The Fine Art of Murder (8 page)

I couldn’t let Nathan go home with that lump on his head. He had to be checked throughout the night to make sure there was no concussion. So I made him call one of his crew to come pick up his car and took him home with me. He grumbled, saying he’d been hit harder before and came through okay. He’d be fine at home, he insisted.

I ignored him.

As I settled him in with a fresh cup of coffee and a stack of magazines to keep him awake, I said, “I’ll be back in two hours, and two hours after that. If there’s any sign that you’re losing consciousness, I’m hauling you down to emergency.”

He didn’t have any more arguments left and just sat in the chair he’d collapsed into, nodding.

“And, again, thank you for coming to my rescue.” I leaned down and hugged him. “You’re my hero.”

He touched his head and winced. “Someone has to save you from yourself. But when I feel better I’m going to read
you the riot act for going out there alone. Why do you think I introduced you to the gang?”

He didn’t give me a chance to answer.

“To help you, that’s why. To make sure you don’t get hurt. So will you let us do our job?”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning.” I turned off the lamp. “Good night.”

***

I hadn’t planned on telling Lizzie what happened at the mansion, but when she woke up the next morning and found Nathan asleep on the couch, I had to start talking. I’ve never believed in the concept of lying by omission. If you don’t say something, you’re not lying. Silence is just a whole lot of nothing. Besides, everyone’s not entitled to know every tiny detail about another person’s life. And what would be the point in telling her I’d been in danger? I was fine. And then I told a little white lie. It was an age-old ploy parents used to keep their children safe from worry.

I told her about going out to the park—which was true. I even told her about the swans. Nice touch. Then I told her Nathan and I had just happened to run into each other. I was on a roll, so I explained that he often went to the park to clear his head. I think I remember he told me he’d done that once, so that was true, also.

“We chatted awhile,” I told her. “And when he was getting back into his car, he hit his head on the frame. Smack. I thought he knocked himself out and ran around to help him.
And I couldn’t leave him like that, could I? I made him come back here with me so I could take care of him.”

I could tell Lizzie liked the part about me taking care of Nathan. She’d always been fond of him. Whether she bought my story or not, she didn’t have time to say. When I was finished, the kids were rushing around and Lizzie’s phone started ringing. In less than ten minutes, all three of them were out the door.

***

Nathan took a shower while I made ham and cheese omelets and fried up some potatoes. I was pouring coffee at the table when he walked into the kitchen.

He sat across from me. “This looks great. You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.” His hair was damp and he smelled of coconut soap.

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

As he salted his eggs, I looked for a sign of the lump on his head. “How do you feel?”

“Just a little headache. I found some aspirin in the bathroom and took a few, if that’s okay?”

“Take whatever you need.”

The food was good, the coffee nice and hot. We were comfortable enough with each other to not feel compelled to fill in the silence. And I was beginning to think he’d forgotten all about the threat he’d made last night. I should have known better.

“Lecture time,” he announced after we’d eaten half our breakfast. “This is a murder case here. Not some run-of-the-mill burglary. One person is dead and there may be more before it’s all over. Whoever came after us last night is still out there. I can’t guess what their connection to the case is, but until we know what’s going on, you can’t take chances like you did last night. No more going off by yourself. Got it?”

I smiled.

“I’m not kidding, Kathy.” He waited for a reaction.

“I know. And I’ll try to—”

He slammed his fork on the table. “There’s no trying. You have to be more careful; that’s just the way it is.”

“You’ve known me a long time, Nathan. During my career, I made hundreds of arrests. I even apprehended a few murderers. And I’ve never been hurt or taken chances with the lives of my men.”

He didn’t have to say it but I knew we were both thinking about Sully. Thankfully, he never brought it up.

“If you’re done patting yourself on the back,” he said, “I’d like to remind you there’s always a first time. You could have been killed last night.”

I pushed my plate across the table and picked up the coffee mug. “You’re right. As much as I hate to admit it, it was stupid of me to go out there alone. I don’t even know what I was looking for. I couldn’t sleep last night, afraid those men might have followed us back here. What if I put my family in danger? I guess I just have to face the fact that my time has passed and it’s Bostwick’s turn now.”

I must have sounded pitiful because Nathan’s stern expression softened into one of concern.

“Come on, now. We both know Bostwick goes by the book; he doesn’t have your instincts or confidence. You have an innate talent, Kathy, and that never goes away. If your gut told you to go rushing out to Buckhorn, there was probably something there. All I’m saying is next time you feel the urge to chase after the bad guys, call me. Okay?”

“I can do that.”

“And in case you hadn’t noticed,” he added, “we’re both moving a little slower these days. That’s why I hired those kids—for the rough stuff.” He laughed. “Think I’m gonna mess up this pretty face? Heck no.”

His laugh cheered me up. “It would be a shame. How about a refill?”

“Sure.” He held up his mug.

I walked to the counter. “Did you recognize any of those men last night?” I asked.

“No. They had their backs to me. But the big one with the blackjack, his voice sounded familiar.”

“That’s what I thought.” As I poured coffee, I asked, “Did you see someone in the guesthouse?”

