The Art of Love and Murder (29 page)

“Hi Sheriff Meadowlark. It’s not like I want to be here. Heads are rolling over the break-in of Ms. Dahl’s room. Joey got the ax, and I’m covering part of his shift, coming in earlier.”

“Joey?”

“Yeah, seems he was on duty both days and got chummy with Clark. They didn’t even suspect him, but he blubbered about letting Clark behind the counter here. Might be how he got the key to Lacy’s room. Whether he did or not, Joey’s canned.” Her fingers flittered in the air. “No loss.”

“How long have you been on the desk?”

Penny glanced up at the clock above her head and yawned again. “Close to two hours.”

“Has Ms. Dahl been in?”

“No.” She shook her head, pinned-up black hair bobbing on the top of her head like a rooster tail. “Haven’t seen her.”

“I’m going to go up and check anyway.” He thumped the desk, and she nodded as he moved away.

Chance took the stairs two at a time, all the while thinking of Lacy’s hips as she’d ascended the staircase. He tried the knob on the door of two eighteen, knocked, then leaned against the wall next to her room. How the hell could he find her?

“Is there something I can help you with, sir?”

A voice jarred him.

A Flagstaff police officer approached, stopping several feet away. Before Chance could speak, the officer’s stern face registered recognition. “Oh, hello, Sheriff Meadowlark.”

He nodded. “You keeping an eye on the hotel?”

“Yes, but haven’t seen anything yet, sir.”

His phone rang, Chance bolted from the wall and answered on the second chime.

“Granny’s giving a statement.” Ranclin’s voice greeted him. “She’s dishing dirt on Sheffield that goes back over forty years.”

****

Lacy’s discomfort increased. The professor had grown quiet, insisting the surroundings would be better for reminiscing when they reached their destination. At the edge of town, when he’d turned toward the peaks and left the comfort of civilization, her heart thumped a warning.

“I really must insist, Myles. Where are we going?”

“Isn’t it lovely out here?” His attention focused on the road, he acted as if he’d not heard her.

“I said where are we going?”

“Not far now, darling. This place is close enough to run into town if we need supplies and far enough for...privacy.” At that he turned onto a side road.

She gripped the seat and whipped her head to stare at him. “What did you say?” He blinked. “Myles!”

“What was that?” He darted a glance at her.

Her stomach lurched. His erratic demeanor now frightened her.

“I’ve changed my mind. I think I’d like to do this another day.”

“We’ve come this far, Lacy, why go back now?” His teeth glinted with his smile.

“I didn’t know we were leaving Flagstaff. I...I have another appointment and—”

“Don’t be stubborn.”

“I’m not, but—”

“Yes, you are. Just like her.” His speech was clipped, his mouth now a thin line.

“Professor, turn around.” She spoke to his profile. “Take me back to the hotel.”

“There’s the road in. See.” He gestured out his window as they turned onto a dirt road.

The car vibrated with the washboard ruts in the road. Lacy trembled. She slipped her hand into her purse, grasped her cell and depressed the button to turn it back on. He flashed a smile, his eyes widening when he turned back to the road. His single-mindedness in getting her to this secluded destination frightened her. If she checked her messages and he remained unconcerned, she might relax. With a deep breath, she pulled her phone from her purse with as little fanfare as possible.

“There’s no coverage out here, so you may as well put that away.”

“I have some messages I’d like to check.” She cast a desperate glance at the bars in the upper corner. They popped from nothing to one and back to nothing.

“Believe me, darling, there’s no need. Put it away.” The car glided to a stop. His arm darted out, and he laid a heavy hand on hers which clutched firmly to the cell.

They stared at each other; his green eyes not blinking sent chills through her body. She had no idea what message he intended, but his intensity suspended her actions. She nodded, and he released her hand. For some reason, he wanted her total attention, and for now, she’d comply.

“Now then, I know you’re going to love it here, and we have so much to share. So much.”

****

Chance found himself across the desk from Detective Ranclin for the second time that day.

“I’m bringing you in on this as a courtesy, Sheriff.” The button-down detective sounded formal while he studied the file on his desk.

“And because I can help.”

