by Emma Belmont
“Try the Merlot and the parmesan together,” Jayde said, but she slightly slurred the last word.
Mikhail eyed her as he moved to the sideboard. “Good together?” he asked her.
“The best,” she said, waving her glass and spilling a little wine, although she didn’t notice. Mikhail, though, had. He brought the bottle to her and filled her glass. “Thank you,” she said, grinning, and Maris saw the flush in her cheeks and the slightly glassy look to her eyes.
In the course of twenty-five years of Wine Downs, Maris had seen it all—including one young man who’d gotten so drunk that he actually slipped right under a table. She was attuned to all the warning signs and used any number of means to avert disaster: suggesting that they eat more food, or drink more water, or perhaps take a glass to their room. But in Jayde’s case, she did none of these things. The last thing she’d suggest to the poor woman was being alone. Nor did she have any intention of stopping her from drinking. Newly widowed, if she wanted to get drunk, then she could get drunk. But Maris was relieved when Jayde took a seat.
“The Schellings were just telling us about photographing the lighthouse,” Maris said to Mikhail.
“What kind of camera are you using?” Mikhail asked.
“Cameras plural,” Andrin corrected, as he fetched more cheese. “I prefer the square medium format, while Mia prefers the 35mm.”
His wife smiled at him. “It’s just his way of delaying the composition choice. Eventually he crops them rectangular.”
“True,” he said, pouring some wine. “But also I shoot with film. Mia is all digital.”
“We have yet to develop the film, of course,” Mia said, “but the results with the digital were disappointing—particularly for a digital artist.”
As the Schellings told Mikhail of their woes, trying to photograph the lighthouse from a boat they’d chartered, Jayde interjected, a touch too loud, “Isn’t it harder from a boat?”
“I think it is,” Andrin said. He tossed a hand in the air. “But the view was incredible.”
“Well,” Jayde said, trying to get to her feet. “Maybe you should–”
Her supporting hand slipped on the table, and when she made a grab for her chair, she inadvertently tossed her wine glass, which crashed on the floor.
“Oh no,” Mia said.
Mikhail immediately went to Jayde and helped her sit back down.
Maris hurried to the sideboard and grabbed a handful of napkins and a small wastebasket. Luckily, the glass had been empty. She quickly picked up the shards, and dropped them into the bin.
“I’m so sorry,” Jayde said, swaying in her seat. “It was an accident.”
“Of course it was,” Mikhail said to her, keeping her upright.
Maris set aside the waste can and quickly stepped over to Jayde. She took her firmly by the elbow. “Let’s see if we can manage the stairs.” Mikhail took the other arm and together they got Jayde to her feet. Maris put her arm around the woman’s waist. “I think we can manage,” she said to the art dealer. “Come on, Jayde,” she said, taking her from the room. “You’re going to be fine.”
25
If Jayde hadn’t been so slim, Maris wouldn’t have managed it. But step by slow step, she was able to support and guide her, and pull them up using the handrail.
“I’m drunk,” Jayde said, clinging to her as they reached the middle landing.
Maris turned them to face the second short set of steps. “Yep,” she said, starting the final climb. “I think that’s safe to say.”
Jayde whipped her head around to look at her, causing them to sway. “You’re a good person.”
Despite the situation, Maris had to laugh. “We’ll see what you think in the morning.” She pulled them up the last few steps. “Last one. Here we go.”
“Up,” Jayde said, as though she were part of a circus act.
With no small amount of relief, Maris steered them to her room, and through the door. As though the goal was in sight, Jayde lurched forward picking up speed. Maris barely kept her from colliding with the bed, turning her so that she could sit, instead of fall.
“I win,” she announced, bouncing a bit.
Maris took a moment to catch her breath, but smiled at the tipsy woman, who was grinning. “Yes, you do,” she said, and thought, we both do.
“Let’s see about these shoes,” Maris said crouching down, but a firm hand clamped down on her shoulder. For a moment, Maris thought the woman meant to stand, but Jayde was simply staring at her.
