Every Picture Tells A Fury (Federal Bureau of Magic Cozy Mystery Book 8)

by Annabel Chase

  He perked up. “Oh, is it one of Nari’s?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, it is.”

  “She does fabulous work. I happily sell paints to someone of her caliber.”

  “You don’t sell to everyone?”

  He sucked in his cheeks. “Heavens no. I’m very particular about my clientele. They must be artists capable of doing my paints justice.”

  “How long have you been selling to Nari?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. She’s been a loyal customer for years now. Her work is exquisite. I love perusing her gallery.”

  “Do you attend her monthly exhibits?”

  “Sometimes. I couldn’t go to the last one. I had a hot date.”

  “When’s the last time you had any contact with her?”

  He stroked his chiseled chin thoughtfully. “The day of her most recent exhibit. We discussed an order of new paints for an upcoming project and she took a sample of one of my new lines.”

  “How frequently would you say you communicate with her?”

  He looked at me askance. “Is Nari in some kind of trouble? Is she the reason you’re here?”

  I adopted a flirtatious tone. “Answer the question first and maybe I’ll tell you.”

  “We talk once or twice a week. Sometimes she’ll come by here to see what I’m working on or vice versa. She loves the process as much as I do.”

  “Are you aware of any issues? Was she having trouble with anyone? An ex-boyfriend or girlfriend, maybe?”

  He set down the paintbrush and folded his arms. “Now you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

  “Nari is missing. That’s what’s going on.”

  His thick eyebrow drew together. “What do you mean by missing?”

  “I mean her gallery and apartment were found empty. There’s evidence of a possible struggle. Some spilled paint.”

  Kirby frowned. “Paint. In the gallery?”

  I laughed. “Is that so strange? It’s an art gallery.”

  “Yes, but not a studio. Why was she working in the gallery?”

  “She has a separate studio?” I asked.

  “Of course. She doesn’t work in a fishbowl. Anybody can walk in off the street and interrupt her in the gallery. That would drive her mad.”

  “She was painting in the gallery that morning when I went in. She was starting a new project, in fact.”

  Kirby pulled a face. “That’s odd. She doesn’t normally work there.” He reached into the pocket of his apron for his phone. “I can give you the address of the studio. It’s secluded so that she isn’t disturbed.” He read the address aloud and I made a note of it.

  “What about problems? Anything you’re aware of—a relationship gone sour? A difficult family member?”

  Kirby shook his head. “We didn’t tend to talk about personal matters. We mostly discussed our respective crafts.”

  “What was the project you discussed the other day? Did she offer any details?”

  Kirby paused thoughtfully. “She asked if I had any paints that could evoke the desired mood of the viewer.”

  “And do you?”

  “That’s why I gave her the sample. It was close to her request.”

  “Did she say what she was trying to achieve?”

  “No, and I didn’t ask. My brain was off and running at that point on ways to improve the line. Once inspiration strikes, I have to follow the thread or I risk losing it.”

  “If you hear from Nari or think of anything that might help, will you call me?”

  He bumped me with his hip. “Might call you anyway if you like.”

  “I’m…not available.” I couldn’t actually say I was in a relationship without revealing too much.

  “Oh, lady agent. I didn’t mean it that way. I don’t swim in your pond. I just meant for fun. You seem like good company.”

  My cheeks burned from embarrassment. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

  He flicked a dismissive hand. “It’s the eyelashes. They flirt all by themselves.”

  “Thanks for the studio address.”

  As Kirby turned back to his creations, he snapped his fingers twice again. Madonna’s Into the Groove kicked in and I found myself walking back to the driveway in step with the beat.

  Chapter Eleven

  I drove back into town, thinking about types of statues I might purchase from Kirby Germain for my father’s lawn, once the magic paint was perfected. Of course, most of my ideas were geared toward tormenting my dad rather than delighting him—a family trait rather than a fury trait. I laughed to myself, picturing a statue that morphed into a male stripper complete with gyrations and a G-string. My dad would be outraged, especially when my mother started lurking in his yard for the free show.

