DeeDee nodded. That’s not what you were talking about with Marc, Madame, but I’ll play along, she thought.
“I’m certain there are many decisions to make,” Jake said. “Going back to DeeDee’s original question, can you think of anyone who would want to murder your husband? Did he ever mention employees who were unhappy, or even disgruntled customers by any chance?”
“No,” Simone said. “He only had two people who worked for him. His intern, Renee, had been with him for over a year and from what Philippe told me, she was very happy with her job. He had a restorer who worked for him from time to time, Brady Saunders, but I never heard of any problems there. In fact, Brady was the one who recommended Renee to Philippe. As far as customers, I don’t know. I didn’t work at the gallery or visit there often, but there were no issues I was aware of.”
“When I was at the gallery in Provence,” DeeDee said carefully, “Marc mentioned that Philippe would buy California plein air paintings in the United States and send them to Marc to sell at his gallery in France because that style did so well over there.”
DeeDee watched Simone’s eyes quickly dart away. Simone swallowed and turned back to DeeDee, not catching her eye. “That’s true, but I know nothing of the details. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really do have things I need to do.”
Simone stood up and started walking in towards the hallway. DeeDee and Jake took that as their cue to leave. Simone held the door open with a vacant stare while they exited, both of them thanking her for seeing them. They were hardly down the steps when the door shut behind them with a bang.
When they were out of the driveway and walking back down the street toward their car, Jake turned to DeeDee. “Are you going to tell me what all the shouting was about when we arrived? What were they saying?”
“Nothing like what she told us. Marc told her they could finally be together, and she asked if the thing he said he was going to do when he came to the United States was kill Philippe. Marc was protesting his innocence, and said they needed to make plans to go back to France before someone else thought he was the murderer. Then he threw it back in her face by saying he had thought she would be glad Philippe was dead, since he knew she never loved him. They argued about that for a bit. Mostly, Marc was pleading with her, asking if she was ready to go with him or not.”
When they arrived at the car, Jake held the door open for DeeDee. “I thought you said Simone and Philippe have a couple of children. Do you really think Simone would just up and leave them to be with Marc?”
“I’m just getting to that,” DeeDee said, as Jake got in and they drove off. “Simone did talk about them. Her exact words were, ‘What about the girls? They will never forgive me if they find out what I have done.’ Then she said she needed a little time to think about it and make plans. That’s when Marc stormed out.”
Jake rubbed his chin. “Well, in that case, if they were having a love affair, that could be Marc’s motive for the murder. Kill his uncle and get his wife.”
“That’s true, but it doesn’t solve the problem of the paintings. And what did Simone mean when she said her children would never forgive her for what she had done? Maybe she wasn’t talking about the affair, maybe she meant she had killed their father.”
“I agree. We’ll just have to keep thinking about it until we find the right answer, but for now, it’s getting late and if we don’t get to the ferry terminal pretty soon, we’re going to be out of luck. The commuters will all beat us to it.”
On the ferry ride to Bainbridge Island they stood on the passenger deck and talked about what to do next. Jake put an arm around DeeDee’s shoulders, and she leaned her head on him, gazing out over the Sound. “I need to get ready for a few catering events I have coming up, but would you be able to join me in Seattle tomorrow afternoon?’
“I should be able to,” Jake said, leaning down to kiss the side of her forehead. “Rob and I have some work to do that will take most of this evening and tomorrow morning, and then I’m free. What do you have in mind?”
“When I spoke to Colin James about his party requirements before we went away, I remember he asked if I could meet him at his usual coffee shop.” DeeDee thought for a few seconds, trying to remember the name. “The Daily Grind, that’s the one. He told me he goes there every day from 11:00 in the morning to 2:00 in the afternoon. As it happened, Susie ended up meeting him instead of me. I thought I could try and find out if Colin was there yesterday when Philippe was murdered. Depending on what time he left The Daily Grind, that could be his alibi and it would eliminate him as one of the suspects.”
