No Filter

by Heather Day Gilbert

  I pulled into my parking spot outside my house, and Bo eased his truck in behind me. He accompanied me up to my back porch and waited until I unlocked the door and stepped inside. Coal roused from his bed and thundered over to me.

  "Get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow." He sounded a little grouchy, but it was understandable given his run-in with Jedi this morning, not to mention my desperate call tonight.

  I nodded. "Thanks again." Closing the door and locking it, I turned back to Coal, whose tired eyes were nonetheless expectantly fixed on me.

  "Let me get you a treat," I said, extracting one from the canister for him. "You're a good boy."

  He snatched it up and gobbled it, then wagged his massive tail.

  "Time for bed now," I said, leading the way upstairs. I knew one thing for sure—I needed to check out that tree Gerard had marked. But would Bo agree to come along with me, even though it was venturing into Ivy Hill territory, though not so directly? Maybe we could sneak into the woods from the roadside somewhere...

  I threw on my red reindeer pajamas—some of the only long-sleeved PJs I'd unpacked at this point—and snuggled under my covers. Tomorrow was a new day, as Scarlett O'Hara always said, and I was hoping it'd be less eventful than today.

  My phone rang and woke me up at 5:35 in the morning. I groaned, but saw that it was Summer, so I picked up. "Hello?"

  Summer was so congested I could hardly understand her. "I'm not going to be able to bring the dogs today. I'm sick."

  "Aw, you sound miserable. I'm so sorry," I said. "I'll drop by and get them."

  "Most of my staff is sick," she continued, barking out a not-so-muffled cough. "I'm closing the shelter for today."

  "Oh," I said. "You want me to get the key and pick up the dogs?"

  "No," she said firmly. "You'll get sick and this cold is miserable. Maybe it's even the flu—who knows?"

  "Okay, well, thanks for calling. We'll manage just fine. Hope you get to feeling better."

  She said goodbye and I rolled over to go back to sleep, but my thoughts were racing. People were going to come in, expecting to kick back and pet dogs today just like any other day at Barks & Beans. I couldn't let them down.

  Coal stretched and yawned. I smiled.

  "Thanks for volunteering," I said. "We might not have a lot of pups today, but we'll have one oversized dog who can illustrate just how successful shelter placements can be. You'll be my poster child, Coal."

  I gave Coal a brushing and a good long garden walk before we headed over to the cafe. Bo was unloading a shipment in the back room, so I snagged a scone and went in to tidy the doggie room. Coal stayed close to me, excited about his new adventure, but still a bit apprehensive.

  The hours raced by uneventfully, punctuated only with customers gasping over Coal's size and friendliness. Every time they asked how I'd gotten him, I was happy to recommend the shelter.

  I was surprised when Dylan strode in just before lunchtime. I'd struggled with misgivings about the suave art gallery owner, but ever since my visit to storage building 6A, I had even more reason to distrust him. I'd found three words scrawled in Gerard's planner—a place he must've visited just two days before he was murdered. Those words were "The Discerning Palette."

  Dylan's art gallery.

  Had Dylan told the police about Gerard's visit to his gallery? I didn't think so. Which meant he was very actively hiding something.

  Dylan picked up a coffee and a muffin before striding over to me. "Macy," he said, obviously happy to see me. He was about to step into the dog area when Coal sidled up beside me and sat down.

  Dylan froze, his coffee and muffin clutched tight. "Is this—"

  "My dog," I finished. "Dylan, meet Coal."

  Dylan gave a stiff smile. "He's quite handsome."

  Coal's mouth hung open and his teeth were on full display, even though he was merely panting a little.

  Dylan was obviously uncomfortable. "Perhaps he doesn't want me getting near you?"

  I remembered Dylan had said he was a cat person, and that couldn't be more evident. Although Coal's body language was hardly foreboding as he gave a slow wag of his tail, Dylan seemed cowed by the Dane's gigantic size.

  I should have set him at ease, but I was irritated that Dylan hadn't been up front about all his run-ins with Gerard when I'd asked. "It's probably okay if you come in here, but I can just have a seat with you out there, if you'd rather?"