  I arrived downtown and parked as close as I could to Magic Beans so that I could run in and grab drinks for Chief Fox and me before heading to the office. As I exited the car, I noticed a familiar figure on the sidewalk. Sassafras ‘Sassy’ Persimmons paced back and forth, her blond ponytail swinging angrily with each step.

  “Sassy, is everything okay?”

  Her red-rimmed eyes met mine. “Of course. Why wouldn’t everything be okay? What do you know?”

  I recoiled slightly. “Well, you’re pacing the sidewalk angrily and muttering to yourself. Since you’re not my Grandma, I assume there’s a problem.”

  She buried her face in her hands. “Nothing will ever be okay again. My life is over.”

  I gave her back an awkward pat, unsure how to handle a distressed Sassy. “What happened? Did you lose your job?” Sassy sold advertising for The Buttermilk Bugle so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility given the state of the newspaper business.

  She removed her hands from her face. “Tanner’s cheating on me.”

  Oh, wow. All my potential responses dissipated and karma’s a bitch didn’t seem to be the appropriate reply.

  My gaze flicked to the coffee shop and back to Sassy. I couldn’t leave her out here like this. Gossip would spread faster than an STI in a nursing home and I knew how horrible it felt to be the subject of discussion.

  I took her by the shoulders and steered her toward the diner. “Come on. Let’s get a snack at Gouda Nuff and you can tell me what happened.”

  “Tanner’s an idiot. That’s what happened.”

  As we settled into the booth, I sent a quick text to Clara and then another to Chief Fox to tell him where I was and that I’d be delayed.

  Sassy wiped her nose with a stack of napkins that the waitress kindly provided after one look at the former cheerleader’s blotchy and mascara-streaked face. It felt strange to be alone with her in a time of crisis. I had no experience in this area. Clara was the empathetic one. I usually nodded sagely and tried to keep my mind from wandering, not because I was heartless, but because I was raised to believe that emotions were uncomfortable and best ignored unless you were hexing someone or seeking revenge.

  “Are you sure he’s cheating?” I asked.

  Sassy nodded emphatically. “Definitely. I think he’s with her now.”

  My stomach clenched as unpleasant memories resurfaced of my own discovery involving Tanner and Sassy. “Is the woman local?”

  She blew her nose into another napkin and shook her head. “He’s been traveling a lot. I think she’s in Atlanta.”

  “Have you confronted him?”

  “Not yet. First I need to decide what I want.” She tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Maybe this is a blessing in disguise.” She peered at me across the table. “Is that how you ended up feeling? That it was a blessing in disguise?”

  I didn’t know how to respond. “Yes and no,” I finally said. “It’s complicated.”

  “I’m sorry that I did this to you. It’s awful.”

  The waitress delivered a plate of cheese fries to the table. “On the house.”

  “Oh, thank you so much.” Sassy took the fry drenched in the most cheese and shoved it into her mouth. “Now I�
�m going to get fat on top of everything else.”

  “I’m sorry, Sassy. You don’t deserve this.”

  She crumpled a napkin into a tight ball. “You really believe that? You of all people?”

  I exhaled softly. “I don’t wish you any ill will. You must know that by now. And I don’t wish Tanner any either.”

  “I do,” she said. “I wish him ill will out his ears and nose and right down the front of his pants. Right now, I want to set fire to his baseball card collection and force him to watch it burn to ash.” She crumpled more napkins in an angry first.

  “I know the feeling. Trust me.”

  Sassy sank against the booth. “You don’t think it makes me a horrible person to have violent, vengeful thoughts?”

  “If you didn’t, I’d think you were a robot.”

  Her teary eyes met mine. “Is this how you felt when you found out?”

  “This isn’t about me, Sassy. Besides, that was years ago. We were young and stupid.” And one of us was hexed.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She took another fry. “Well, I guess I didn’t care at the time because I didn’t like you very much, but now that I do like you, I feel awful about it.”

