by Emma Belmont
Aurora frowned. “Awkward,” she said, and put away the blush. Without another word, she picked up her purse and exited.
As Maris finished her lipstick, she couldn’t decide if Aurora was referring to the situation or Jayde, since awkward could have easily been used to describe both—and even Aurora herself.
Maris glanced at her watch. It was time to call it a night. Not only did the B&B usually have an early morning start, it would be good to avoid any more temptation from Minako’s third generation recipes.
Outside again, she saw that the crowd had thinned a little, allowing better viewing of the artwork. As Mikhail had said, several artists and styles were represented. Two large portraits sat side by side but from their strange cubist shapes, Maris couldn’t tell if they were men or women. There was a still life of citrus fruit in a metal bowl, followed by an almost completely white canvas with only a small rectangle of blue in its center. It was an eclectic mix, but the featured artist was clearly Clio. She stood in front of her artwork and in the center of a small group of admirers. True to her word, she had a new cup of sake, and was smiling and laughing as she posed for photos with various people.
After the altercation between the art critic and Aurora, Maris was glad to see that the evening was ending on a positive note for her.
She crossed to Minako and Alfred, who were still circulating with trays of food and drink. “What a delightful evening this has been,” she told them. “Your shop is beautiful, the food was extraordinary, and you are wonderful hosts.
“Thank you,” Minako answered, beaming. “This is high praise indeed–”
“From the owner of the best B&B on this coast or any other,” Alfred told her.
Maris smiled. “Thank you.” She eyed the paintings and onlookers. “Judging by the number of attendees, it seems you and Mikhail have had a huge success.”
“We truly hope so,” Alfred said.
“For Mikhail’s sake,” Minako added.
Maris nodded, and turned to see if she could spot Mikhail anywhere, but suddenly there was shouting coming from the ground floor, followed by a wild shriek.
3
Alarmed guests stopped what they were doing. Minako and Alfred were the first ones to recover, setting down their trays and heading for the stairs. Only then did Maris understand what Claribel had meant. The Old Girl had been warning her of more trouble, not the altercation. She hurried after the bookstore owners.
“There’s a dead body!” someone screamed.
In another few moments they’d arrived at the ground floor. One of the guests that Maris didn’t recognize was frantically waving at a door in the back of the store.
“Outside,” he said. “Hurry! This way!”
Maris, Minako, and Alfred ran after him to an elevated loading dock in the back alley. Large wooden crates crowded the area, but at the edge, not twenty feet from them, lay a body. The three of them rushed over. Minako let out a small squeal.
“Stay back,” Alfred said, holding out his arm. “Don’t look.” Minako instantly turned away.
But even from where she stood Maris could see that it was Langston Spaulding. He was sprawled on his back, his lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. Maris felt her stomach sink and swallowed hard. There was a knife sticking out of his chest, and a glistening patch of wetness stained the black shirt around it. Under the harsh glare of the dock’s fluorescent lights, the art critic’s unmoving face seemed slightly green. Maris put a hand to her mouth.
Alfred stepped over the dead man’s legs to his other side.
“I just came out for a smoke,” the guest said. He was still clutching the cigarette in a trembling hand. “Oh, dear God, I almost fell right on top of him. It’s the art critic, isn’t it? The one who was arguing with the gypsy.”
Alfred crouched and checked for a pulse at the side of Langston’s neck. When he straightened up, he shook his head. “Minako, I think we should–”
“Call the police,” she said, and hurried back inside.
4
At the sound of the siren and the sight of the revolving red lights, all eyes turned to the storefront. Most of the guests who remained had elected to wait on the upper floors. But as Sheriff Daniel “Mac” McKenna came through the front door, Alfred and Minako were waiting for him, while Maris sat in the nearest reading area.
“Sheriff,” Alfred said, coming forward and extending his hand. “Alfred Page.” He indicated Minako. “And my wife, Minako. We’re the owners of Inklings.”
