Where There’s a Will

by Beth Pattillo

  “I want to respect Ellen, but I’m sure Oliver’s been pressuring her to say that. I only wish I knew where she was.”

  “And Dot and Martha say he’s been selling stuff all over the area?”

  “Yes. I thought he was in Chattanooga looking for one of the paintings, but maybe he was there to sell, not buy.”

  “Or maybe he’s doing both,” Livvy said. “Kate, there’s a good possibility he didn’t really lose anything in that fire.”

  “That’s what I’ve been thinking. It makes me wonder why Oliver is putting so much effort into selling off these pieces. And why would he lie about their destruction in the first place? A few family heirlooms couldn’t bring in that much money. I bought a punch bowl that belonged to Ellen’s grandmother for seventy-five dollars.”

  “Do you want me to check into it?”

  “You can do that?”

  “The wonders of modern technology. Annual reports of most publicly held companies right at your fingertips. Of course, if his company is privately held, I might need to check tax records. So, I might not have access to everything, but it should be enough to let us know if Oliver has been strapped for cash. And in the meantime...”

  “I’m going to assume that the last painting wasn’t lost in that fire. Do you think if I dropped by the library later, you could print off a list of antique dealers in the area for me?”

  “What about Chattanooga?”

  “We’ve already looked there. But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try Nashville. That’s where he supposedly attended a board meeting. It’s also where Martha and Dot followed him.”

  “That’s a lot of haystacks for one needle,” Livvy warned. “How much time do you have left?”

  “Not long. I can’t imagine the sale of the property will take very much longer to finalize. I’m going to need some help.”

  “I’d offer, but—”

  “No, don’t worry. I know just who to call.”

  Kate thought of Dot and Martha and their keen interest in Ellen’s mystery. Since there wasn’t much time, she made a plan to divide the list of antique dealers in Nashville and have the pair of them burn up the phone lines.

  “I’ll let you know what I find out,” Livvy said before bidding Kate good-bye and hanging up.

  AFTER CALLING MARTHA AND DOT and asking them to meet her at the diner for lunch, Kate headed back to her studio to work on her newest project. She still hadn’t figured out how to translate Lela Harrington’s style to her stained glass, but she was determined not to give up.

  By the time Livvy called to tell Kate she’d found the information on Oliver’s finances and had the list of dealers ready for her, Kate wasn’t feeling quite as optimistic about either her stained-glass work or solving Ellen’s mystery. She had continued to place calls to Ellen’s apartment at regular intervals, without results, and had begun to contemplate calling the sheriff when Livvy called.

  The women spoke briefly, then Kate headed to the library, hoping that Livvy’s information would break the current logjam.

  “You’ll never guess what I found,” Livvy said the moment Kate walked through the library doors. “C’mon.”

  Livvy took her arm and hustled Kate to her office. Once they were alone, she held out a sheaf of papers. “Look. You were right.”

  “About which part?”

  “Oliver has more motivation to commit insurance fraud than you can imagine.”

  “What did you find?”

  Kate slid into a chair across from Livvy’s desk, and Livvy settled in across from her. She spread out the papers she’d printed.

  “He owes a fortune in back taxes. I found these.” She pointed to a sheet covered in numbers. “County tax records. They show delinquencies going back several years.”

  “So he definitely has motive not only to fake the loss of those heirlooms in that storage-building fire but also to keep Ellen from finding the will.” Kate paused. “It seems strange, though, that he would just now sell off the items he claimed to have lost in the fire.”

  Livvy shrugged. “Perhaps he wanted to wait several years to divert suspicion. Or maybe he’s put off paying the taxes as long as he can and needs the money.”

  Kate brightened. “That fifth painting is out there somewhere. I can feel it.”

  Livvy frowned. “Be careful not to get carried away, Kate. And remember that if Oliver’s that desperate, he could be dangerous.”

  “I’ll remember.” She reached over and squeezed Livvy’s hand. “Thank you so much.”

  “What’s your next move?”