  “It’s okay, Sassy. Tanner and I didn’t have a future together. It was only high school.” There was no point in making her feel worse by telling her about the years of insecurity that followed.

  She stared blankly at the plate of fries. “What if he has no intention of breaking up with either one of us? If I don’t confront him, how long will he be willing to live a double life?”

  “Tanner still has a lot of maturing to do.”

  “You think?” she scoffed. “His favorite pastime still involves video games. What does that mean for children? He won’t play with them until they’re old enough to join them?” She shook her head, her jaw tightening. “Maybe I should tell him to pack his bags and move to Atlanta to be with her.”

  “What if she moves here instead?” I couldn’t imagine Tanner living away from his mother. Gale Hughes wouldn’t allow it. Tanner was her entire world and it showed.

  Sassy recoiled. “Do you think he would?”

  “I don’t know. I think, as you said, you need to decide what’s best for you. What you want. And go from there. I know the future seems bleak, but as Neville’s Nana Pearl liked to say, this too shall pass.”

  She managed a small smile. “I totally get why you and Clara are such good friends. I feel like she would’ve given the exact same speech.”

  Although I was doubtful, I forced a smile. “Great minds think alike.”

  Sassy leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Did Clara tell you that someone sent her a check for five thousand dollars?”

  I had an idea who that ‘someone’ was and that he’d summoned a demon in the basement of the bookstore recently. “Lucky girl. She deserves it though.” Clara worked hard and the newspaper business was a dying industry with anemic wages.

  Sassy scrunched her nose. “I guess I have a lot of thinking to do before he comes home.”

  “Clara and I will help you through it. I promise.”

  As if on cue, Clara flew through the diner door and made a beeline for the booth. “Sassy, I am so sorry.” She jumped into the booth and nearly crushed Sassy with a sympathetic hug. Clara flinched as she released her hold on Sassy. I knew it was hard for her to touch someone when their emotions were firing on all cylinders.

  “Where were you? I called you three times,” Sassy said.

  “I was in a meeting with Cal and my phone was off.”

  “Did you tell him a version of what happened at the bookstore?” I asked, keeping my question deliberately vague for Sassy’s sake. As the owner of The Buttermilk Bugle and a descendant of a founding family, I was curious what Calybute Danforth had to say about the actions of the Puritan Club.

  The waitress returned with three glasses of iced tea and set them on the table. “Saw you heading in,” she said to Clara.

  “Can we also get pretzel bites with cheese dip?” Clara asked, swiping a fry from the plate. “This situation warrants more carbs.”

  “Coming right up.” The waitress departed as quickly as she’d appeared.

  “You girls are the best,” Sassy said, sniffing. “What was your meeting with Cal about?”

  “Oh, an article I was supposed to write.” Her gaze darted to me. “I can’t write it, so I was asking for another assignment.”

  “That’s too bad,” Sassy said. “Was that the one about the Puritan Club?”

  “Yeah, it turned out to be a dead end,” she said. “Nothing to report.”

  “Can’t say I’m surprised. Just the name of the group is snooze-worthy. Who cares about Puritans? They’re so three centuries ago.” Sassy squeezed the slice of lemon into her iced tea.

  “We should do a girls’ night,” Clara said. “That will cheer you up.”

  “I can’t tonight,” I said, “but how about tomorrow night?”

  Sassy nibbled on a fry. “Sounds good to me. Dancing always makes me feel better.”

  “Is that Chief Fox outside?” Clara asked, kicking me under the table.

  Sure enough, he hovered in front of the window with Achilles in his arm. The pug’s tongue was long enough to be mistaken for a leash.

  “I hate to do this to you, but I’m supposed to have a meeting with him now. I’ve been helping him search for a missing artist.”

  Sassy blinked. “Is she into cyber crimes or something?”

