Murder Can Mess Up Your Masterpiece

by Rose Pressey

  Aunt Patsy smiled. “You’ll have to be more careful next time.”

  He grinned. “Yes, I suppose I will.”

  What did he mean by that? The next time he murdered someone, he’d have to be more careful? It was time I ended this date.

  “Have a good evening.” Aunt Patsy winked.

  She had no idea of the thoughts whirling in my mind.

  Caleb gestured toward the door. “Shall we go?”

  What if he asked me out again? I’d had a fabulous time and I didn’t want him to be the killer. But I had to take into consideration the facts that I knew so far. If I continued to talk with him, I might find out more details, but I could also be putting my life in danger.

  Night had settled around us now. Stars dazzled in the black sky with a slight summer breeze caressing my skin. The sweet smell of honeysuckle drifted across the air.

  “Can I walk you to your truck?” he asked.

  Thank goodness I had parked close and under a light. “It’s right over there.” I pointed.

  “After you,” he said with a smile.

  Nerves danced in my stomach as I walked across the lot and over to my truck.

  I stood beside the door with my keys in my hand. “Thank you for dinner.”

  “No, thank you for bringing me here. Now I have a new favorite place for burgers.”

  “Aunt Patsy will like that,” I said.

  I hoped I hadn’t just brought a killer into my aunt’s diner. My family would never let me live that down at the family Christmas each year.

  “I’ll see you at the fair?” Caleb asked.

  “Of course,” I said.

  What was on his mind? Murder? I shivered at the thought.

  “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said with wave.

  He turned and walked toward his truck. Once I slid behind the steering wheel of my truck, I released a deep breath. That was one of the craziest things I’d ever done. It had looked like a simple date, but it was much more than that. When I glanced over, I noticed Caleb was still sitting in the parking lot. I’d prefer it if he left first. What was he waiting for?

  Staying until he left the parking lot might seem weird, so I decided to pull out. I’d drive down the road and pull over so I could watch his next move. I’d try to hide so he wouldn’t see my vehicle. That was if he was headed back toward the craft fair.

  Anxiety crept back in. What if he went back into the café? He wouldn’t do anything to Aunt Patsy, right? He had no motive to harm her. I was being paranoid. Get ahold of yourself, Celeste. All this murder talk was creeping me out. Never had I thought I’d be thrown into a murder investigation.

  A few second later, I spotted Caleb’s truck headed in my direction. Parked on the side of the road between a white van and a black sedan, my truck was probably still noticeable. I slid down in the driver’s seat, hoping he wouldn’t spot me. After counting to ten, I eased back up in the seat. Whew. Thank goodness he hadn’t seen me. Now that I knew he’d left the café, I could go too. Crisis averted for now.

  My phone rang. I jumped, not expecting the sound. When I saw the number on the screen, I knew I was in trouble.

  “Aunt Patsy,” I said when I picked up.

  “Well, that was interesting,” she said.

  “What was so interesting about it?” I asked. “The fact that I had a date?”

  “It is a bit of a surprise. What’s the deal with that guy? I want to know all the details,” she said.

  “There’s not much to tell,” I said, knowing that wasn’t the truth.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said. “Where did you meet him?”

  “At the craft fair.” Did she notice the quiver of my voice? Technically, I had met Caleb at the fair. Aunt Patsy didn’t need to know I’d met him over a dead body.

  “What does he do?” she asked with suspicion in her voice.

  “Well, he’s a wood sculptor.”

  “That’s it?” she asked. “What does he really do?”

  “That’s it,” I said.

  “There’s not much money in that. How’s he going to pay for food? Rent?”

  “Well, he paid for food at your place. Speaking of which, why did you let him do that? I can’t drop a penny on the floor without you chasing me down and giving it back.”

  “Because he ate food at my café.”

  “Yes, but you never let me pay.”

  “This was a different circumstance. I wanted to see if he actually had any money.”

  “Oh, that explains a lot,” I said.

  “You learn as you get older,” she said.

  Aunt Patsy still treated me like I was sixteen. At twenty-six years old, I was well on my way to being “older.”

  “There’s just something about him,” she said with a click of her tongue. “I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s as if I’ve seen him somewhere before.”

  “Really?” I said, trying to sound casual. Now Aunt Patsy had me intrigued. “Maybe he’s been to the café before and you just don’t remember.”

  Though Caleb had said he’d never been to the café.

  “No, I don’t think that’s where I’ve seen him. But let me tell you, if I’ve really seen him, I’ll remember. My memory is like an elephant’s. And when I remember where I’ve seen him, I’ll make sure to tell you right away.”

  “I know you will,” I said. “Aunt Patsy, I have to go now.”

  “You sound rushed. What’s the problem?”

  “Van is at my parents’ and I don’t want to put him through that for too long.”