“It was dark and I wasn’t there long enough to get a good look at anything.”

“Maybe I imagined it. That old place has got to have a few ghosts floating around.”

Nathan nodded in agreement.

“You know, Leland was only one when he died in the mansion,” I said. “If I remember right, he had just started
walking and fell into the pool. The coroner said it was accidental that the poor baby drowned. But the old man blamed Jackie because she was babysitting him at the time. Guess he was looking for one more reason to hate her.”

“Old Marshall T. died at Buckhorn, too, don’t forget. If there’s a ghost out there, it surely has to be him.”

“He was a ghoul,” I said. “Everyone in town hated him.”

“I never told you this but I’ve always felt a little guilty about the way we handled things,” Nathan said. “Because we all wanted him gone, maybe we weren’t thorough enough. We just took the coroner’s word for everything, filled out and filed our reports. We didn’t even go out to have a look around.”

“Are you kidding?” I asked, sitting back down in my chair. “He was eighty-four years old! He’d enjoyed bad health for years. You remember how he loved complaining to anyone who’d listen? He had a full-time nurse who attended to him around the clock. His private physician came in to check on him every week. There was a full staff in and around the estate.”

Nathan nodded. “I know . . . I know.”

“No one lives forever, Nathan.”

Nathan had work to do and called Brock to come pick him up. As I watched them drive away, I realized how tired I was. Locking the door behind me, all I could think about was sleep.

***

I looked at the clock radio when my phone rang. It was 2:35. I’d been asleep for five hours.

“Mother, I hate to ask but I just remembered I promised Chloe we’d go to the mall after school. Cam will take the bus home but I don’t want him to be alone in the house. Can you help him with an art project he’s working on? We’ll bring home a pizza for dinner.”

“No problem. You know I love spending time with Cam.”

“Are you okay? You sound funny.”

I’d learned a long time ago that people react negatively to the idea of a nap. Adults think it’s something only babies and old folks do. Children run screaming when told it’s nap time
and think they’re being punished. Lizzie would have thought I was sick if I admitted to sleeping in the middle of the day. So I just said, “I’m fine. Have fun at the mall.”

“We will. Gotta go. Bye.”

I had an hour and used it to take a shower and change into a floral maxi dress. My new haircut was still fighting me—just a week more and things would settle down across my forehead. I was rubbing lotion into my hands when I heard the front door open.

“Grammy!”

“Is that you, Chloe?” I shouted. “Where’s your brother?”

“It’s me, Cameron.” Part of Cam’s condition made it difficult for him to catch inflections and nuances in speech. Sarcasm was almost impossible for him to understand.

I hurried to help him with his jacket and backpack. “I knew it was you, sweetie. I was just joking.”

He looked confused. “I thought a joke was like knock, knock, who’s there?”

“Then I guess I was teasing you.”

“Oh.”

“Your mom took Chloe to the mall. She told me you’re working on a project. How about we do some art together? I brought my paint box and haven’t even opened it up the whole time I’ve been here.”

“Cool. I’ll go get my stuff.”

“Is it something you can do out on the deck? I’ve been inside all day and need a good dose of fresh air.”

“Sure. I’ll be right back.” He grabbed his things and hurried to his room.

Lizzie kept one of my old easels and a few small canvases in the guest closet. I carried them out to the deck. After setting things up, I wiped off the round, wooden table and went to get my paints and brushes.

Cam beat me back and was pulling one of the deck chairs closer to the table when I got there. A box of old wooden blocks was in front of him, and he began lightly touching the surface of each one.

After we were both situated, I asked, “So what are you going to do with those blocks?”

“We’re supposed to make a mosaic, only not with tiles. We’re supposed to make a design out of things we have at home. Some kids are using pieces of cardboard. Wendy Stark’s using her brother’s old baseball cards.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t want them anymore.”

Cam giggled. “I know.”

The view from Lizzie’s deck was beautiful. Early spring green streaked the lawn; trees were still hungover from winter but tiny buds stood ready to unfold along their branches. Pink and yellow crocuses poked through the grass to get some sun. Dozens of red and orange tulips lined the white fence along the property line. Off in the distance, on the other side of a mossy hill, an aquamarine lake sparkled. Birds chirped as they circled the water.

I checked to see if I’d brought just the right colors I’d need. But out of the corner of my eye, I watched Cam working. His concentration reminded me of other moments we’d shared. Before he could talk, we finger-painted. After a trip to the zoo one time, we made little animals out of molding clay.
And there was the time we sat for hours cutting snowflakes from red and green construction paper to decorate the house at Christmas. There were so many projects I couldn’t remember them all. But I always remembered our conversations.

“Have you seen pictures of the tiled mosaics in Mexico? Hundreds of little pieces of ceramic, all put together making one beautiful picture. Some of them have lasted for hundreds of years. When I was in Mexico City I saw a really big one at the university there.”

“Our teacher, Mrs. Tucker, showed us a movie. But we’re not supposed to make pictures like they did. Ours are supposed to be modern. Just shapes and colors. I think this is better. Then we don’t have to try to make it look perfect. Know what I mean, Grammy?”