  “I’m meeting Dot and Martha for lunch at the diner. We’ll split up the list of antique dealers and get to work calling them to see if we can track down that painting.”

  “Good luck. I’ll send up an extra prayer for guidance.”

  “I’ll take it. Thanks again for the research.”

  “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Holmes,” Livvy teased. “As long as you’re in the mystery game, I’ve got job security.”

  Kate laughed, then wrinkled her nose. “Neither of us is going to get rich doing this, Watson.”

  Livvy nodded. “True, but then there’s the satisfaction of helping other people. Pretty rewarding in and of itself.”

  “You better believe it.”

  They shared a conspiratorial grin, then Kate headed for the diner to meet Martha and Dot.

  MARTHA WAS THE ONE who struck gold not two hours after they started making calls. She phoned Kate and could hardly speak because she was so excited.

  “Ashley’s Antiques and Collectibles in Nashville has a painting that fits the description I gave to the salesperson.”

  “Did the clerk say what the subject of the painting was?”

  Kate had instructed Dot and Martha to ask about anything in the American Primitive style.

  “The lady said it was a large Victorian home.”

  Kate felt a spark of hope ignite. “That could be the big house where Ellen’s grandmother lived. The last painting is called Where My Heart Rests, so that would fit.”

  “Do you want the address?” Martha asked.

  “Yes, please.” She grabbed a pencil and jotted down the information. “You’re a treasure, Martha. Dot too.”

  “We’re just tickled to help out,” Martha replied.

  “I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Are you going right now?”

  “As soon as I comb my hair and find my car keys.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks, but I think you’ve already provided that.”

  Kate called Paul at the church to let him know she was headed to Nashville.

  “I think we’ve found the last painting,” she said, brimming with excitement.

  “Drive safely,” he cautioned her. “I know you’re in a hurry, but don’t get in too much of a rush.”

  “I may be late this evening. Do you mind fixing yourself a plate of leftovers?”

  “Actually, I’m meeting with the much-maligned Luke Danvers from the community development office. So I’ll be late myself.”

  “You’re meeting with him even though you’ve resigned from the chamber?” Kate smiled.

  “I may not be part of that august body anymore, but I still care about this town. If Lawton and his group won’t play ball, I’ll draft my own team. The governor just announced a new fund for helping smaller towns with economic development. I’m going to talk with Luke to find out how we might take advantage of it.”

  “I’ll be anxious to hear more. See you tonight.”

  KATE HEEDED PAUL’S WARNING and fought the urge to make her Accord break any speed records on her way to Nashville. At last, though, she found the shop in the Berry Hill District of the city. Once a modest residential neighborhood, the small clapboard houses had been transformed into bead shops, hair salons, and even a do-it-yourself dog wash. Ashley’s Antiques and Collectibles inhabited a low-slung weathered building between a doll hospital and a small day-care center.


  A bell tinkled above the shop door when Kate entered a few minutes before closing time. The place reminded her of Smith Street Gifts, only it was more dimly lit. She paused in the doorway for a moment so her eyes could adjust to the gloomy interior. Voices carried from the back of the store, but Kate couldn’t see the people who were talking. Every inch of space was covered in bric-a-brac and furniture. Paintings lined the walls, and Kate immediately began searching for the one she had come to find.

  Her search of the shop quickly proved fruitless, though. Nothing hanging on the walls remotely resembled Lela Harrington’s work. Disappointed, Kate decided to find a salesperson and ask about the painting Martha had called about.

  She moved toward the back of the store, and as she rounded a large armoire that blocked her view, she saw the salesclerk speaking with two customers. Two very familiar customers, as it turned out.

  “Ellen!” Kate hurried forward. Ellen whirled around, as did her cousin Anne. “I’m so glad to see you.” Kate’s relief was palpable.

  “What are you doing here?” Ellen’s face was pinched, her tone unwelcoming. “I thought I told you to stay out of this.”