  Dylan seemed to relax. "That'd be great."

  I gave Coal a toy and washed my hands, then stepped into the cafe. We sat at a table where Coal could still keep an eye on me.

  "I actually came here today with a purpose," Dylan said, offering me a bite of muffin.

  I declined, since it was nearly time for my lunch break. "Really? And what's that?"

  He grinned, which highlighted his strong cleft chin. How very Cary Grant. "Do you remember I mentioned we're doing an art gallery showing? It's coming up on Monday night, and I wanted to give you a personal invite. I think you'd enjoy it—didn't you say you're a Bierstadt fan? Of course, we don't have any of his paintings on show—I couldn't even fit one of his huge paintings in my gallery—but we'll be showing some Hudson River School paintings with that same luminous quality." He took a sip of coffee and slid a flyer toward me.

  My eyebrows rose as I looked at some of the paintings that would be featured. "That's some pretty impressive stuff you'll be showing."

  "It helps to know people," he said. "Tell me you'll come?"

  He wasn't hiding his interest in me, but there was no way I was going to trip blithely into some liar's arms. "Sure...I'll think about it," I hedged. "Hey, do you remember Gerard Fontaine, the golf instructor?"

  Dylan's brow creased. "Yes. Why?"

  I glanced over to the coffee bar, where Bo was serving a customer. He'd have my back if Dylan did anything stupid.

  "Because I found his planner," I said candidly. "It showed that he'd visited your gallery a couple of days before he died, and I wondered why." I gave Dylan a sugary sweet smile.

  He looked pensive for a brief moment, then swatted at the air. "Oh, I'd totally forgotten! He'd scheduled an appointment to get an estimate on his great grandma's vase. It certainly wasn't anything to write home about."

  "What kind of vase was it?" I asked quickly, hoping to catch him off-guard.

  He didn't hesitate to answer. "It was decorated with hand-painted antique roses, but it was hardly worth anything." He snapped his fingers. "Come to think of it, he did act a little weird. He kept glancing out my showroom windows, and he said he wanted to talk with me sometime about historical artifacts. Do you think he meant that Tiffany lamp or the rhino horn? Do you think he could've been involved with Alice?"

  I knew he had been, and it probably didn't make a difference since Dylan was already connecting the dots. "Yes, I think they were involved in the same art fencing gig."

  He gave a sage nod. "So it was fencing. I suspected that, given the pricey stuff Alice kept in her office."

  I tried to act casual. "So, what have you been up to lately? Did you work late last night?" I didn't know if he ever worked late, but I wanted to see if he had an alibi for last night's attempted break in at storage unit 6A. Maybe he'd heard where Gerard's things were stored and he'd decided to visit Meadow Field. After all, if he managed to break into the unit, he'd instantly recognize any valuable artwork Gerard might have hidden there.

  He stared at the deliberately scuffed wood tabletop as he took another sip of coffee. "No, I actually went to a restaurant. As you may have guessed, I eat out a lot. I'm afraid I'm not the best cook." As he raised his head, his eyes didn't quite meet mine.

  "Where'd you go?" I felt like some kind of undercover detective with my line of questioning, but I needed to know if anyone could corroborate where he was last night. And he was acting shifty, after all.

  This time, however, he held my gaze. "Over to that Italian place off 219. I had spaghetti and meatballs. They have the best garlic br
ead there. Why do you ask?"

  I sighed a bit too loudly and tried to mask it with a yawn. "Just curious. I'm sorry, I was up late last night and I'm not the best company today." I hoped he wouldn't push for further explanation. Obviously, I was barking up the wrong tree with Dylan. After pushing my chair back, I stood. "I'll let you finish your food and I'll go back to my dog, who seems to be pining away for me."

  That much was true—Coal's eyes hadn't wavered from following my every move since I'd walked into the cafe section, and he was starting to whine intermittently.

  Dylan stood and gave my arm an awkward pat. It was clear he sensed I was uncomfortable chatting with him. "Okay, well, please do drop by the show, if you can."