As they shook hands, Mac said, “I understand it was Minako who called the emergency line and that there’s been a murder.”
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Minako said, and Maris noticed that she looked a bit more pale than usual. “Maris was with us when we found the body.”
“Maris?” Mac said. She got up from the low chair and came forward as the sheriff turned to her. “Maris,” the sheriff said, smiling at her. “I didn’t realize you’d be here.”
She returned his warm smile. “The Pages were putting on an art exhibit, and I’m one of the guests.” She looked up the stairs at some of the faces watching them. “Among many others.”
Mac followed her gaze. “I see.”
“Some of the guests have already gone,” Alfred said, taking his wife’s hand. “They were–”
“Anxious to leave,” Minako said.
Mac studied them both for a moment. “Do you have a list of the invitees?”
Alfred nodded. “Yes. Mikhail provided it to us so we could plan.”
“And we also have a guest book,” Minako added. She indicated the open ledger on the wine table.
Maris noticed a slight tremble in their clasped hands and realized they must have been on their feet all day getting the store and food ready. Mac must have noticed something as well. “Why don’t you folks have a seat,” he said, indicating the area where Maris had been waiting. “Please.”
Alfred led Minako that way, and they both quickly sat, still holding hands. Mac watched them, and then eyed Maris. “You were there when the body was found?”
“Not initially,” she said. “One of the other guests had gone out to the loading dock for a cigarette.”
“Is he still here?”
Maris pointed to the man pacing near the cash register. When he saw her pointing, he abruptly stopped. Mac glanced back at the Pages, then lowered his voice as he leaned in toward Maris.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
Maris smiled a little. Though she’d been as shocked as the rest of them at the discovery of the body, she’d managed to recover much more quickly. Whether it had been Claribel’s warning, or the fact that she’d never met the art critic, or maybe even that she was getting used to bodies turning up in Pixie Point Bay, she didn’t know. But she was definitely doing better than either the Pages or the man with the cigarette.
“I’m doing fine, actually,” she said. “Do you want to see the loading dock?”
Mac nodded. “That’s exactly what I want to see.”
“All right,” she said. “Let me just get them some water.”
Maris quickly headed to the wine and water table near the entrance and snatched up three bottles. The first two she took to Alfred and Minako. “Drink,” she told them. Though they smiled weakly as they accepted the bottles, they made no move to open them. “Stay hydrated,” she told them. “This is just the beginning.”
As one, they blinked at her, and then looked at each other. They both twisted off the caps and took long drinks.
Satisfied, Maris headed back to Mac. “This way,” she said. As they approached the man with the cigarette, Maris held out a bottle of water to him. “Please have some water, Mr. …”
“Temple,” he said taking the bottle. “Lewis Temple.” He looked directly at Mac. “I didn’t do it.”
Mac took the notepad from his breast pocket. “No one said you did, Mr. Temple.” He made a quick note. “But I’d like to ask you to remain here for just a few more minutes.�
� He closed the notepad. “Can you do that?”
The man looked between the bottle of water in one hand, and the cigarette in the other, as though he were trying to decide between them. “Can I smoke out front?”
“Yes,” Mac said, nodding toward the entrance. “I’ll find you there.”
In the back, on the loading dock, Langston Spaulding’s body was right where they’d left it. The dock’s bright overhead lights cast harsh shadows making the entire area seem a little ghoulish.
Mac went to the body and crouched down. He squatted there for several seconds, peering intently at the knife protruding from Spaulding’s chest. When he stood, he made a few notes.
“So Mr. Temple stumbled across the body when he came out here to smoke,” he said.
“Right,” Maris said. “Alfred, Minako, and I were on the third floor when we heard him screaming.” She looked back to the dock’s door. “We ran out here and saw immediately it was Langston Spaulding.”
“You know the victim?” Mac asked, looking up at her.