“Good idea,” Jake said, as the ferry pulled up to the Bainbridge Island terminal. “I also suggest we find out where Renee lives and pay her a visit, and maybe Brady as well. I’ll have Rob get addresses for them.”
“Thanks, Jake,” DeeDee said, reaching for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Looks like tomorrow’s going to be another busy day.”
CHAPTER 16
The next morning, after their usual walk on the beach, Balto made a whining sound when DeeDee started getting ready to go out again. He watched as she pulled on her coat, and he hung his head at the rattle of her keys when she picked them up from the hallway table.
She reached down to rub his fur. “I’m sorry, big guy, I can’t take you with me today. I have to go to work.”
Balto shook DeeDee off, and walked over to the front door, where he lay down blocking her path.
“It’s like that, is it?” she said, laughing. She was on her way to see Susie at the Deelish combination office and kitchen to do some prep work and planning for several upcoming events, and there was no place for a dog there. “I don’t like how you go off in a huff every time I have to do something that doesn’t involve you. And you can quit giving me that mean stare while you’re at it, it’s not working.”
Balto made a sad face, and lay his head on the floor.
“I give up,” DeeDee said, turning to go out the back way. She smiled to herself as she heard Balto get up and follow her. It was the same routine they often played out. Once outside, she locked the back door, settled him in the fenced area of the yard, and made sure he had enough water to last the rest of the day.
When she arrived at Deelish, Susie was already there, making a list of supplies they needed to order for the two events they were catering the following week. Susie had also neatly stacked the receipts for the purchases she had made for Colin James’ party, and entered them into the red hardback notebook they kept for the accountant.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Susie,” DeeDee said as she pulled out a high stool and sat beside her assistant at the counter. “I’d like to give you a raise. Deelish has reached the point where I can charge enough that I’m happy with the amount of work coming in, and I don’t really want to take on many new clients. I know you’re hoping to open your own catering business at some point, but I don’t want to lose you.”
“I won’t say no to a raise,” Susie said, the gap between her front teeth flashing when she smiled. “And don’t worry, I’m not yet at the point of starting up for myself. I like working here, as well as my other two jobs. But if you do ever have any extra work I’d be happy to take it on separately, with your approval, of course.”
“Let me think it over,” DeeDee said. Susie was a hard worker, and when she wasn’t helping DeeDee at Deelish, she knew Susie picked up waitressing shifts at a coffee shop in Bainbridge Island as well as at a high-end restaurant in Seattle. “I’m sure we can work something out.”
She spent the next couple of hours with Susie working on planning menus, finalizing the online shopping order, and agreeing what items Susie would pick up fresh from the farmer’s market before their next event, a Bar Mitzvah in an outdoor tent at a home on Mercer Island.
There was a knock on the door a little after noon, and Jake entered, holding three Starbucks coffees. “My hero,” DeeDee said, faking a swoon, as he passed a cup to them.
&nb
sp; “Are you ready to catch the ferry to Seattle?” Jake asked, his blue eyes dancing.
“We were just finishing up,” DeeDee said.
Susie nodded. “You guys go on, and I’ll lock up here. I want to test a recipe for cookie bars before I leave.”
Jake hesitated. “Maybe we should stay, in that case.”
DeeDee pushed him toward the door, with a backward wink at Susie. “Thanks, Susie, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Do you need to go home first to see to Balto?” Jake asked as they walked out to his jeep. “We’ll go in my car, and I’ll drop you back here to pick yours up later.”
“No, I’ve taken care of him for the day. Although he’s developing quite an attitude. If I was a pushy dog-mom, I’d be trying to get movie auditions for him. As it is, he’s a diva enough already.”
Jake opened his mouth to speak, and she gave him a warning look, knowing that he was about to give her the benefit of his doggie wisdom. “And no, I don’t need your advice, thank you very much. I’m perfectly capable of dealing with Balto’s quirks by myself.”