  I noticed he'd downgraded the art show from a possible date to a "please drop by" type of thing on my account, but I didn't really care that I was coming off as chilly. I couldn't trust a man who wouldn't look me in the eyes and who'd conveniently forgotten that a murder victim had visited his gallery a couple days before he died, no matter how innocuous that visit had been.

  27

  Bo stayed busy all day, and I knew when he was like that, it was better to steer clear. A large part of his troubled mood probably stemmed from our late-night storage building adventure, which meant he didn't want me bringing up the possibility that we head to Ivy Hill to search for the split-trunk tree Gerard had drawn on the map.

  I really should let the whole thing drop, but I couldn't. Gerard had hidden that pamphlet, probably hoping someone would follow up on it, and it was likely a clue to the tag he'd hidden on Coal.

  Besides, I'd told the doctor I'd drop the storage building keys off sometime, although I'd actually planned to pop them in the mail so I wouldn't have to return to Ivy Hill.

  I wished I could ask Summer to come along with me, but she was obviously miserable with her cold. It'd be handy if I had more friends I could count on around here. Our employees would inevitably tell Bo what I was up to, and Dylan was hardly a trustworthy pick.

  Still, there was a way I could avoid going out in the open on the Ivy Hill center grounds. I called Doc Schneider and asked him to pick the keys up on his way home, if he didn't mind. I told him I'd leave them just inside my back gate in a little basket.

  In the meantime, I started planning a stealth invasion of the woods near the golf course. I pulled up the satellite images on my Maps app to see where the wooded area started and ended. It looked like my hunch was right—I could park alongside the road and hike into the woods. So I'd never technically be in the main area of Ivy Hill—shoot, I might not even be on their property.

  I was fairly certain there wasn't any type of hunting season going on, but just in case, I'd wear a blaze orange hat.

  I couldn't imagine the new golf instructor would pay much attention to some stranger wandering the edge of the golf course, if he even caught sight of me. If Gerard had been really serious about hiding something, surely he would've picked a tree that wasn't very obvious from the golf course.

  I gave Bo another hug at the end of the work day. His eyes were lackluster and it was clear he was pooped. "Why don't you just get take-out and hit the sack?" I asked him. "I'm going to give myself a spa night at home—you know, nails, face mask, all that."

  I felt bad lying to Bo, but I knew I couldn't loop him in on this mission. No one knew about Gerard's map but us, and I was a natural in the woods, so I was confident I could get in and out with no interference.

  "Okay," Bo said, glancing at Coal, who had plopped down by my feet. "Your dog did great today, sis. I had so many customers gushing about how polite he was."

  "Good publicity for the shelter and for Barks & Beans," I said. "Coal's been a real blessing, in more ways than one."

  Bo scratched behind Coal's tall ears. "I'd have to agree. Hey, grab some fresh Guatemalan beans from the back—that stuff'll wake you up in the morning."

  "I will. Thanks!"

  I went to the back room and filled a paper bag with the glossy black beans. The smell was utterly intoxicating, so I decided to brew myself a cup when I got home. Instead of walking outside, I told Bo goodnight and went through the connecting door, straight into my house. Coal started frisking around, chewing at various toys, then digging into his food dish.

  "You did great today, boy," I said. I hated to leave him alone again tonight, but I'd be an idiot not to follow up on this final clue Gerard had left behind. Besides, it might mean nothing—it could be a tree he'd carved with his initials, for all I knew. If I did find something of interest, I'd turn it right over to the police.

  I tried to convince myself that whoever had attempted breaking into unit 6A hadn't been targeting me personally. It was probably just a fluke.

  Besides, Alice's killer had already been arrested, and it was possible he'd killed Gerard, too. Someone wealthy like Glen Rhodes would've believed he couldn't be caught—though it was a supremely stupid move to leave his drinking glass on Alice's desk the night she was murdered. Still, I figured killers did stupid things in the heat of the moment. Who could say if Alice's murder was premeditated or not—or what benefit it was to Glen—but those were the kinds of things the police could figure out.

  I was just following up on something I found in a dead man's paraphernalia, that's all.

  Wanting to get over to the woods before it was completely dark, I bolted down another cup of coffee, practically inhaled half a ham sandwich, and dressed in warm clothes topped off with my blaze orange hat.

