Artistic License to Kill

by Paula Darnell

  “She told Chip she's going to agree to the plea deal the district attorney offered her to save the expense of a trial. According to what Chip told Susan, Janice will have just enough to pay her lawyer for the work she's already done. She wants to continue to donate the space for the Roadrunner.”

  “I'm surprised she decided to take a plea. Remember how she kept proclaiming her innocence after her arrest?”

  “Who could forget? She accused me of fabricating the whole kidnapping incident, but nobody believed her, not even Lieutenant Belmont.”

  “Who's going to manage the gallery,” Belle asked, “now that Janice is headed to state prison?”

  “I guess she wanted Chip to do it, but he turned her down. He says he has no management skills and isn't interested, anyway. Even though he won't be managing the gallery, he's still going to live there. Janice offered Chip the use of her apartment, rent-free, while she's in prison.”

  “That's quite a perk.”

  “Chip's the only person I know who really likes Janice. He's visited her several times at the county jail, according to Susan. Maybe Janice is hoping that Chip will get inspired to do more mural painting if he's living every day with the scene he painted on Janice's living room wall. It's really quite something to see.”

  “So who's going to be minding the store?”

  “Ralph's filling in temporarily, but he doesn't want to do it long-term, so the members will have to vote on Janice's replacement. I have a feeling Pamela will probably be elected; I think she'd be a good choice.”

  “She's the one who helped get your studio on the tour, isn't she?”

  I nodded.

  “More pie?”

  “I'm tempted, but I'd better pass,” Belle replied, just as the doorbell's chime brought Laddie to his feet.

  I opened the front door to find my mail carrier on the porch. When she'd first met Laddie, she'd been a bit wary of his enthusiastic greeting, but they'd since made friends, and she leaned over to pet him, before handing me a priority mail envelope and asking me to sign for it.

  Curious, I quickly scribbled my name, and she handed over the envelope. As I closed the door, I glanced at it and saw the sender's name.

  “How odd. It's from Ned. I wonder what he's up to now.”

  “Only one way to find out,” my practical friend said.

  “Here goes.” I pulled the tab and yanked off the cardboard strip to open the envelope. I reached inside and pulled out a piece of paper, which was folded in thirds. I shook it, and another paper fell to the floor.

  “Looks like a check,” Belle said.

  I stooped to pick it up, turned it over, and gasped.

  “I don't believe it. Look at this.” I handed the check to Belle.

  “Wow! I've never seen so many zeroes on a check before. What's the scoop?”

  “I wish I knew.” I picked up the folded paper, but there was no note. There wasn't a notation on the bottom of the check, either.

  Something Dustin had mentioned when I'd told him I hadn't received anything for my half of our family home in Kansas City was nagging me. At the time, I'd felt uncomfortable discussing our financial arrangements, and I'd quickly changed the subject.

  “That doesn't sound right,” I said out loud, remembering his words.

  “Hmm?”

  “Oh, something Dustin said when he was visiting me and I told him his father had pretty much claimed to be broke when we divorced.”

  “Looks like maybe he wasn't so broke, after all. Could be he's feeling guilty now.”

  “Maybe.” I suspected that the large check I'd just received had been motivated by something other than Ned's innate generosity and that Dustin had had a hand in it somehow. I doubted that he'd ever admit it to me, though.

  No matter how it had happened, I certainly planned to put my unexpected windfall to good use.

  “What are you going to do with the money, Amanda?”

  I didn't have to think twice.

  “I'm going to buy this house.”

  I'd been lucky to find a house to lease when I'd moved to Lonesome Valley, but renting had always seemed less of a commitment to my new life and my new business than buying a house.

  Belle beamed, and Laddie jumped up and down in excitement while Mona Lisa crept up and pounced on my feet with an approving meow.

  I smiled as I reached down to pet my furry companions. “Looks like they agree: there's no place like home.”

  Sneak Peek!