“Do you wanna know a secret?” she said, still slurring. She checked over Maris’s head, and then from side to side.
Though Maris was pretty sure that she didn’t want to know a secret, it wasn’t going to be easy to stop her. “Everyone loves a secret,” she said, noncommittally.
“Boy, do they,” Jayde agreed, with an exaggerated nod. “But this one’s a doozy.” She leaned forward and Maris had to hold her up so she didn’t topple. “My husband,” she whispered harshly, “and Mikhail.” She glanced at the door. “Were in cahoots.” Then she pushed Maris away and leaned back to see her reaction.
Maris’s brows drew together, as she bent to take off one of Jayde’s shoes. “Cahoots?”
“Don’t play dumb,” the woman said, almost shouting. “Cahoots! You know. They did deals together.”
Maris tugged off the other shoe. “What kind of deals?”
Jayde sighed and rolled her eyes. “Art deals, of course.” She began to sway. “Forgeries.” Her eyes began to close. “They sold forgeries.”
As Jayde flopped backward, Maris lifted her ankles and managed to get her legs on the bed. “They sold…” Maris began, but Jayde had completely passed out, her eyes closed and her mouth open.
Gently, Maris folded the comforter over her legs and hips, turned off the lamp on the nightstand, and quietly closed the door behind her. But as she came down the stairs, she frowned. Mikhail and Langston Spaulding sold forgeries? Together? Mikhail had certainly made a good show of disliking the art critic, if Jayde was right. Although Maris would like to question Galkin about it, she couldn’t imagine he’d admit it.
Only when she reached the dining room did she realize how quiet the house had been. The room was vacant, the backpacks gone, and the empty glasses were on the sideboard. Apparently Jayde’s departure had signaled the end of the evening.
A plaintive and tinny little meow drew her attention to the floor under the dining table. Maris looked underneath. “Mojo,” she said, as he came trotting over. “Thanks for waiting for me.” Her fingers gently ruffled the soft hair behind his ears. “Let’s get this cleaned up.”
She took the cheeseboard and its few leftovers to the kitchen, and then returned for the wine glasses, with Mojo close on her heels. Though she loaded the glasses into the dishwasher, she washed the board by hand and left it in the drying rack. Back in the dining room, she wiped down the sideboard, the table, and the wine cabinet, all the while thinking about what Jayde had said. As she folded the rag up, she suddenly remembered her flash of precognition at the side of the house, and also what Claribel had showed her.
“The nurse paining,” she said to Mojo, as she bent to scoop him up. He purred as she took him to her room, where she tossed the rag in the hamper. As she closed her bedroom door, she determined to have a look at the painting herself.
26
Before Maris had managed to get to the kitchen and help Cookie with breakfast, her cell phone rang. Mojo lifted his head and glared at it on the night stand. Maris petted his head as she picked up the phone and checked the Caller ID.
As she smiled, she accepted the call and said, “Good morning, Jude.”
“Good morning, Maris,” he said, in his bass voice. “I know I’m not calling too early.”
She laughed a little. “Not when you own a small business.” Mojo’s head sank back to the comforter. “What can I do for you?”
“Actually,” he said, “I’ve got a couple things for you. Fir
st, I have a buyer for Glenda’s truck, and I’ve also found a car that I think you might like.”
“So soon,” Maris said. “That’s fabulous. Should I stop by the shop?” Though she’d intended to head over to Inklings, the gas station was on the way.
“If you have time, that’d be perfect.”
“Works great for me. I’ll be right over,” she said. “See you soon.”
When she hung up, she stepped into her shoes and looked at Mojo. “You hold down the blanket fort while I’m gone, okay?” His only answer was a stretch of his front legs before he completely relaxed again. “Good,” she said and grabbed her purse.
27
At Flour Power, Maris pulled in and parked next to the sub shop. Though she was tempted to go in and get a cup of Fab’s coffee, she saw that the big door to the garage was open. As she’d expected, Glenda’s blue truck was there but, to her surprise, so was Jill Maxwell, looking into its bed.
