Murder Can Mess Up Your Masterpiece

by Rose Pressey

  “Evan, are you okay?” I called out.

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t move at all. Was he alive? Panic surged through me as I decided what to do. Should I check to see if he was breathing? I leaned down to Evan. As I reached out to check his pulse, my hand shook. I moved my fingers toward him but stopped when I spotted what looked like a knife protruding from his neck.

  The knife was short, with a wooden handle. I’d seen one like this before. Maybe I was wrong, but it looked as if something used for carving wood. Based on the position of the weapon, I’d say there was no way he could have done this to himself. Of course, I was no detective.

  I pressed my fingertips to his neck. Nothing. I had to call 911. Unfortunately, I’d left my phone at my trailer. It would do no good to perform CPR. How long had he been here? When was the last time I’d seen him alive? It was at Carly’s booth. That had been right around sunset. This must have happened shortly after.

  I jumped up and raced around the corner of his trailer. I hoped that I’d spot someone so I could tell them to dial 911. It would be much faster than going all the way back to my trailer. Someone had killed Evan. That sent a shiver down my spine. A murderer at the craft fair? The thought was terrifying.

  I’d just made it around the corner when I smacked right into someone. The tall, muscular man grabbed me and I screamed.

  “Whoa, are you all right?” He looked into my eyes.

  It took me a second to form a sentence.

  “Over there. The man is dead. He’s been stabbed.” I pointed toward the side of the trailer.

  The man frowned. “Where?”

  He took off toward the side of the trailer before I had a chance to answer. I followed behind him. I had forgotten to tell him to call for help. Perhaps he had a phone on him. When I reached the edge of the trailer, I stopped. The man was next to Evan.

  With the faint light from the trailer, I got a better view of this man. He had short, caramel-colored hair with streaks of lighter blond, as if he’d been out in the summer sun. Though his hair was a bit tousled at the moment. He wore a white T-shirt and navy-blue shorts. I noticed his shirt was on inside out, as if he’d dressed in a hurry.

  He turned to look at me. “Have you called the police?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t have my phone on me.”

  He stood and pulled a phone from his pocket. I tried not to look down at the body while I listened to the man’s side of the 911 call.

  When he finished, he said, “They’re on their way.”

  “That’s a relief.” I rubbed my arms to fight away the goose bumps. “Thank you for calling.”

  “Step over here with me,” he said, guiding me toward the front of the trailer. “Did you find him?”

  “Yes, I came by to speak with him. Ironically, I wanted to talk with him about security. Who could have done this to him?” I asked.

  The man looked around. “Did you see anyone by Evan’s trailer?”

  “No, thank goodness,” I said breathlessly.

  “My name’s Caleb Ward.”

  “Celeste Cabot. Do you have a booth here at the fair?”

  “Yes, it’s on the far side over there.” He pointed across the way. “I do wood sculpting.”

  “Painter.” I gestured with my thumb toward my chest.

  Where were the police? I hated standing out here trying to act calm when Evan was over there with a knife in his neck. I felt as if I might hyperventilate.

  A few seconds later, sirens sounded. The flashing lights appeared in the nearby parking area.

  “We should go over there and direct the police to the trailer,” Caleb said.

  “That’s a good idea,” I said.

  We headed toward the parking area. People were starting to come out of their trailers now. When I glanced to my right, I spotted Carly standing by one of the tall oak trees. She was watching us. After jumping out of their cruisers, the police rushed toward us.

  “The body is over there by that trailer.” Caleb pointed.

  “Stay here,” one of the officers instructed us.

  He didn’t have to tell me twice. Caleb and I stood there as several officers walked by toward the trailer. I supposed they would want me to tell them everything I’d seen. There really wasn’t much to tell. I’d gone there and found Evan. The part about the knife in his neck they’d see for themselves.

  “Are you all right?” Caleb asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I need to get back to my trailer to check on my dog.” I blew the hair out of my eyes.