He didn’t look up from his papers, but Chance didn’t miss the slight smile on his face.

“We’d appreciate some background information.” When the detective did look up, his face turned serious.

“Background?” The significance of the statement sank in. “Then you
do
think he’s involved with the theft and the murder of my wife.”

“We have reason to believe there is a connection between Professor Sheffield and the event eight years ago.”

“Carol?”

“She had some stories. She may be trying to get her grandson off, but there’re statements she’s made that bear checking out.”

“You haven’t located Sheffield yet?” He fisted his hands on his knees. Her name repeated in his head.
Lacy, Lacy, Lacy.

“No.”

“Son of a bitch,” Chance muttered low.

“What can you give us, Sheriff? Anything you remember that might help us find him? Or maybe Ms. Dahl said something.”

“What I remember from eight years ago has nothing to do with the professor. He was hardly a blip on the radar. And as far as what Lacy has told me...” If only he could concentrate on that and not her eyes, her lips and the way she molded into him last night. “He has a shrine to the sculptor in his house.” He raked across conversations they’d had. “He’d been her mother’s lover and art professor. Her mother became Muuyaw under his mentoring. I don’t have anything specific. Lacy didn’t particularly like him.” He rubbed his eyes, scratched at his shadow of a beard. “I had a friend contact the detective that worked the case eight years ago. He had his suspicions, but nothing pointed directly at the professor so no investigation ensued. What did Carol say?”

“The professor was going to pay her for Ms. Dahl’s sketches and the chest. That would make him the only person to have all of Muuyaw’s art. She used her grandson to steal it. When her stepsister died, she ended up with all the art and sold it to him back then. They apparently have a long history.”

“Did she know anything about the theft at the gallery?”

“Nothing definite.” The detective sighed and hesitated with his words. “She said after Archibald’s call last night she wouldn’t put anything past him.”

“The curator called her?”

“Archibald wanted to exhibit Muuyaw’s sculptures. He called Carol since she’s a relative of Lacy’s, figuring she could help him. When she refused, he implied he had information about the professor that she wouldn’t be happy to hear. And that if she was smart, she’d stay away from a man so ruthless that he might have blood on his hands.”

“Blood on his hands.” His heart palpated.

“She told him to go to hell. That’s when he told her he had the chest, his bargaining chip with the professor. He must’ve thought she’d want the chest and help him with the professor. She called his bluff and hung up. She says she called Sheffield to tell him where to find the chest, but he didn’t answer. That’s when she sent Clark to find it.”

“And Clark tried to intimidate Archibald, but he couldn’t find the chest? Left Archibald alive?”

Ranclin nodded. “Carol claims when her grandson called her, she figured the curator had been lying and didn’t have it, and she sent him to Lacy’s room again.”

“Hmm, either Clark is lying or Sheffield already knew about the chest and had a little visit with the curator after Clark left. Why kill him?” What the hell were they missing? Lacy’s life could depend on it. “Sounds to me like Archibald could’ve been bought.” His mind raced over any comment she’d made that he might have forgotten.

The detective cleared his throat. “There’s one more thing.”

Chance winced at the tone of Ranclin’s voice.

“Carol got hold of the professor today, before she gave her statement. She told him she would tell us everything she knew. He sounded...calm.”

“Could she tell if Lacy was with him?”

“He said he was at lunch.”

His stomach lurched. His hand went to his gun without forethought.

“We’re running a background check on Sheffield right now, financial records, the whole routine. One thing popped right away. He has a couple of handguns registered.”

“Did you get a warrant yet?”

On cue, a knock sounded and the door opened. A man in blue waved a paper in the air. “Got it.”

Ranclin stood, grabbed his jacket and nodded at Chance. “Let’s roll.”

****

Lacy sat glued to her seat. She had no desire to leave the car, not even for all the stories the professor could tell. His actions, his voice and swinging moods frightened her. Fear seemed somewhat extreme, she reasoned. He was upset, melancholy perhaps, and now looked to commune in Kaya’s favorite setting with her daughter. As odd as he acted, as secluded as this place seemed, fear might be an overreaction. And she did want to know everything about her mother. Was this man her father? Or Hartmut? She could find out—now—today. As she watched him jaunt around the car to open her door, white hair catching filtered sunlight through the pines, she couldn’t help seeing his mood as a bit bizarre.