  I loaded up a flashlight and a shovel, just in case I needed to dig around the spot Gerard had marked. After telling Coal goodbye and flipping on the TV for him, I locked up and deposited the doctor's storage building keys in a decorative grapevine basket just inside the gate.

  I glanced down the street to make sure Bo hadn't gone out for a run, but saw no one. I slipped into my car and edged out into the street.

  Using Maps, I found what looked to be a good entry point to get into the woods. I pulled off the road into a little turnaround area. After grabbing my supplies, I locked up the car and hiked into the trees.

  At this point in October, many leaves still clung to limbs and the underbrush was still green, so I had a little cover. I inhaled deeply, taking in the earthy smells of the woods. There was nothing more relaxing to me than walking in the woods—not even the beach, which was my brother's happy place. No, I'd rather have both feet on the ground than feel them getting sucked in with ocean water where fish pooped, sharks lurked, and currents could catch and kill you.

  Come to think of it, maybe I had a phobia of bodies of water because our parents had drowned. I should probably talk that out with Doc Schneider sometime, if it was ever safe to return to Ivy Hill. Or maybe he'd make a house call. Did psychologists ever do that? It probably wasn't recommended.

  My mind stopped its random wandering when I caught sight of a tree that most certainly was the exact one Gerard had sketched. I'd forgotten to bring his map, but I remembered the drawing well. The tree he'd sketched was leaning on one side, just like the one in front of me, and it had a defined split trunk.

  I hurried closer and turned on my phone flashlight as I circled the tree, looking carefully around the base of the trunk. The sun hadn't set yet, but I had to look closely in the rapidly fading daylight. Gerard hadn't carved anything into it, however, and there were no visible hollows on the tree.

  Moving the beam of my light upward, I examined the niche between the conjoined trunks, but that appeared to be empty. Using my pocket knife, I dug into the leafy compost in the niche area, but it was hardly thick enough to hide anything.

  That left one option—Gerard must've buried something here.

  I looked past the tree to see how visible I was to anyone on the golf course. I was several car's lengths away from where the green started, and there was no one in sight on the course. It was probably closing soon, if not closed already, since the sun had started to set.

  The ground wasn't too hard, so I shoved my phone into my ba
ck pocket, grabbed the shovel I'd dropped on the ground, and began to plunge it into the dirt. I moved in a loose circle around the tree. I didn't want to tear up the roots or make it obvious I'd been here, so I didn't dig shovelfuls out of the ground. I merely felt for a jolt that would inevitably happen if I struck something Gerard had buried.

  I'd worked my way in toward the trunk when my shovel actually hit something hard. I pulled it out and angled the blade a bit to the right before pushing it into the ground with my foot. It hit something again.

  Now I started digging in earnest, since the shadows were starting to swallow up the woods. After several minutes of coffee-fueled digging, I uncovered what had been buried.

  It was a square metal box about the height of Bo's espresso maker. I pried it out with the shovel. There was no lock on it, so I used my knife to push into the seam where the lid met the body of the box. After much finagling, I was able to pull the top off.

  Inside, there was a metal lockbox with some kind of electronic code. Gerard had wisely used the airtight outer box to protect the electronic safebox inside.

  Should I close it up and bury the box again, then try to explain its location to the cops? Or should I just heft it back to my car and drop it off directly to the police?

  It was getting dark so fast, I decided it would be best to get it back to my car, then drive it to the police station tomorrow morning. I could hardly see where to dig at this point.

  I took off my old, oversized coat and set the surprisingly lightweight box in the middle of it, then zipped the coat around it. I could only carry so much with me, so I propped my shovel against another tree, planning to retrieve it later. I needed to focus on getting the box to my car. Dragging it seemed a good option, so holding onto the hood of the coat with both hands, I tugged at the makeshift sled. Thankfully, the coat slid along relatively easily as I retraced my steps to my car.

  I was pretty worn out by the time I unlocked my trunk and hefted the box inside. No one was in sight on the darkened back road, and I was grateful. I'd have to come up with some crazy night hunting story if someone saw me...and it might not even be hunting season.