  Read the first chapter from Vanished into Plein Air, A Fine Art Mystery, now!

  Go to Recipes

  Recipes

  Baked Artichoke-Potato Frittata

  Most of the time, cooks start their frittatas by heating them on a burner and finishing them in the oven or under the broiler. This recipe, the same one Dennis used to make a breakfast frittata with plenty left over so that Belle and Amanda enjoyed it for lunch, too, doesn't require the constant monitoring that stovetop cooking does since it bakes in the oven.

  Ingredients

  8 large eggs

  ¼ cup heavy cream

  1 cup artichoke hearts

  ½ teaspoon salt

  ½ teaspoon coarse ground pepper

  one small baked potato

  ½ cup onions

  ¼ cup sun-dried tomatoes

  Directions

  Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

  Beat eggs, cream, salt and pepper. Do not overbeat the egg mixture. Set aside.

  Use either canned or frozen artichoke hearts. Cut the artichoke hearts into small pieces. If canned artichoke hearts are used, make sure to drain them well and dry them on paper towels. If frozen artichoke hearts are used, they should be thawed and cooked. Peel the baked potato and cut it into small pieces. Mince the onion and sun-dried tomatoes into very small pieces. Combine the potato, artichoke, onion, and sun-dried tomatoes.

  Butter a 9-inch by 9-inch baking dish. Place the vegetables evenly into the baking dish and then pour the egg mixture over them.

  Bake approximately 25 to 30 minutes. To check whether the frittata is done, make a small slit in the center with a sharp knife. If the eggs are runny, continue baking for a few minutes. If the eggs are set, remove the frittata from the oven. Do not overbake. Let set for five minutes before cutting.

  Makes six servings.

  Three-Ingredient Guacamole

  Amanda has learned that guacamole is all about the avocados. Use nice, ripe avocados, and no matter what extra ingredients you add to this basic avocado recipe, you'll be on the right track. Many people add garlic, onion, peppers, tomatoes, or other ingredients, but you can't go wrong with this three-ingredient recipe as long as you start with good, ripe avocados.

  Ingredients

  2 ripe avocados

  1 lime

  ½ teaspoon fine sea salt

  Cut the avocados vertically, from the stem to the bottom, all the way around the avocado. Remove the pits and discard them.

  Scoop out the flesh with a spoon, but avoid scraping it against the shell. Discard the shells.

  Mash the avocados with a fork. The avocados will be somewhat lumpy. If you prefer your guacamole to have a smoother texture, you can use a food processor.

  Juice the lime and add the lime juice and the salt to the mashed avocado. Combine well.

  That's it! You're ready to serve your guacamole.

  If you don't plan to serve it right away, cover the surface with plastic wrap and store in the refrigerator for up to two days.

  Great with tortilla chips, on sandwiches, and served lots of other ways, too. Use your imagination!

  Makes six to eight servings.

  Taco Casserole

  Amanda garnished leftover taco casserole with some fresh corn chips so that the top would be nice and crunchy. Since taco casserole is a meal in itself, all she had to do was add some of her homemade guacamole, some grape tomatoes, and shredded lettuce. Corn chips, grape tomatoes, and sour cream all make good accompaniments, too.

 
; Ingredients

  restaurant-style corn chips

  1 pound ground beef

  ½ medium sweet Vidalia onion

  1 one-ounce package dry taco seasoning

  1 eleven-ounce can niblets corn

  ½ cup black beans

  1 cup sour cream

  1 eight-ounce package shredded Mexican-style cheese blend

  Garnish

  shredded lettuce

  grape tomatoes

  Pre-heat oven to 325 degrees. Lightly grease 9-inch by 9-inch baking dish.

  Mince the onion. Brown the ground beef and onion, and drain off the fat. Sprinkle with taco seasoning and mix.

  Drain the corn. Add the corn, beans, and sour cream and mix.