“I know exactly what you mean, sweetie.”

I thought about the landscape I was painting and wondered if it was time to try a different style. “Do you think you’ll finish your project while I’m here? I want to see how it turns out.”

“I’m almost done already.” He held up a block. “See? I painted some of them. They had to dry a few days but they’re okay now, so I could move them around.” He started taking all the blocks out of the box and put them on the table. “What are you working on, Grammy?”

“A landscape. The view from here is so pretty, and this way I can always remember it. You’ve seen some of my paintings, haven’t you?”

“Sure. Mom has one in her bedroom. She says it’s the house she grew up in when she was a little girl. It’s nice. Can
you paint a picture of this house so I can always remember it, too?”

“Why didn’t I think of that?”

Cleaning my brush, I watched as he turned the blocks over and over, trying to decide which pattern pleased him the most. Some were faded and hadn’t gotten a coat of paint. Some were chipped; some were smooth and shiny. The more he worked, the more intrigued I became.

“When your mom and Chloe finish at the mall, they’re picking up a pizza for dinner.”

“Better not have peppers on it. I hate peppers.”

“If it does, I’ll pick them off for you.”

“Thanks, Grammy.”

When the light had changed and the air cooled, I asked Cameron, “Are you almost done?”

“Almost. I just have to glue these blocks in the frame.”

“You can do that while I put my things away.”

“Cool.”

***

After the pizza was gone and the house was quiet, I called Nathan to see how he was feeling.

“An ice pack does wonders,” he said, sounding upbeat. “How about you?”

“I just watched the news and there doesn’t seem to be anything . . . new.”

“Well I have something to report. Polly found out who made the nine-one-one call that night. That girl’s amazing. There isn’t a system out there she can’t hack into.”

“You mean she hacked into the phones at the police station?”

“I told you she was good.”

“I’m impressed. So who was it?”

“A guy named Mike DeGroot. He and his girl found the body.”

“So why wasn’t he there when the police arrived?”

Nathan sighed. “He’s just some dumb jock. He and his buddies—every one of them underage—went out there to drink, thinking the place was deserted. You know how kids are. I tell you, each new crop seem to think they’re entitled to do whatever they please.”

Sometimes Nathan got sidetracked and needed a slight nudge. “So they were out there drinking and . . . ?”

“Well, Mike’s got his girl with him, and they go upstairs for some privacy.”

“They must have been scared out of their minds when they found Stacey,” I said.

“You called that one right. Mike said his girl started to make the call right away but he grabbed her phone away from her. That’s when they took off for downstairs and got the hell out of there. But a few miles down the road, they pulled over. The girl’s hysterical by now, begging him to call the cops. So he drives to a gas station where he used to work, ’cause they got a pay phone. And he calls from there, thinking the number can’t be traced.”

“But Polly did trace it. This is great. Let’s go out there and—”

“Hold your horses. I already did.” I could hear the pride in his voice.

“When?”

“About two hours ago. I talked to the owner. Can you believe it? He’s a third cousin or something like that to DeGroot. I’ll never understand why the kid didn’t go somewhere no one knew him.”

“But why was he being so secretive if he hadn’t done anything wrong?” I asked.

“Mike DeGroot doesn’t exactly have a stellar record. DUIs, car theft, and one count of breaking and entering. He hates cops and figured they’d finger him for the murder. Said he knows how things ‘go down.’ Says he watches true crime shows and the cops always suspect the spouse first and the innocent neighbor who reports the crime second.”

“Not all the time,” I said. “But it’s usually the best place to start looking. So you talked to him?” I asked.

“First I had to listen to his cousin for twenty minutes telling me how Mike may be a screw-up but he’d never kill anyone. But he finally made the call and convinced the kid to come talk to me. I waited half an hour before he showed up.”

“You interviewed him right there?” I asked. “In the gas station?”

“Sure did. At first he was difficult, but he finally broke down when I threatened to take him in. He told me the same story as his cousin. That he’d never kill anyone and didn’t even know Stacey Jordan.”

“And you believed him?”

“Well, you’ve always said I’m an excellent judge of character,” Nathan chided.

“Yes, I have.”

“I believed DeGroot before we strapped him up to the polygraph and even more afterwards.”

“What polygraph?”

“After we talked awhile, I persuaded him to come with me back to the office.”

“Well you certainly have been a busy boy,” I said. “So there’s one less suspect on the list.”

“On our list—he’s still on Bostwick’s. And you know why?”

I was getting ready to say I didn’t know why, but Nathan was too quick for me.

“I’ll tell you why. Because he’s going by the book. Didn’t I tell you? He’s working on subpoenaing phone records. All that red tape will keep him tied up for at least a week.”

“And what about the surveillance system at the mansion? Couldn’t Polly just look at it?”

“It was disconnected that night. Has been since Randolph started the renovations. He just wanted people to think it was hooked up; he planned to install a fancy new one when the work was done.”

“Wow.” I couldn’t believe his carelessness. “Guess the big city man still has a small town mentality.”

“You’d think Mr. Big Shot would know that the days of leaving your front door unlocked are long gone,” Nathan said.

Sadly, I agreed.