“Hi, Pamela. I'm Amanda Trent from the gallery. I don't know if you remember me.”
My reminder sparked a glimmer of recognition. “Oh, of course. Is there a problem at the gallery?”
“No. I'm here on another matter.”
I was wondering if we were going to have our conversation standing in the doorway when she finally invited me to come in.
“I was just catching up on some paperwork. It's quiet here on Saturday. Have a seat.”
Pamela sat down on a high-backed chair across from me in the reception area.
“I didn't realize you worked for the Chamber.”
“Just part-time. I try to paint every morning, and I'm at the gallery, too, most days. I like to keep busy. My husband commutes to Phoenix for work, so I'm alone much of the time,” she said wistfully. “Now, how can I help you, Amanda?” she asked, changing the subject.
I explained my dilemma, and Pamela said she'd track down the problem. Beckoning me to come with her, she went to a desk on the far side of the room, pulled a file out of the top drawer, and looked at the paperwork inside.
“Here's the problem: the printer didn't make the changes we requested, and since he didn't send us a proof to check, he's going to have to correct it and reprint our flyers on his dime. I'll get on this first thing Monday morning, and we should have the new flyers ready to hand out by Friday. I'll make sure our ad's corrected, too.”
“I can't thank you enough, Pamela. I was afraid I wouldn't be listed for several months.”
“It's important to be on the tour. Sometimes I get a bit discouraged when only a few people show up on Friday nights, but other times they come in droves. It's worth it then, especially when they buy my paintings or even if they just tell me they like my work. Oh, I almost forgot to check with you. Is your studio a separate building?”
“No. Is that required? It's attached to my house, but there's a separate, outside entrance to the studio.”
“That's perfect. Even though everybody will have a map and a list of addresses, I find it helps to put a portable sign out by the curb on tour days.”
“What a great idea! I'm not too handy, but I'll bet my neighbor can help me figure out how to make my sign.”
Orchestral music suddenly started playing, and the cell phone lying on the desktop lit up. Chip's face appeared on the display, but Pamela grabbed the phone and quickly silenced it.
“Probably some gallery business. I'll call him back later,” she muttered.
I wouldn't have thought anything about it, but Pamela seemed to feel she had to explain Chip's call to me, and that was odd.
“By the way, what do you think of Janice's sister as gallery director?” she asked.
“I guess time will tell,” I said noncommittally.
“Frankly, I think the director should be someone who is already familiar with the gallery. Without Janice, the transition's going to be difficult enough, and Judith hasn't set foot in Lonesome Valley, let alone the gallery, for years, from what I understand.”
The orchestral music sounded again, and Chip's face re-appeared on Pamela's cell phone. She jabbed the phone hastily, and the display turned black.
“I should get going and give you a chance to finish your paperwork,” I said. “Thank you so much for your help. I don't know what I would have done if the flyers couldn't be fixed.”
“Glad to help, Amanda. I'll be seeing you at the gallery.”
As I walked back to my car, I thought about Pamela's strange about-face. She'd been quite friendly and very helpful to me, the opposite of the way she'd acted during my interview. I reminded myself the same could be said of Chip and, to a lesser extent, Janice. I made a mental note to ask Susan if she knew why the committee members had been so aloof and uncommunicative during my interview. It didn't seem like a very good strategy to me. Even though I'd been accepted as a member of the gallery, I'd been almost paralyzed with anxiety before I received my official invitation to join in the mail the day after my interview. If there was any way to spare future potential members the same experience, I wanted to do it. Perhaps putting in my two cents about how the the interviews were conducted would convince the committee members to act differently next time.
The other thing I kept thinking about that struck me as strange was Pamela's dismissal of Chip's phone calls. If she was as worried about the gallery as she'd indicated, why wouldn't she have picked up his calls? On the other hand, maybe she hadn't wanted me to hear their conversation. I hoped she wasn't plotting to somehow take over as gallery director, despite Judith's election to the post.
Judith had already proven herself a formidable opponent, and I doubted she would change her mind. Like it or not, Judith ruled the Roadrunner, at least for the time being.
Chapter 15
I was in a good mood as I drove to the gallery Monday morning. Dustin had called me the night before to let me know that his trip back to Kansas City had gone off without a hitch. The judge and his wife were waiting for him when he arrived at their home. They'd shown Dustin where they wanted to put the painting in a dominant spot on the wall in their den, and Dustin had stayed long enough to help the power couple hang the landscape, before he'd texted me some photos of it in its place of honor. The delivery couldn't have gone more smoothly. My son had gone out of his way to make sure my first commissioned artwork arrived safely at its destination, and I felt very grateful. I knew I'd need to find a good art shipper, but next time, I'd add shipping charges to any out-of-town purchases.
When I reported for my shift at the gallery Monday morning, Judith opened the door for me promptly at nine o'clock. Susan had called me to say she was running late, so I passed the word on to Judith, who didn't look pleased.
She tasked me with dusting the gallery before retreating to the office formerly occupied by her sister and firmly closing the door.
My only customer for the first half hour was the owner of the gift shop across the street, who stopped in to purchase several note cards. Monday morning was bound to be a slow time, and I reconciled myself to watching the clock until my four-hour shift ended at one.