  Cover the bottom of the baking pan with corn chips. Layer half the hamburger mixture over the chips. Sprinkle half the cheese over the top. Cover with corn chips. Place the rest of the hamburger mixture on top, distributing evenly, and sprinkle with the rest of the cheese. Add crushed corn chips as the top layer.

  Bake 45 minutes. Let sit for 5 to 10 minutes before serving.

  Garnish with shredded lettuce and grape tomatoes. Serve with corn chips, sour cream, salsa, and guacamole.

  Taco casserole is best right out of the oven. If you want to save some of the casserole for leftovers, refrigerate for up to two days. Add more crushed corn chips to the top after reheating so that the top will be crunchy.

  Makes six to eight servings.

  Apricot Cream Pie

  Amanda served Belle this refreshing, no-bake, refrigerator pie on a warm May day. Amanda's secret to making short and easy work of whipping the cream for this or any recipe containing heavy whipping cream is to chill the cream, mixing bowl, and beaters in the freezer for half an hour before whipping the cream.

  Pie Crust Ingredients

  50 vanilla wafers, crushed

  ¼ cup butter, melted

  1 teaspoon cinnamon

  Filling & Topping Ingredients

  1 eight-ounce package cream cheese

  ¾ cup powdered sugar

  1 eight-ounce package dried apricots

  1 four-ounce container apricot/mixed fruit baby food

  1 teaspoon vanilla extract

  1 cup heavy whipping cream

  1 fifteen-ounce can apricot halves in juice

  1 cup granulated sugar

  Place the dried apricots in a container and pour the apricot juice from the canned apricots over the apricots so that they are covered with juice. Reserve the canned apricots to use for the topping. If there isn't enough juice to cover the dried apricots, add water until they are covered. Seal container and refrigerate overnight. To speed the process so that you don't have to wait until the next day to make the pie, place dried apricots in a pan, covered with juice (with enough water added to cover them, if necessary) and heat on medium low until the apricots are rehydrated.

  To make the crust, crush the vanilla wafers into fine crumbs, add melted butter and cinnamon, and mix well. Press into the bottom and up the sides of an eight-inch pie pan. Alternatively, use a prepared cookie or graham cracker crust instead of making your own.

  Put a mixing bowl and the beaters of the electric mixer and the heavy whipping cream in the freezer for half an hour.

  Soften the cream cheese. Once it's softened, add two tablespoons of the apricot baby food, powdered sugar, and vanilla and mix well with an electric mixer until smooth. Drain the apricots, reserving the juice. Pat the apricots dry on paper towels and cut into quarters. Stir the quartered apricots into the cream cheese mixture.

  Remove the mixing bowl, beaters, and heavy whipping cream from the freezer. Beat one cup of the whipping cream so that it forms stiff peaks.

  Fold the whipped cream into the cream cheese/apricot mixture. Pour the mixture into the pie shell. Refrigerate for at least one hour before serving.

  To make the topping, add the remainder of the apricot baby food to the reserved apricot juice. Measure one-half cup of juice and put it in a pan. Add one cup of granulated sugar. Boil about five minutes or until the sugar is dissolved. Cool.

  Before serving the pie, top it with one of the canned apricots on each slice and pour the topping over the pie. Cut and serve.

  Makes eight servings.

  Vanished Into Plein Air

  A Fine Art Mystery

  Chapter 1

  “Look at the crowd, Emma! Brooks made such a big deal that he was inviting only a few people to the private pre-opening of his new gallery, but it seems like half the town is here.”

  “Sure does,” my daughter agreed. “Do you think they'll serve champagne?”

  “I'm sure there'll be plenty. Now that you're twenty-one, you're entitled,” I said. with a wan smile.

  My daughter and I had celebrated our respective birthdays a couple of weeks earlier, just days apart. Unfortunately, I'd now hit the mid-century mark, and I wasn't too thrilled about it.

  “Are you OK, Mom?”

  “Oh, sure. Just thinking about that zero in my age now. It makes me feel so old.”

