’m just confused. Why are you asking me about Hester?”

Nora picked at the tissue in her hand. “I thought...I mean...Didn’t you see Hester last night, after class?”

“Where’d you get that idea?”

“Never mind. I must have misunderstood her.”

Her? “Who told you I met Hester last night?”

“Hester’s friend, Tru...Trudy. She owns the juice place down the street, Main Street Squeeze.” Nora sniffled and picked up another tissue. “Did...Did I say something wrong?”

“No, of course not. Who else knows about this?”

“No one. Well, no one except that nice policeman. Shouldn’t I have told him?”

Rory fought down a sudden urge to jump over the couch and make a dash for freedom.