  “What kind of dog?” he asked.

  Maybe he was just trying to distract me so I wouldn’t stress, but I was finding it hard to make small talk right now.

  “He’s a Chihuahua,” I said.

  “I have a German shepherd,” he said.

  “My brother has a German shepherd,” I said, still somewhat distracted.

  The lights from the police cars cast a blue glow over the area. I looked over toward the oak tree where I’d seen Carly. She was no longer there. I scanned the crowd for her but didn’t see her anywhere. A tall man wearing a suit walked by. He seemed out of place with that clothing. I assumed he must be the homicide detective. He spoke with a few of the officers. One of them pointed in our direction.

  “It looks as if they are talking about us now,” Caleb said.

  My anxiety increased as the man in the tan suit headed over to us. Maybe now I could speak with him and get back to my trailer. I just wanted to put distance between myself and the crime scene. Finding Evan had been disconcerting, to say the least.

  “Are you the person who called 911?” the raven-haired man in the suit asked.

  “She found the body.” Caleb pointed at me.

  Oh, great. Way to rat me out. I held my hand up in acknowledgment because it seemed my voice had become nothing more than a barely audible squeak. If I seemed too nervous, would they think I had something to do with Evan’s murder?

  The man pulled out his notepad and pen. “I’m Detective Pierce Meyer with the Gatlinburg Police Department. What’s your name?”

  “Celeste Cabot.” I managed.

  “You’re a vendor here at the craft fair?”

  Now was certainly not the time to notice this man’s dreamy eyes. The artist in me couldn’t help myself, though. The nearby trailers had all switched on lights, which allowed me a better look at the copper and green colors in his eyes. The playful, upward tilt of his full lips didn’t go unnoticed by me either.

  “Yes, that’s right,” I said.

  How had he known? I suppose all the customers had gone. Plus, I had paint all over my clothing. That was a good indication that some crafting had taken place in my past. He jotted down my name and turned his attention to Caleb. He gave the detective his name.

  “Did either of you touch the body?” he asked.

  I raised my hand as if this was a pop quiz. “Only to check for a pulse.”

  “Do you have any idea who may have wanted to harm the victim?” Detective Meyer asked.

  For a split second I thought about answering “everyone at the craft fair.” But surely there was no one here who disliked Evan enough to actually murder him.

  So instead, I said, “Not that I’m aware of.”

  The detective looked at Caleb. “How about you, sir? Do you know of anyone?”

  “No, I can’t imagine. I didn’t really know the guy,” Caleb said.

  “Why were you coming around the trailer at this time of night?” the detective looked at me and asked.

  Did he think I had done this? Now I was really starting to worry. If I was in jail, who would take care of Van?

  “I was coming to speak with Evan,” I said.

  “About what?” the detective asked.

  “About adding security to the craft fair.”

  “Well, now we’re talking . . .” The detective’s voice rose. “What made you think you needed security?”

  “Earlier this eve
ning, one of the vendors had her money stolen,” I said.

  “Really? What’s her name?”

  “Carly Koy. That’s spelled K-o-y. I saw it on the business cards she has on her booth table.”

  “Thanks for paying attention to the details.” He jotted down the information. “All right. And you say she has a booth here?”

  “Yes, it’s the fourth one down right there with that turquoise trailer.”

  “I’ll have a talk with her. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said. “I’m surprised you hadn’t heard about this yet.”

  He eyed me up and down with his sexy eyes. “I just came on shift. I’m sure I’ll be briefed about everything soon.”

  “Right,” I said, feeling slightly embarrassed.

  “If you think of anything else, please let me know right away.”

  “Absolutely, I will,” I said. “Is it all right if we leave? I have a dog waiting for me and he does too.”

  The detective looked from me to Caleb. “Sure, that’s fine, but I’ll be in touch.”

  Would the fair continue now that there had been a murder?