  “We don’t know,” I said truthfully. I tossed money onto the table. “I’m so sorry about everything, Sassy. See you tomorrow night.”

  I hurried from the diner and caught up with the chief. “Hey, Achilles.” I stroked the small dog’s head and his tongue licked my hand as I withdrew it. “Why are you carrying him?”

  “He was tired.”

  I smiled. “You spoil him rotten.”

  “He deserves it. Don’t you, boy?” Achilles licked the chief’s nose.

  I told him about my conversation with Kirby Germain and the art studio.

  “Seriously? He wasn’t wearing pants?”

  I laughed. “That’s the part you focus on?”

  “Well, you have to admit that it’s not the typical way to dress for work.”

  “I don’t know. A nice pair of chaps to match your uniform. Super sexy.”

  He inched closer to me. “I like where this is going.”

  Neville wasn’t wrong about calling me an infernal goddess. I was about to combust right here on the sidewalk thanks to the heat between us. I edged away before someone noticed us.

  “I’m going to check out the art studio,” I said.

  “I have her brother and a cousin to visit. Should we divide and conquer?”

  I nodded. “Meet you at Chophouse at seven?” I couldn’t mention the supernatural council meeting on a public sidewalk.

  He set Achilles on the pavement. “Looking forward to it.”

  The art studio was a converted windmill located on a lonely stretch of Danforth Drive between two open fields. I parked behind a black Honda SUV and went to peer in the window for any clue to its owner’s identity. An Orioles baseball hat sat on the front seat, but no other personal effects were visible.

  I continued to the entrance and noticed the door was ajar, so I poked my head inside. A bald, portly man sat cross-legged on a yoga mat with his eyes closed. He seemed to be in a meditative state. As I inched closer, I noticed that he wore earbuds.

  “Hello,” I said loudly.

  His eyes popped open and he blinked in confusion. “What? Who? Can I help you?” He tugged the wire and relieved his ears of the earbuds.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m looking for Nari. I thought this was her art studio.”

  “It is, sort of. We share it.” He climbed to his feet and extended a hand. “Kirk Hastings.”

  “Nice to meet you, Kirk. You share it? Is Nari your girlfriend?”

  Kirk ru
bbed his bald head. “I think my wife might object. No, this is a co-op space. Nari and I split the cost and we have a schedule with our allotted times.”

  I looked around the interior of the old windmill. It was pretty barebones with a few chairs, a small table, a mini-fridge, and canvases stacked against the far wall. “Are you an artist too?”

  He laughed. “Me? No. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.”

  “But you rent an art studio?”

  “It’s only an art studio when Nari’s using it.”

  “Then what is it for you?”

  “Whatever I’m in the mood for. Lately I’ve been learning yoga. I can’t practice at home. My wife and kids won’t leave me alone long enough.”

  “No room for a man cave?”

  He offered a rueful smile. “Not really.”

  “Do you know Nari?”

  “I don’t. We use the space at different times so we’re never here together.” He smiled. “If this were a rom-com, it would be an awesome ‘meet cute,’ except for the wife part.”

  “Does your wife know about this place?” I asked. My guess was no. She might be annoyed to learn that Kirk was living his best life while she had to hold down the fort by herself.

  “No. She thinks I’m at work.”

  Sassy’s desire for vengeance flashed in my mind. “Is there any chance your wife might’ve found out about this place and thinks you’re having an affair with Nari?”

  Kirk clutched his belly and laughed like an amused Santa. “Shana would have to stop focusing on the house and the kids for five minutes and I don’t see that happening for another fifteen years or so.”

  “Your kids are young, huh?” I thought of Anton and Verity and their struggles to balance date nights with their full-time careers. It wasn’t easy.

  “Young and active. I think they even run amok in their sleep.”

  “Hence the yoga?” I asked, gesturing to the mat on the floor.

  “I thought maybe I’d get a good routine going and then convince the family to join me. It’d be something we could enjoy together.”

  “Plus, it would take the energy level down a few notches.”