The minutes dragged slowly by. Susan still hadn't shown up by ten, but Judith hadn't emerged from the office, so she didn't realize how late my mentor was.
I was stifling a yawn when I saw Ralph, the elderly man who'd sat next to me at the meeting, coming toward the gallery, carrying a large painting. I rushed to hold the door open for him as he juggled the painting.
“Thanks,” he said as he came in and set the painting down carefully, leaning it against the wall under his other paintings. “You're the new member, aren't you?”
“Yes.”
He snapped his fingers as though he'd remembered something. “You were sitting next to me at our meeting. Amanda, right?”
“That's right. I was here last week when your fabulous painting sold. This must be its replacement,” I said, taking a closer look at the work. I couldn't help noticing its beautiful, but undoubtedly expensive, frame, too.
“Lovely landscape,” I said.
“In a fabulous frame,” Judith added, coming up behind me. I hadn't heard her approach, and I jumped.
“I didn't mean to startle you, Amanda,” she said.
“Sorry. I didn't hear you.” What I didn't say was that had she been wearing the stilettos she'd worn when she opened the gallery door for me, I definitely would have heard a staccato click-click-click on the hardwood floor. I couldn't help looking at her feet. She wore the same type of crepe-soled shoes that Janice had worn each time I'd seen her.
Judith saw me staring at her shoes. She looked a bit embarrassed. “I'm afraid the high heels might damage the floor,” she explained. “I borrowed some of Janice's shoes.” I had the feeling Judith's switching shoes had more to do with comfort than a concern for the floor. After all, customers wore all kinds of footwear when they came into the gallery. I couldn't really blame her, though. I didn't know how women who were on their feet all day managed in sky
-high heels. I thought of Brooks Miller's wife and her pricey Louboutins. After standing all day in her husband's gallery, her feet must be killing her.
Judith and I watched as Ralph re-arranged the display of his paintings. Finally, he lifted his newest work into its place on the wall and stepped back to make sure it was positioned perfectly.
“Wonderful!” Judith exclaimed. “Another winner. Your work is always so . . . ,” she trailed off, seeming to forget what she'd intended to say. Suddenly, she turned to me, “Where's Susan? She should have been here over an hour ago.”
“I don't know. She told me she was running late but didn't say why. Would you like me to call her?”
“Yes. We're supposed to have two members staffing the gallery at all times, and I can't stay on the floor all morning. I have an appointment.”
“I can stay if Susan isn't able to make it this morning,” Ralph volunteered. “I'd just be puttering around at home, anyway.”
“If you don't mind,” Judith said.
“Sure. Not a problem.”
“All right then. I'll be in the office. I'm expecting Lieutenant Belmont. Please tap on the door when he gets here.”
The detective was the last person in the world I wanted to see. If I spotted him on his way into the gallery, I'd definitely hide in the restroom and let Ralph take him to see Judith.
After Judith returned to the office, I decided to let Ralph in on my strategy and my reason for wanting to avoid the lieutenant. Ralph nodded in an absent-minded way when I told him my story, but he agreed to cover for me.
I noticed that he was rubbing his gnarled hands together and wincing in pain. I surmised that was probably the reason he hadn't appeared to be paying close attention to what I'd told him.
“Arthritis is kicking up again,” he said. “Some days it's so bad I can't paint. Just can't get a good grip on my brushes. I do what I can on the good days.”
“From the looks of it, that's quite a lot,” I said, pointing to his latest painting.
Mindful of the possible arrival of the detective at any moment, I looked out the front gallery window every few minutes. Ralph and I were discussing home remedies for arthritis pain when I spotted the detective getting out of his car across the street. Luckily, he didn't see me, and I headed to the restroom after I clued Ralph in.
I felt foolish hiding from the lieutenant, but there was no need to borrow trouble. He hadn't tried to contact me since I'd walked out of the police station, but if he saw me, he might decide to question me again, so avoiding him seemed to be my best course of action.
Listening at the door of the restroom, I could hear voices. I didn't want to come out until the detective went into the office for his appointment with Judith, so I stayed put until there was silence before peeking out. I looked around and didn't see anyone except Ralph, so I joined him.
After Ralph assured me the coast was clear for now, he said, “We might as well take a load off. I doubt that we have more than a handful of customers this morning.”
“It's not busy; that's for sure. I think I'll give Susan a call. I hope she didn't have car trouble.”
Susan didn't answer my call, so I left a message for her. I hadn't gotten the impression that anything was wrong when I'd talked to her earlier. She'd sounded like she was hurrying to get ready, instead. I realized that had been hours ago, though, and I was starting to worry.
“No luck?” Ralph asked.
I shook my head.
Ralph frowned. “It's not like Susan to be late. We were on the board together for several years, and she was always punctual. Never missed a meeting, either.”
“Maybe she'll call me back. If not and she doesn't show up by one, I think I'll go by her house to check on her. Maybe she's not feeling well.”
Lieutenant Belmont had been in the office with Judith for only a few minutes, so I didn't expect their meeting to end so soon, but when Ralph and I heard the office door open, I scurried back to hide in the restroom again while the detective took his leave.