  “I think it’s best if I get out of here for good.” I rubbed my arms as if fighting off a chill. I wanted nothing more than to get Van, jump into my pink pickup truck, and drive home to the safety of my little cottage.

  Apparently, Detective Meyer had other plans. “I’m sorry, but we want everyone to remain here until we’re finished with questioning.”

  “How long will that be?” I asked.

  “We’ll try to make it as quick as possible,” Detective Meyer said.

  That hadn’t exactly answered my question.

  “Thanks,” I said half-heartedly.

  Detective Meyer studied my face. “Rest assured, we’ll find out who did this.”

  I never dreamed this night would end with me speaking with the Gatlinburg Police Department. Detective Pierce Meyer was a tall glass of water, but no matter how long he studied me with his penetrating hazel eyes, I wouldn’t confess to something I didn’t do.

  I turned and headed toward the trailer. Caleb fell into step beside me.

  “Don’t be scared tonight, okay? I’m sure someone was targeting Evan,” Caleb said. “I’m sure no one would ever hurt you.”

  I stopped and looked at Caleb. “How do you know that?”

  “Well, I don’t know for sure, but it’s just that, you know, he was Evan. His personality probably made him have a few enemies,” Caleb said.

  “You think so?” I asked.

  “Absolutely. You know Evan.”

  “Yeah, I had some dealings with him.”

  “And you’re just so sweet. Like I said, no killer would want to do anything to you.”

  I scoffed. “I don’t think a killer would care if someone was nice or not. They just have it in their heads to the eliminate people sometimes.”

  “But not all the time,” he said.

  I’d had enough of this conversation. “Thanks again and I’ll see you around,” I said with a wave of my hand.

  “See you around,” Caleb said.

  I hurried my steps so that I could get to my Shasta as quickly as possible. Not a single light shone from Ruth’s trailer. I suppose she had no idea that anything had even happened. Well, that was probably for the best. She’d hear all about it in the morning.

  The thought had barely left my mind when movement caught my attention and I spotted Ruth. She’d walked from around the side of her trailer. With her head down, she hadn’t even noticed me.

  “Ruth,” I called out.

  She jumped as she turned her attention my way. Her hair seemed unkempt, her clothing askew.

  “Oh, I’m sorry if I startled you. Is everything okay?” I asked.

  Maybe she had seen all the activity and gone to check it out.

  “Everything’s just fine,” she said as she continued toward her trailer door.

  I wanted to stop her to ask if she’d heard what had happened. She was in such a hurry, though, it didn’t seem as if she wanted to talk right then. Her behavior was a bit odd, but I figured she was just tired and not in the mood for more chitchat.

  With shaky hands, I opened the door to my trailer and stepped inside. Van looked up at me from his bed but didn’t make an attempt to run over to greet me. He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

  “Thanks for the warm welcome home,” I said around a laugh.

  Obviously, he hadn’t been too worried about me being gone a few minutes longer than I’d hoped.

  The returned painting was still propped up against the wall where I’d left it. No matter where I moved it, her eyes seemed to follow me. I suppose it was just my imagination. There was no way the painting was haunted. It was impossible.

  I hoped I would be able to sleep that night after what had happened. The benches that converted into a bed wasn’t the most comfortable I’d ever slept on, but nevertheless, it was better than camping outside with the bugs and a possible killer.

  CHAPTER 5

  Travel trailer tip 5: What happens in a travel trailer stays in a travel trailer.

  Tossing and turning in bed in the cramped space, I tried to sleep with my face pressed near the back of the bench. I fluffed my pillow and kicked off the quilt. Nothing worked. Van gave me the look before hopping off my bed and retreating to his own. The one that let me know I was disturbing his sleep.

  “Sorry, pookie, but Mama can’t sleep.”