“As you like,” Jake murmured, getting into the car. “As you like.”
They took the ferry to Seattle and retraced their route back to the University of Washington, where they had been the day before.
“Rob said Renee lives with Brady Saunders,” Jake explained, as they walked through the spent cherry blossoms scattered on the ground. “He was able to get her class schedule and she had an exam this morning, but she should be free this afternoon. Usually, if she’s not in class she can be found in the library or at the Germain Plein Air Art Gallery. I took a guess she’s more likely to be on campus, since I don’t know if the gallery has re-opened after the murder.”
They asked a passing student the directions to the library, and found it after a five-minute stroll through the Quad. At the reception desk, DeeDee explained that they needed to urgently speak with Renee LaPlume concerning a personal matter. “Would you be able to page her to see if she is here, please?”
The receptionist snarled back at her. “Nope. We don’t do that. I’m not a concierge, I just check the books in and out and collect the fines.”
DeeDee thought there were scanning machines that did that, but she didn’t want to argue with the snarly librarian with badly drawn-on eyebrows.
Jake took some cash out of his pocket and peeled off a hundred-dollar bill.
“I know you’re not a concierge,” he said politely, pushing the bill across the counter. “But would this help?”
The woman eyed the bill under Jake’s hand, and promptly made an announcement on the public address system for Renee La Plume to come to the reception desk. “Take a seat over there,” she barked, nodding to some nearby chairs, while Jake lifted his hand so she could take the money.
“Thank you,” Jake said, giving her his best fake grin before steering DeeDee toward the seating area.
The young woman who appeared at the reception desk several minutes later was of medium build and dressed in a light green sweater dress with knee-high boots. She wore a cheap necklace with pasted-on colored glass gemstones, and her straight, shoulder length mousy hair was tucked behind her ears. The librarian pointed to where DeeDee and Jake were waiting, and scowled before going back to her work.
DeeDee, seeing the young woman’s worried look, stood and approached her.
“Renee?” she said softly. The woman nodded. “I’m DeeDee Wilson. I was at the gallery when Philippe’s body was found.” She watched Renee’s chin wobble, and had an urge to comfort her. “Would you mind if my friend and I talk to you for a few minutes? I promise we won’t take up much of your time.”
“Fine,” Renee said quietly. “I need to leave soon anyway. I’ve had exams the past couple of days, but now they’re over and my boyfriend and I are taking a trip.” She followed DeeDee over to where Jake was waiting.
“This is Jake Rogers, a private investigator,” DeeDee explained when they were seated. “We are both very sorry about what happened to Philippe.”
“Thank you,” Renee said. “It’s been a big shock for me. I saw him that morning, before…” She looked away, and sniffed.
“It must be very difficult for you,” DeeDee went on. “The reason I’ve developed an interest in the case is because of some paintings I saw in Provence, and ones I’ve seen here in Seattle that were purchased at the gallery.”
Renee stared at DeeDee, her face not registering anything when DeeDee referred to the paintings she’d seen in Provence.
“Jake and I know the chief of police,” DeeDee continued, “and thought we’d see if we could find out something that might help catch whoever is responsible for Philippe’s death.”
“I’ve been thinking about this ever since I heard he was murdered,” Renee said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I can’t think of anyone who would have a reason to murder him. He was at work most of the time. I spend a lot of time at the gallery, and he did not seem to have any enemies.” Her eyes shone as she spoke of him. “I think Philippe was a wonderful man, and I admired him greatly.”
“I see,” DeeDee said, wondering if Renee’s admiration for her former boss had been reciprocated in any physical way by Philippe.
“We heard Philippe only had two people who worked for him,” Jake said, “you and the man who did some restoration work on paintings at the gallery. Do you know your co-worker well?”