  Kate stopped, taken aback by Ellen’s harsh words. “I came because Martha said they might have the fifth painting—” She broke off when she saw the canvas lying on the sales counter. Kate stepped closer. Sure enough, it was a painting of the big house at Harrington. “You did find it.”

  “Yes.” Anne stepped between Kate and Ellen. “But as Ellen said, this is a private family matter. We both appreciate your help, but perhaps it would be best if you returned to Copper Mill and let us handle this.”

  “What exactly is it that you need to handle?” Kate asked, every instinct on high alert.

  “It’s nothing, Kate.” Ellen’s face was suffused with color. “Please. Just let it go.”

  “But you have all the pieces to the puzzle now. We can solve it and find the will.”

  Ellen stepped away from the counter, her face subdued. “It’s not worth it, Kate. Not after Oliver’s latest threats. I couldn’t live with myself if anyone was hurt because of my problem, especially you.”

  Suddenly Kate understood Ellen’s disappearance. “Did Oliver threaten to hurt me? Oh, Ellen, no one’s going to do anything to harm me. Besides, we’re almost done now that you and Anne have found this painting.” Kate wasn’t beyond imploring the pair to follow the clues until they found what they were looking for. “You don’t really want to quit now, do you? Otherwise you wouldn’t have come looking for this last painting like I did. Please, Ellen, I would hate to abandon the search for your grandfather’s will when we’re so close to solving the mystery.”

  Anne cleared her throat. “For what it’s worth, Ellen, I think she’s right.” Then she turned to Kate. “Ellen was very concerned about Oliver’s threats toward you, Kate. But perhaps we’re overestimating his strength and underestimating your savvy.” She paused for a moment, then went on. “Like Ellen, I tired of this lifelong family feud. I thought I could cut myself off from it, but when she showed up on my doorstep today, I realized I’ve been wrong about where my obligations lie.” She looked at Ellen. “I know we said we were only looking for this painting so that Oliver couldn’t get his hands on it, but let’s solve this mystery once and for all. If we can’t and Oliver gets his way, then so be it. But we should at least try—”

  “All right, all right.” Ellen held up a hand, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “I know when I’m outnumbered.” She reached over and gave Kate a quick hug. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve your friendship, but I’ll try to keep on doing it, whatever it is. Thanks for not giving up on me, Kate.”

  Kate grinned. “Like I told you before, when I’m puzzling out a mystery, I’m like a dog with a bone. I just can’t stop until I’ve followed the clues all the way to the end.”

  “Then let’s get going. We have all five paintings now, so let’s go study them.” Ellen reached for the painting on the counter, thanked the saleswoman, who had witnessed the whole conversation with a half smile on her face, and then nodded at Anne.

  “You’re welcome to come back with us to Pine Ridge,” Ellen said. “If you’re so inclined.”

  Anne shook her head. “Much as I’d like to, I have to leave town in the morning. My husband’s flying to Europe on business, and I’m accompanying him.”

  “Then I guess it’s just the two of us,” Ellen said to Kate. “Shall we?”

  The three women made their way out of the shop. Ellen slid the painting into the backseat of her compact.

  “I’ll follow you,” Kate said. “That way I can keep an eye on you in case you try to escape,” she teased.

  Ellen laughed, but then her expression sobered. “I’m sorry about disappearing on you, but I was afraid of putting you in danger. You were right. It was Oliver. He came back to my apartment, threatening me with legal action and everything else he could think of. Said I had to quit interfering in his business matters. And then when he threatened you...” She gave a rueful laugh. “I guess I panicked. It’s all been so stressful, with my husband’s death, the move to Pine Ridge, and now all of this craziness about the will.”

  “It’s almost over,” Kate reassured her. “With all the paintings, we should be able to solve the mystery now.”

  Kate called home and left a message on the answering machine so Paul would know of her change in plans. The drive from Nashville to Pine Ridge gave her plenty of time to think. She knew they shouldn’t underestimate Oliver, especially since he’d been resorting to intimidation and scare tactics. But she also didn’t think they should allow him to dictate their decisions.