When I came out, Ralph and Judith were standing next to the counter. When I joined them, I was in for a shock.
“I found out why Susan isn't here this morning,” Ralph said.
“Is she OK?” I asked. The somber look on Ralph's face seemed to indicate otherwise.
“She's in jail,” Judith said. “Susan's been arrested for murdering my sister.”
“What? That can't be right! Susan and I came into the gallery together that morning, and we were together when we found Janice. This doesn't make any sense.”
“The lieutenant wouldn't give me any details.” Judith said. “I must say it's hard to believe, though.”
“But what possible reason could Susan have had for killing Janice? She had good things to say about her, even though she admitted they didn't always agree.”
A shadow crossed Judith's face. “You really think the police arrested the wrong person, don't you?”
“I certainly do. I can't imagine that Susan had any motive at all. She doesn't strike me as a dangerous person.”
“I agree. I think the police have it all wrong,” Ralph chimed in. “I hope Susan has a good lawyer. Somebody sure needs to get to the bottom of this and find the real killer. If the police think they already have the right person in custody, they're not likely to look any further.”
Judith shuddered. “If you're right, that means whoever killed Janice is still on the loose.”
Chapter 16
I felt sick. Granted I hadn't known Susan for very long, but I couldn't believe she was a killer.
Judith looked shaken by the news, too. “I'll be in my office,” she said tersely, leaving Ralph and me to speculate about the bombshell she'd dropped.
“Mrs. Trent!” There was no mistaking the source of that bellow. It could only be Lieutenant Belmont, who'd come back into the gallery while Ralph and I were discussing the shocking turn of events. There was no place to hide now that he'd already seen me. I turned to face the detective.
“We didn't finish our interview the other day. I have a few questions for you, and I'd advise you to answer them. If you don't cooperate, you can expect a subpoena from the district attorney when our case goes to court.”
“I can't leave now,” I hedged, unwilling to be trapped in the interview room at the police station again.
“All right. We'll do it right here, right now. There's no time like the present.”
Ralph didn't need any encouragement from the lieutenant to leave us alone. He drifted into the back area of the gallery, out of earshot.
“When did you first see Ms. Carpenter the day of the murder?”
“I already told you. We met outside the gallery a few minutes before nine o'clock.”
“Who found the body?”
“I already told you that, too. We were together when we discovered Janice lying on the floor.”
“Did Ms. Carpenter mention coming to the gallery earlier that morning?”
“No.”
“Did you get here first or was she waiting for you when you arrived?”
“Umm. Let's see,” I said, trying to remember. “She was here first.”
I didn't really want to answer that question because it could look bad for Susan, but I felt I had no choice. Like he said, the district attorney could issue a subpoena for me to testify at trial. I could see where he was going with his interrogation. His theory must be that Susan showed up at the gallery earlier than I did and killed Janice before I arrived. I wished I could have provided a more concrete alibi for her, but I didn't know of anything else I could say that would help her. The bottom line was I really didn't know much at all.
“We're done here—for now. I may have more questions later, and I expect you to make yourself available,” he said before he left the gallery for the second time.
I was so shaken by the news of Susan's arrest and my run-in with the lieutenant that I didn't pay much attention as a few potential customers visited the gallery and Ralph ran
g up a small sale. I felt as though I should be doing something to help Susan, but I was afraid that my answers to the detective's questions had had the opposite effect.
As distracted as I felt, I was relieved when my morning shift ended. When Lonnie and his wife Heather arrived for the afternoon, I introduced myself. Before we had a chance to chat, Judith came out of her office and told the couple she needed to confirm the arrangements for the children's art classes they were scheduled to teach. Ralph and I weren't involved in the classes, so we said our good-byes.
I planned on making a quick stop at the supermarket on the way home. Monday afternoon wasn't a busy time for shoppers, and I quickly found what I needed, went through the self-checkout line, wheeled my shopping cart to my car, and popped open the trunk.
“She walks in beauty.”
Startled, I turned and saw Chip coming toward me with a big grin on his face.
“Chip!”
“Let me get those for you,” he said and began loading my bags into the trunk before I could open my mouth to protest.
For a man whose aunt had just been arrested for murder, he seemed awfully cheerful. Then it dawned on me that he probably hadn't heard the bad news yet.
“Chip, there's something I have to tell you.”
“You're ready to have that dinner with me now,” he guessed.
“No. That's not it.”
“But I'd really like to get to know you better.”
“Chip, this is important. Please listen to me,” I said, ignoring his flirtatious comment.
“I'm all ears.”
“Susan's been arrested for murdering Janice!”
Chip's demeanor changed immediately. “Aunt Susan? I don't believe it.”
“I'm sorry, but it's true. Lieutenant Belmont came to the gallery this morning to inform Judith.”
“No way did Aunt Susan kill anyone. You don't believe she did it, do you?”
“Of course not. I was with her when we found Janice, remember? She was as shocked as I was.”
“Dad hasn't called me. He must not have heard about it yet, either. We have to do something. Convince that jerk of a cop that she didn't kill Janice.”
Artistic License to Kill Page 8