  “Honestly, Mom, you look way younger than fifty. You look like you're forty—really you do.”

  “That's always good to hear.”

  A year ago, my daughter wouldn't have been able to say the same. I'd still been in shock after my husband unexpectedly divorced me and married his twenty-five-year-old assistant, who was only a few years older than Emma.

  What a difference a year made. I'd moved to a new town in a new state, turned my part-time art hobby into a full-time business, and bought the house, with its own attached art studio, that I'd rented when I'd first moved to Lonesome Valley, Arizona, from Kansas City.

  “Hey, beautiful! You didn't tell me you were coming to the opening.”

  I turned to see Chip, a young artist who flirted with me every time he saw me, although he was only a few years older than Emma.

  “Hi, Chip,” I said, ignoring the compliment. I'd learned that it was best not to take his flirtatious ways too seriously. “Did Susan come with you?”

  “She's right over there.” He pointed to a boutique a few doors down from the gallery.

  I spotted her checking out the shop's window display. When she looked our way, she waved and hurried over.

  “Lonesome Valley Resort's mall is really something,” she said after we exchanged a hug. “I don't know why I've never shopped here before. I'm surprised Brooks didn't move his gallery sooner.”

  “I guess he's turning over a whole new leaf. He has a year's worth of shows by other artists already scheduled, from what I understand, but none for himself.”

  “Sounds like a smart move to me. His artwork's not very good, to put it kindly.”

  “What a crush,” I said as we slowly made our way toward the door of the new Brooks Miller Gallery.

  “Mom, they're having people show their invitations at the door to get in.”

  “I have mine in my bag. Good thing I remembered to bring it,” I said, pulling the elegant, gold-trimmed card from my purse.

  “Aunt Susan?” Chip asked.

  “I have mine, too.”

  “Well, I didn't bring my invitation, but I can be your plus one, I suppose,” Chip said.

  “Sure, that'll work. It looks like most of the crowd is here to listen to the string quartet,” Susan observed, pointing to a group of musicians who were setting up in front of the gallery.

  Susan and I handed our invitations to the young woman who greeted us at the door, and we filed in. We'd been invited to a “private pre-opening showing of paintings by world-renown artist Ulysses Durand,” and, evidently “private” meant just that.

  Although we'd left the crowd behind outside, we could hear the quartet tuning up before they began playing a sprightly number. Brooks, who managed the Lonesome Valley Resort, owned by his family trust, had undoubtedly arranged for the musicians.

  Ulysses Durand's paintings reminded me of Ralph Anderson's, with their precise details and sweeping views of Western landscapes.
Ralph, now in his mid-eighties, had been one of the founders of the Roadrunner Gallery, an artists' cooperative on Main Street I'd joined a few months after my arrival in town. That's where I'd met Susan, Chip, Ralph, and lots of other member artists, and the gallery had become my home away from home.

  “How about some champagne, Auntie?” Chip offered.

  “Don't call me Auntie,” Susan said automatically, for all the good it would do her to object, since Chip never tired of teasing her. “And, yes, I'd love some.”

  “Amanda?”

  “Sure. Thanks, Chip.”

  Chip was about to head toward the bar set up in a corner of the gallery when Emma asked, “Aren't you going to offer to bring me champagne?”

  “Sorry, Emma. Are you sure you're old enough to handle it?”

  “Very funny.”

  “Don't mind Chip, Emma,” Susan advised. “He's always kidding around.”

  “I noticed.”

  Just then, a distinguished-looking man, impeccably dressed in a suit and tie, entered the gallery, and Brooks, looking equally distinguished in his own bespoke attire, rushed over to greet him. When I heard Brooks call the man “senator,” I nudged Susan. “Isn't that Senator Hastings?” I asked her.

  “It sure is,” she confirmed. “I guess we're in good company.”

  We gathered in front of a large oil painting of the Grand Canyon, so that we'd be out of the way. While Susan and I examined the brush work, Emma surveyed the guests.