Maris shook her head. “Not as such. He’s an art critic, here for the exhibit. He and his wife are staying at the B&B.”
“His wife?” Mac asked, taking notes.
“Jayde,” Maris answered.
Mac nodded. “And who is this Mikhail who gave a guest list to the Pages?”
“That would be another guest at the B&B, Mikhail Galkin. He’s the organizer of the event, and an art dealer.”
Mac looked around at the crowded dock, full of wooden crates in all shapes and sizes. “So this art dealer is using Inklings to host an exhibit.” Maris nodded. “He invites you, guests from the town, and anyone else who will come, including art critic Langston Spaulding and his wife, Jayde.”
“Yes,” Maris said.
“So everyone is here, having wine and cheese, when suddenly Mr. Temple says there’s been a murder.”
Maris narrowed her eyes. “Not quite.”
“Ah,” Mac said, pencil poised above notepad.
Maris grimaced a bit. “Langston and Aurora Puddlefoot had an argument, about the work of Clio Hearst, a local artist that Mikhail is representing.”
Mac jotted down the names and, without looking up said, “The owner of Magical Finds?”
“Yes,” Maris said. “I ran into her in the ladies room. She’d tossed Langston out of her store earlier today.” Mac raised his eyebrows. “Then, this evening, when he’d disparaged Clio’s work, Aurora had quarreled with him.”
“There were raised voices and words were said?” he asked.
Maris shook her head again. “I’m afraid it was a little more than that.” Mac closed the notebook. “Mikhail tried to come between them, between Aurora and Langston.” She glanced at the body. “And he somehow took a blow to the face, which gave him a bloody nose.”
Mac scowled. “Someone punched him?”
“Oh no,” Maris said quickly. “That’s not at all how it looked. I think it was an accident.”
Mac considered for a moment. “All right,” he finally said. “I think it’s time to speak with Aurora, Jayde, and Mikhail.”
“I wonder if we could speak to Jayde first,” Maris suggested. “So that she can leave.”
Mac nodded. “I don’t see why not.” He turned to go.
Maris looked at the body one last time. “Maybe the knife will have fingerprints.”
Mac paused and pursed his lips for a moment, following her gaze. “It’s possible, but it’s not a knife.”
Maris blinked at him. “It’s not?”
He motioned her over to where he stood. “It has some sort of blade,” he said pointing at it. “But look at the handle. The metal shaft is bent at an angle, a perfect ninety degrees, twice.”
Maris had to look at it before she realized what he was saying. The metal shaft was some type of rod that took an almost zigzag path. It had a round wooden handle as well, also not very knife-like.
“It’s some type of tool,” he said. He looked around the dock. “Maybe something used out here.”
At that moment, the door to the loading dock opened and Alfred appeared. “The coroner has arrived.”
5
Maris waited with the Pages as Mac filled the coroner in on the details near the front of the store. They sat where she had left them, still holding their water bottles.
“How are you two holding up?” she said, sitting down with them.
Minako shook her head, staring at the ground. “He complimented the potstickers,” she whispered, then looked up at Maris. “Only one hour ago.”
“I’m afraid it’s a bit of a shock,” Alfred said, patting his wife’s knee.
Maris sighed. “I know what you mean.”
“Oh, of course you do,” Alfred said. “You were at the credit union when the manager died.”
“Awful business,” Minako said. Then she regarded Maris. “How did you cope?”
Maris smiled at her. “At first, I drank some water and took a seat.” She thought back to that day. “Directly after, I tried to be useful to the police. In the days that followed, I tried to stay busy.”
“Thank you,” Minako said.
“Good advice,” Alfred said.
They looked at each other. “I’ll go get the list of attendees invited,” he said.
“I’ll go get the guest book,” Minako answered.
At that point, the coroner proceeded to the loading dock and Mac went outside. He spoke briefly with a furiously puffing Lewis Temple, who then left. By the time he returned, the forensics team had also arrived.