“Jill,” Maris said. “Good morning. What a nice surprise to find you here.”
“Surprise?” the nurse practitioner said looking up at her. “I’m your buyer.”
Jude came around from the back of a car parked next to the truck. “I didn’t know you knew each other.”
Maris stared at the two of them. “Jill wants to buy Glenda’s old truck?” She looked at the big vehicle. “What in heaven’s name for?”
“Saddles,” Jill said. She pointed into the bed. “A couple of hay bales will fit there. The saddles there. Shovel. Tack. Boots.” She grinned at the two of them. “It’s ideal.”
Maris came over to the bed to look inside, half expecting to already see it filled. Instead it was empty, and very clean. “You ride horses?” Dressed in her blue scrubs and white clinician’s coat, she didn’t at all look the part.
Jill moved around to the back of the truck. “I ride dressage.” Maris followed her to the back. “Competition riding all over the area.” She pointed to the bumper where a shiny new metal ball gleamed. “I’ll finally be able to tow my own trailer.”
“Jill is giving up her car too,” Jude said. “I think you might want to take a look.”
Maris turned to him. “Really? Where is it?”
He smiled. “You’re standing right next to it.”
Maris almost jumped as she whirled around. “This car looks new,” she exclaimed. “Why would you give it up?”
“It’s not new, but thanks,” the nurse said. “I bought it before I started riding. It’s just not right for me any more.”
“But it is low mileage,” Jude said. “Here, let me give you a tour.” He started at the back, lifting up the hatchback. “The full width hatchback is nice for shopping.”
Maris nodded. “Which I do quite a bit of, for the B&B.” He pointed to the front wheels. “All wheel drive, for the windy coast roads.” They moved around to the front of the car and he indicated two yellow looking headlights alongside the regular ones. “Fog lights,” he said, then popped the hood.
Maris held up a hand. “Stop. You’ve sold me.”
Jude gave her a pained look. “But I haven’t gotten to the good part yet.”
“It’s all good,” Maris assured him, and he closed the hood. “What are you asking?” she said to Jill.
The nurse was sitting on the passenger side of the truck’s bench seat. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
Jude stepped between the car and the truck. “I’ve taken the liberty of looking up the value of both vehicles,” he said, easily able to reach a hand to each roof. “I’d say it’s pretty even.”
“A trade then?” Jill asked, getting out.
“If you’re both amenable,” he said.
Maris grinned at them. “You have got yourself a deal.” She stuck out her hand and Jill grasped it.
“Deal,” the nurse said as they shook on it.
“I’ll go get the paperwork,” Jude said and headed to the sandwich shop.
They both watched him go. “He’s amazing,” Jill said, just as Maris said, “Wasn’t that nice.” They both laughed, each of them turning to their new vehicles.
“Oh,” Jill said, “I’ve been meaning to ask how Jayde is coping.”
Maris thought of last night’s drinking episode, and how hungover the poor woman would be this morning, but decided to skip that part.
She sighed a little. “I’m afraid she’s having a hard time of it, although I think that’s to be expected.”
Jill nodded. “Grief can be so different for different people.” She paused and put her hands in the pockets of the white coat. “I wonder if a sedative or an anxiety med might help.” Then she shook her head. “Oh, but what am I saying? Jill can take care of that herself.”
Maris’s brows drew together. “Take care of it herself? How?”
“Jayde used to be a nurse, before she met her husband. We talked about it at the exhibit.”
Maris recalled the two of them near the “Pedigreed Nurse.” “Is that why you were both looking at that painting?”
Jayde laughed a little. “That weird thing. Yes, I think we were bizarrely drawn to it.” She paused for a bit. “Honestly, I think we bonded over it.”
Maris remembered how kind Jill had been to sit with Jayde after the murder, and had given her a ride to the coroner and then home. She glanced out the garage door. Now more than ever, she was sure she needed to see that painting.