  “You’re right. You’d better hurry.”

  Celeste’s Creamy and Soft Peanut

  Butter Fudge

  Aunt Patsy can’t get enough of this holiday favorite. It makes a great gift! Remember to store in an airtight container.

  2 cups sugar

  ½ cup milk

  1⅓ cups peanut butter

  1 jar (7 ounces) marshmallow creme

  1 teaspoon vanilla extract

  Line an 8 x 8-inch square pan with parchment paper.

  Combine sugar and milk and bring to a boil over medium heat. Once it comes to a boil, stir for three minutes.

  Add peanut butter, marshmallow creme, and vanilla extract. Stir until blended.

  Pour the fudge into pan and allow to cool. Place in refrigerator. Once firm, cut the fudge and remove from the pan.

  CHAPTER 9

  Travel trailer tip 9: Keep a fire extinguisher handy in case you know (or are) an accident-prone person.

  I picked up Van from my parents’ house. Luckily, my father hadn’t caused any small disasters in the short time I’d been gone. It was only a matter of time, though, before he pulled another stunt. My mother didn’t need to ask about my date because Aunt Patsy already had given her all the details. They’d been talking while Caleb and I ate our burgers. Apparently, Patsy gave my mother a play-by-play account.

  “Patsy said he’s handsome.” My mother wiggled her eyebrows as we stood chatting on the front porch. My mom’s red geraniums were in full bloom in the pots next to the steps.

  My cheeks blushed.

  “Aha. So he is handsome.” My mother pointed at me.

  I grabbed Van’s bag. “I have to go. There’s a painting I want to finish tonight.”

  “If you have another date with him, I expect more details. Maybe you can bring him around for dinner,” my mother called out as I headed for my truck.

  There was no way I would bring Caleb here for dinner. Not yet anyway. Van sat beside me on the seat as I drove back to the craft fair.

  “Did you have a fun time at Nana and Papaw’s house?” I asked.

  Van covered his eyes with his paws as if he knew exactly what I’d asked.

  “I know they’re a bit kooky, but you gotta love them, right?”

  I pulled my truck up to my assigned spot at the fair. A bit of relief washed over me now that I’d returned to my trailer. I didn’t like leaving it full of paintings. I parked
and gathered Van in my arms. He licked my face.

  “Aw, thanks, sweetie,” I said.

  I paused at the trailer’s door. The ghost could be standing there when I opened it. I mustered my courage and twisted the knob. To my relief, I saw no sign of the ghost. Maybe she’d decided not to return.

  If only she’d asked, I could have warned her sooner that I was boring. There was nothing going on in this trailer other than painting. No glamorous parties or lively conversations. I released a sigh of relief and stepped into the trailer with Van. He raced over to his toys as if he was never so glad to see them.

  “We weren’t gone that long,” I said as I took his stuff from the bag. “I know Nana and Papaw’s house is a bit odd, but they love you bunches.”

  Just as I finished filling Van’s dish with water and placed it on the floor, he barked. I looked up, and my gaze locked on the ghost. Elizabeth had had an outfit change. Her embroidered, chartreuse-colored dress had a capacious, bell-shaped skirt. Ringlet curls hung at the sides of her face peeking out from under her large white bonnet. A crocheted shawl was draped around her shoulders.

  “Oh no,” I said.

  I raced over and picked up Van. She watched us as she stood by the door.

  “You’re back.” I held Van to my chest.

  “You didn’t think I’d stay away, did you?” she asked.

  “I was kind of hoping you would,” I said.

  “That’s not very nice.” She frowned.

  “To be honest . . . Van is afraid of you.” Van wiggled from my arms.

  “Van, no,” I yelled.

  He dashed over to the ghost and sat in front of her, wagging his tail as if they were best friends.

  “Hello, sweet one, you’re not afraid of me, are you?”

  He rolled on his back and offered his belly for a rub.

  “Van, you traitor,” I whispered. “Fine, the truth is, I’m afraid of you.”

  “There’s no need to be afraid. I’m not here to harm you.”

  “I don’t know why you’re here,” I said.

  “Well, that makes two of us. I told you, I don’t know why I’m here.”

  What could I say now? Invite her to sit for a spell? It wasn’t as if I could serve tea and scones.

  “And I don’t know what this is all about.”

  “You need to ask yourself why you painted my image. Where did you see me?” she asked.

  “Before painting your portrait, I’d never seen you,” I said.

  “If you find the reason you painted me, maybe you can find the reason why I’m here.”

  I had to admit that made sense, although I had no idea how to begin to understand why I’d painted her image.

  “I feel a sense of danger. Something tells me that you’re in danger.” Worry pinched between her dark eyebrows.

  That wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

  “What kind of danger?” I asked with wide eyes.

  Van had given up on getting a belly rub and was now observing my conversation with the ghost as if he was watching a tennis match.