A flush of pink spread across Renee’s cheeks. “Brady? Yes, we’ve been seeing each other for some time. I met him when I was starting the art program at the university and Brady was finishing his Master’s degree. It was Brady who introduced me to Philippe when I was looking for some work experience.”
DeeDee gave Renee a smile of encouragement, and the young woman continued. “I was a little older than most of the other students when I started college, but I had to work when I finished high school and save enough money to go to college. My parents didn’t think college was a priority for a woman. They had spent their money helping my brother get a college degree.” She shrugged. “That’s just how it was in our house.”
DeeDee wanted to know more about Brady’s restoration work. “Does Brady paint on his own or just restore paintings?” she inquired.
“As far as I know, he just restores paintings,” Renee said. “He uses the second bedroom in our apartment for his studio. I’ve tried to encourage him to paint his own stuff, but he seems to have given up. He doesn’t like me going in there, so I respect his privacy.” She chewed on her lower lip. “Brady’s a brilliant restorer, and it paid him very well. He told me once it was pretty much impossible for an artist just starting out to sell his works, and he’d decided to go the route of restoration instead. Now that his income has disappeared overnight, Brady wants us to leave Seattle. He thinks we would have much better opportunities somewhere else.”
“Do you know of any customers who were unhappy about anything?” Jake asked.
Renee thought for a while before shaking her head. “No, because Philippe had superb pieces and the customers were always happy with what they bought. The works in the gallery were so well thought of they were often loaned out to be in other shows. They were so popular that when someone bought a piece from the gallery, it often was a little while before the customer could take home the painting they had bought. Even so, the customers didn’t mind because they were so happy to get it.”
“When someone bought a painting,” DeeDee said, “did Philippe give the customer information about the history of the piece as part of the purchase? I remember when I bought one years ago, the gallery owner gave me a printout of everything about the painting.”
Renee nodded her head vigorously. “Yes, of course. Philippe did the same. When the customer picked up the painting, they were always pre-wrapped in bubble wrap, and he’d give them a photo of it as well as the information in a large envelope.”
“That’s really helpful, thanks, Renee.” DeeDee looked over at Jake. “I don�
��t think I have any more questions, do you, Jake?”
“I can’t think of anything else either.” He turned to Renee with a smile. “Thanks for your time, Renee. We won’t keep you any longer.”
Renee walked them to the door of the library, Jake giving the grumpy receptionist a cheery wave on the way past.
“Renee looked deep in thought as we were leaving,” DeeDee commented outside. “Do you think she did it?”
“I doubt it,” Jake said, “But I’d still be interested in meeting this Brady Saunders guy. I think I’ve figured out what kind of a scam Philippe was running, though.”
“What do you mean?”
They got into the car. “What if,” Jake said, as he backed out of the parking space, “the painting the customer got was not the one they bought, but a very well-done copy of it? The customer thought it was the same painting because of the photo and all the official information that came with it. When they got it home and took the bubble wrap off, I’m betting the buyer would probably never notice the small little details that might be different from the original. Don’t forget, by that point it’s probably been a couple of weeks since they saw the original. Maybe that’s why he always bubble wrapped the painting for the customer, so they didn’t look at it too closely when they picked it up from the gallery.”
DeeDee stared out the window. “It’s plausible,” she said with a sigh. “But since Philippe is dead, it might just be impossible to prove your theory.”
*****
At The Daily Grind coffee shop, Jake ordered a grilled pancetta mac and cheese panini and a coffee.
“I’ll have a pain au chocolat,” DeeDee said, nostalgically thinking of Provence, “and a raspberry tea.”
They sat at a table by the window. The coffee shop was small, and a quick glance around at the handful of wooden tables told DeeDee it seated no more than forty people when it was full. Even though it was early afternoon, there was still a line for takeout, which was where DeeDee presumed the business made most of its money.
Murder at the Gallery: A Northwest Cozy Mystery (Northwest Cozy Mystery Series Book 6) Page 11