  I closed my eyes and counted sheep. When I reached two hundred, I gave up. I was sure all the crazy events of the day were keeping me awake. I’d had a lot to take on in one day. Hauntings, strange artwork, a theft, and a murder. I hoped tomorrow would be less eventful. Evan had been hateful to a lot of people, but I felt terrible about what had happened to him. I couldn’t get it out of my head that the killer could still be around the grounds right now, looking for the next victim.

  As I lay there with my eyes closed, I couldn’t shake the sensation that someone was watching me. I opened my eyes and looked at Van. He was completely engrossed in something. The white glow in the corner on the other side of the trailer by my easel lit up my little space.

  When I looked to the left, I spotted her. I gasped and sat up in bed. Van jumped back onto my bed and scrambled close to me. I held him tight to my chest with one hand and pulled the covers closer to us with the other. As if the covers would act as a shield from this woman.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was the woman from my painting. Only she wasn’t in the painting. She was standing there like any other person. The longer I looked at her, the more solid she became. The white glow diminished, but the woman went nowhere. She watched me and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Had I lost my mind? Was this what the customer had told me about? How was this possible? I was completely freaked out. Should I speak to her?

  “Hello?” I managed to mumble.

  She offered no response. Her silence made me question my sanity. Though I suppose I would question my sanity more if she had spoken. Either way, panic raced through me. Van trembled as he watched the woman. She was scaring my dog. Therefore, she had to go.

  No sooner had the thought entered my mind when the white glow returned. Little by little she faded, until I saw right through her. After a few more seconds, the glow was gone and so was she. The painting was still there, though, in the cramped spot kitty-corner to the door. The woman focused on me with her haunting dark eyes.

  Van and I exchanged a look.

  “What just happened?” I whispered.

  No way could I fall asleep with the woman in the painting staring at me all night. I eased up from the bed as if she would pop out from the painting and grab me. I reached for the extra throw blanket I kept in a basket by the door. Trying not to get too close, I tossed the throw and hoped it landed over the painting.

  Unfortunately, it landed on the floor. Her stare remained focused on me. Now I had to go over, pick up the blanket, and get it over the paintin
g. I released a deep breath as I inched toward the painting. I didn’t take my eyes off the woman’s face. She still watched me. It was just a trick. Though I hadn’t created the painting that way. The shadowing and light in the paint hadn’t been right for that, but somehow now it was happening.

  Van barked as I reached down for the blanket. I suppose he was telling me to be careful. My hands shook as I clutched the blanket and draped it over the painting. I moved as if I was feeding an alligator and trying not to get my hand bitten off. Once away from the painting, I released a deep breath.

  “Well, that’s a little better, right?”

  Van jumped down from the bed and trotted to the other side of the trailer to get as far away as possible.

  “Yeah, it’s not much better, is it?”

  Nonetheless, I had to get at least some sleep. I had paintings to finish. Plus, with any luck, I’d have a busy day tomorrow selling my art. I inched back over to the bed and jumped under the covers. Van raced over to me. I lifted the covers and he climbed under, snuggling up beside me. At least we had each other for protection. Chihuahuas might be small, but they always want to protect the people they love.

  I suppose exhaustion finally took over because I drifted off to sleep. The sun shimmering through the openings of the blinds woke me. Strange things had taken place last night in my tiny trailer.

  The blanket was still draped over the painting. I told myself it had to be a dream, but unless I’d been sleepwalking, it hadn’t been. If I removed the blanket, would it still seem as if she was following me with her eyes? I wasn’t sure I was ready to find out.

  The sound of voices carried from what seemed to be right outside my trailer. I’d just gotten dressed in the khaki shorts I’d bought two seasons ago and the olive-green tank top my mother thought was in my color wheel. Shimmying into my clothing in a cramped space required a balancing act along with squeezing myself into the trailer’s small bathroom. For breakfast I’d eaten a blueberry bagel. After picking up Van, I eased the door open. Ruth was standing outside near her trailer, talking with a tall, dark-haired man. They must have felt me watching them because they looked over. Ruth waved for me to join them.