Bizarre didn’t ease her doubts.

“Come on.” He practically lifted her from her seat with surprising strength, and she whisked her purse from the seat, clutching it to her chest.

His fingers gripped her arms and although straight and strong for a man his age, the tips were papery smooth with age. She tried to keep her distance but he leaned into her, his mouth close to her ear.

“Don’t be coy.”

His teasing tone brought a wave of nausea to her stomach.

“Myles, I’m not—”

“Ah, my dear, you do protest too much!” He laughed, pulling her forward.

The A-frame house, nestled amongst the pines should’ve looked picturesque, but the dark windows on each side above the door gaped black at her like vacant, uninviting eyes. The door, with empty window boxes on each side, formed a closed-mouth sneer.

As if Myles had read her mind, felt her intimidation, he paused, surveying the exterior. “It looks rather sad. I shouldn’t have neglected it for so long.”

“Did you stop coming after Kaya died?”

His arm fell from her, and he strolled to the window boxes. “The hyacinth bloomed lavender the last spring.”

“The spring she died or the spring...” She swung her purse over her shoulder and prodded him to talk about when they broke up, when Hartmut arrived on the scene, to find out not only about her mother, but also about herself.

He turned his face to her, his green eyes watery pools, but he didn’t comment. His cool, smooth fingers clasped her arm, bringing her with him onto the steps. He unlocked the door, and they stood in the doorway.

The room immediately drew her in. The wood floor, a deep oak, formed a solid, rich foundation for the matching walls. Two overstuffed couches in a deep plum shade sat on floral area rugs alive with plum, green and honey-tan colors. Three-foot high bookcases lined two walls, and shelves overflowing with artist supplies stood on another. A stone fireplace took over the fourth wall. Beyond the warm living room, the kitchen area could be seen. A spiral staircase wound skyward to an open bedroom with a black, potbelly fireplace. Light from the overhead skylight windows flooded the house with the sun.

“This is lovely, Myles.”

With her words, his hand slid around her waist and hugged her.

She wanted to pull away, the closeness inappropriate, regardless of her suspicions about their relationship.

She walked out of his embrace with the excuse of gaining a closer look. “Really lovely. Are these sketches Kaya’s?” She shivered slightly; the shut up cabin had retained the cold of winter. Two charcoal drawings of deer had been framed and hung on the wall above one of the bookcases.

The sound of the door closed behind her, then a click. She pivoted around.

“Yes, of course.” He walked toward her, a haggard smile on his face. “Who else? Certainly not Muuyaw’s. Those are before Muuyaw. Kaya framed them. She wouldn’t want me to move them.” His words clipped short. “I’ll have to bring all her work here.” He stared at the framed art. “But how? Maybe...” His voice trailed off as he sank deeper into his thoughts, gazing at the sketches.

Lacy glanced around the cabin. Basically, one large room, and although spacious, she couldn’t imagine where all the sculptures would fit. And why would he leave it unattended out here? “Will it be safe?”

“Safe?” He frowned at her.

“Well, I guess it would be, if no one knows it’s here. But still...”

“Safe with us.” He smiled.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not going back. This will be our home.”

He smiled, but she didn’t feel like he actually saw her. Our? Was he referring to the art? “What do you mean, Myles? This is quite a drive to the campus and your classes.” Maybe he wanted to retire.

“Would you like some tea? I’m sure we still have some.” He walked into the kitchen.

“Are you retiring this year?” She didn’t follow, but hugged her arms against the chill in the air. She migrated into the sunshine filtering in from the skylights.

He shrugged as he set teacups out and rummaged in the cupboard. “All we have left are bags, green tea. Hmm...well, that will have to do.” When the water failed to flow from the kitchen faucet, he shook his head. “Of course. How foolish of me. I’ll have to use the water pump outside.”

“Myles?” He acted as if she didn’t exist. The thought of a stroke crossed her mind.

“I’ll have the tea ready shortly. We’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way over the fireplace. That’s always fun, isn’t it?” His jovial rambling continued without as much as a glance in her direction.