  Once they were safely ensconced in Ellen’s apartment with the paintings, Kate knew it was time to tell her what Livvy had uncovered about Oliver’s finances.

  “Back taxes? I’m surprised. Oliver was always such a hospital corners kind of guy. So meticulous about everything.”

  “Maybe he got so caught up in appearances that he couldn’t admit when his business started to fail.”

  “It sounds like he really does need the money from Carol’s share of the property.”

  “Evidently.”

  Ellen shook her head. “Just when you think it can’t get any worse. I feel sorry for Carol.”

  “Sorry enough to abandon the search?”

  “No. Even if it distresses Carol, I have to try and save High Hoot Ridge.”

  “And yourself too.”

  Ellen waved a hand. “You know, I’m not even that concerned about my own finances anymore. All of this has made me rethink what I want out of the rest of my life.” She gazed around the room, then looked at Kate. “I thought I’d come home just to mark time until...well, until I died. Like Trevor.”

  “And now?”

  She smiled. “Well, now I realize I have quite a bit of living left to do.”

  “Well,” Kate said, “since we’re not giving up, how about we line up these canvases and see what we can figure out?”

  Ellen nodded enthusiastically and helped Kate spread the paintings across one side of the small living room, propping them against whatever was handy. But try as they might, they couldn’t see the clue that Ellen’s grandmother had meant for her to find.

  “I’m sorry, Kate,” Ellen said after a half hour of intense study, “but I just can’t make heads or tails of it.” Ellen sank onto the sofa. “What on earth could my grandmother have meant to communicate in these paintings?”

  “I’m sure there’s something we’ve overlooked.”

  “They’re just random scenes from Harrington. We’ve gone over them with a fine-tooth comb.”

  “From everything you’ve said, your grandmother wasn’t the kind of person to lead you on a fruitless treasure hunt. And she said it’s something only you could see.”

  “I’ve applied every theory, every kind of art criticism I can think of. But there are no stylistic differences. The color palette is consistent. No classical allusio
ns or secret signs of any kind. They’re just paintings of Harrington.”

  “Okay, you have the big house, the church, the company store and the post office, the pristine scene of High Hoot Ridge, and the ironworks. Maybe they’re a map since they depict actual places.”

  “But the pristine scene of the ridge and the ironworks are the same place. Why would she paint it twice? And why would she have two buildings in one painting but not in the others?” Ellen asked, pointing toward the picture of the company store and the post office.

  “Okay, so they’re not meant to be a map. Maybe it’s a code of some kind, like the first letter of each location.”

  Ellen looked intrigued. “Maybe. H for High Hoot Ridge. I for the ironworks. B for the big house. But do you use C for church or S for schoolhouse? And what about the company store and the post office? Which letter would you use for that painting?”

  Kate sighed. “You’re right. That doesn’t make any sense. Besides, I would think that whatever your grandmother intended, it would have something to do with the pictures themselves. Maybe they tell some kind of story?”

  Both women scrutinized the paintings once more, but after a few minutes, they exchanged a look of defeat.

  “Maybe we should sleep on it,” Kate suggested. “It’s been a long day, and you’ve had enough stress to last you for a while.”

  “Would you mind coming back in the morning?” Ellen asked. “Surely between the two of us—”

  “Wait a minute.” Kate stopped Ellen in midsentence. “I have an idea.”

  “I’m definitely open to new ideas.”

  “I think I might know someone who can help us. But I need you to let me borrow the paintings.”

  “Of course. But who?”

  Kate chuckled. “Someone who probably knows more about all these places”—she gestured toward the paintings—“than anyone else still living.”

  “And that would be?”

  “His name is Joshua Parsons, and he’s a lifelong resident of Copper Mill. He worked in the copper mines when he was young, but he also knows a lot about Harrington and the ironworks,” Kate said. “I’ll take the paintings to him first thing in the morning, and then I’ll give you a call.”