“The body and the coroner are on the loading dock in the back,” he said, pointing to the door in the back of the store.
Alfred and Minako both returned and handed over the invitation list and the guestbook.
“Thank you,” the sheriff said. “There’s no need to detain most of the guests. I’ll be speaking with Jayde Spaulding, Aurora Puddlefoot, and Mikhail Galkin.”
The couple looked a little relieved. “We’ll let everyone know,” Alfred said.
“But Aurora left some time ago,” Minako added.
Maris stood and joined them, and they all moved to the stairs. The Pages were definitely looking better, and hopefully feeling better as well.
Alfred said, “I think Jayde is on the second floor.” He glanced up the stairs. “We’ll start on the third floor and let the guests know it’s okay to leave.”
“If we see Mikhail,” his wife said, “we’ll let him know you want to speak with him.”
Maris and Mac did indeed find Jayde on the next floor, in one of the bookstore’s many sitting areas, and Maris was relieved to see Jill Maxwell sitting with her, holding her hand.
Jayde sat in a straight-backed chair, ghostly white, not moving. Even as Mac and Maris approached, she seemed not to see them. Jill smiled sympathetically at them.
Mac cleared his throat. “Mrs. Spaulding?”
When she didn’t move, he exchanged a look with Maris and then with Jill. The nurse squeezed her hand. “Jayde, honey, it’s Sheriff McKenna.”
“Mrs. Spaulding,” Mac said, his voice soft. “Are you possibly up to answering a few questions?”
Someone had draped a wool shawl over her shoulders, an odd juxtaposition with her dramatic dress. She blinked slowly and finally turned to Jill.
“The sheriff is here,” the nurse said.
Mac crouched down in front of the poor woman. “We can certainly wait until later, Mrs. Spaulding.”
Finally she seemed to see him. She took in the uniform and seemed to focus on the gold star badge. Then she looked into his face. “No,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Let’s do it now.”
“Are you sure?” Jill asked. “Maybe–”
“If there’s even the slightest chance that I can help,” Jayde said, her voice gaining strength. “The sooner, the better.”
Mac nodded. “I appreciate it, Mrs. Spaulding. That’s exactly my reasoning.” He glanced at Maris. “I understand you�
��re staying at the B&B.”
Jayde nodded. “We are, yes.” Her face screwed up and she covered her eyes with her palms. “I mean, I am.” Slowly she lowered her hands to her lap, but Jill offered her a tissue and she used it to dab her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling.
“Apparently there was an argument this evening,” Mac said quietly. “Did you witness it?”
“Oh,” Jayde said, rolling her eyes. “That bizarre woman. The one who owns the store. Have you questioned her?”
“Not yet,” Mac said. “What did they argue about?”
She sniffed and shook her head. “The same thing he always argues about.” She looked from Jill to Maris, and then back to Mac. “Art.”
“And they disagreed?” Mac prompted.
Jayde put the tissue to her nose. “That was his job. To disagree. If an artist was getting any kind of notoriety, he took the opposite view.”
“And I assume that Ms. Puddlefoot was upset by that,” Mac said.
“She tried to punch him,” Jayde declared. “Everyone saw it. Mikhail got between them, and she punched him instead.”
“Did he have an argument with anyone else tonight?” Mac asked.
“Oh, he’d make snide comments,” she said, shrugging. “But no one else took exception that I saw.” She stared into her lap for a moment, and her lower lip began to tremble. “He was a wonderful husband,” she said. “I know what people thought of him, but that was his public persona.” She covered her face with her hands again. “God, what am I going to do?”
The metal rattling of the rolling gurney came from the first floor. Jayde shot to her feet and looked in that direction, causing Mac and Jill to stand as well. For a moment the woman swayed, but they steadied her.
“Are they taking him?” she gasped. She looked wildly from Maris to Jill and then Mac. “I have to go.” She looked around for something. “I have to go with him.”