When Jude returned with the paperwork, Jill signed first. “I’d love to stick around and chat, but I’ve got to go open the clinic.” Jude handed her the keys to the truck and she grinned madly. “Thank you both. This has really made my day—week and month.”
As Maris and Jude watched, she hopped in the truck, started it up, and drove off with a couple of honks and a wave.
“That truck purred like a kitten,” Maris said, looking after it. Then she regarded Jude. “Nice job.”
“I gave both vehicles a tune-up, a few new belts, an oil and filter change, and a good clean.”
Maris stared at him. “You are the one-stop shop. But you can’t run your business by doing car swaps without taking a cut. I insist. You must let me pay for the repairs and all the maintenance work.”
Jude shook his head. “It’s the least I can do. If not for your aunt’s loan to us, we wouldn’t be in business.”
“Fine,” Maris said. “Then consider it paid.”
Jude’s eyes widened. “I’m afraid I couldn’t do that. The two amounts aren’t even comparable.”
Maris made a show of taking her phone from her back pocket. “If you don’t take a digital payment method, I’ll go get my checkbook.”
“There’s no charge,” he insisted.
“I’m afraid there has to be,” Maris insisted back. “Are you running a business or not?”
He cast a glance at the door to the sandwich shop, and then at Maris’s new car. “All right, how about this?” Maris crossed her arms over her chest and waited. “I’ll throw in…ten oil changes and tune-ups.”
Maris thought about it and did a quick calculation in her head. She stuck out her hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
His big hand engulfed hers and they shook. “Thank you,” he said. “And Glenda.”
She smiled up at him. “It’s just good business.” Then she glanced at the car. “I’m going to have to pick this up later, if that’s okay.”
“Sure,” he said. “It’ll be right here, but are you sure you don’t want it for shopping?”
She shook her head. “I’m not going shopping today, I’m going picture hunting.”
28
Maris parked directly in front of the bookstore and hurried inside. She found Minako on the first floor standing next to an open box of books, stacking them on the shelves.
“Minako,” Maris said, breathing a bit hard. “There you are.”
“Good morning, Maris,” Minako said smiling, until she took a good look at her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, just in a bit of a hurry.
”
Minako set the books down. “In a hurry? For a book?”
Maris smiled a little. “No. Sorry. Not a book. I’d like to see a painting from the exhibit. I assume they’re still here?”
Minako inclined her head. “They are, but they have already been packed away.”
“Ah,” Maris said, her shoulders sagging a bit. She was too late. It’d be highly unlikely that someone would uncrate an exceedingly expensive painting just because she asked.
But Minako must have seen her disappointment. “Is there a problem?”
Maris could hardly say that her magical lighthouse suspected that something was wrong with the painting or that a drunk Jayde Spaulding had confessed that her husband and Mikhail Galkin sold forgeries.
“It’s just that I’d hoped to see the nurse painting before it was shipped,” she said.
“Oh, the one by Damien Previs,” Minako said. Her face brightened. “I have something almost as good. Let me show you.”
The shopkeeper led Maris to the artwork section, where the books were arranged in order of the artist’s name. Large, glossy coffee table books filled the shelves. Minako went directly to the ‘P’ section and selected a particularly large volume.
“Damien Previs, A Retrospective,” she said, taking it to a nearby sitting area and placing it on the table. “It has every known work of his, both privately and publicly held.”
“Oh really?” Maris said, suddenly interested. “How lucky for me.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say lucky,” Minako said, opening the book to its index. “We made sure to have at least one book for each of the artists who were exhibited.”
Maris smiled at her. “Of course. How business savvy of you.”
Minako flipped through the pages to a certain section. “All of the nurse paintings are grouped together, as are his other series.”
As the shopkeeper turned the book so that Maris could see it, she discreetly tapped her temple. An image from the exhibit immediately popped into her mind. But when she reviewed the nurse section of the book, all paintings in the same pulp novel style, she found fourteen: “Timely Nurse,” “Serengeti Nurse,” “Royal Nurse,” and eleven more. Yet none were titled “Pedigreed Nurse” or had exactly the same image.