  “I think there’s someone around here who wants to harm you,” she said.

  My stomach twisted. Could it be the killer? How would this ghost know that? Was she just trying to scare me? If so, it was working.

  “Who wants to harm me?” I asked.

  She moved from the door over to the tiny window and peered outside. “That I do not know.”

  “How do you know someone wants to hurt me?”

  “That I do not know,” she said again, still looking out the window.

  Oh no. She was on repeat.

  “Are your words stuck?” I asked.

  She turned to face me and chuckled. “No, dear. I just don’t know who wants to harm you. Before you ask why I don’t know these things, I’ll answer you. I don’t have an answer for that either.”

  Van jumped up on the chair beside me and watched the ghost.

  “What can I do to stay safe?” I asked.

  “You said there’s a killer?” she asked.

  “Yes, someone was murdered here at the craft fair. They don’t know who did it.”

  “That’s terrible,” she said.

  “There are a few suspicious people.”

  I watched her face for a reaction.

  “Who are these people?”

  I fidgeted. “Actually, I went to dinner with one of them tonight.”

  “Why would you do that?” she asked.

  “I thought it would be a good chance to ask him questions about the murder.”

  “And what did you find out?”

  “Absolutely nothing.” I paced across the tiny space to straighten a still life of summer fruit I’d hung on my wall.

  “Who else do you suspect?”

  “There are a couple of women who were extremely mad at the murdered man. They have booths here at the fair. Plus, the woman in the booth next to mine seemed unhappy with him. There’s also someone stealing money from vendors here too.”

  “Sounds like this isn’t a safe place,” she said.

  “I thought it was,” I said.

  A knock sounded on the door. Van barked. I picked him up to calm him down.

  “Are you expecting a visitor?” Elizabeth asked.

  “No,” I whispered.

  My heart rate increased. I didn’t want to answer the door without knowing who was there. Not with a murderer on the loose.

  “Would you like me to peek outside to see who’s there?” she asked.

  “You can do that?” I asked.

  “I came from a canvas. Peeking out that door will be a piece of cake after that.”

  “That would be great. Thank you.”

  Van’s body trembled as he growled. The ghost floated over to the door. Sometimes she floated and sometimes she walked. I wasn’t sure about the rules of ghostly life. I watched in shock as she popped her head through the door.

  After a few seconds, she pulled her head back through the door. Her hair wasn’t even mussed. “A man is out there. I don’t think you should answer the door. He could be trouble.”

  “What does he look like?” I asked.

  “One minute, please,” she said and popped her head through the door again.

  The suspense was getting to me. A few more seconds and she returned. “Well? Can you tell me now?”

  “A handsome man,” she whispered, as if he would hear her.

  Was it Caleb? The ghost stepped away from the door and back over to the window. I decided I would open the door. I eased the door open, as if that would prevent a killer from getting me.

  Caleb wasn’t the person at my door. It was the detective. The outside light highlighted the bourbon-colored streaks in his dark hair. Like the hidden images, the color was only visible in certain circumstances. Pierce wore a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up on his strong forearms, along with tan slacks. I assumed he had ditched the matching jacket and tie that went with his suit.

  “Good evening, Ms. Cabot,” said Pierce. “Did I come at a bad time?”

  Surprisingly, Van wasn’t barking at him. The detective smiled at him.

  “I was getting ready to paint,” I said, gesturing to the piece on the easel: the scene of the fair I’d been working on.

  Yes, it was a hint I hoped he wouldn’t stay long.

  “You should be nicer to him,” Elizabeth said. “He can keep you safe from the killer, no? Plus, he’s easy on the eyes. You should invite him in.”

  The ghost stood closer to me now. I had no idea a ghost could be so chatty. Maybe I could have painted her without a mouth? No, that wouldn’t be my style.

  “Would you care to step outside to speak with me?” he asked.

  Oh no. This wasn’t looking good for me.

  “Go on, talk with him.” The ghost gestured.

  With Van still in my arms, I stepped out of the trailer. My legs shook and I felt it a bit hard to breathe.

  “Will he let me pet him?” the detective asked,
reaching toward Van.

  “Only if you let him sniff your hand first. Don’t grab at him like you’re going to harm me or him.”

  “He really is your little protector, isn’t he?”

  “People think chihuahuas like to bite, but that’s not true. They’re just scared and protective. Once they get to know you, they’ll shower you with love. They’re spunky and entertaining too.”

  Detective Meyer let Van sniff his hand, and Van allowed the detective to rub his back.

  “He likes you,” I said with a smile.

  “Well, the feeling is mutual.”

  Okay, how bad could the detective be when clearly he liked dogs? Anyone who liked dogs was all right in my book. Plus, Van liked him too.

  “What brings you by tonight, Detective?” I asked. “Has there been another robbery? Oh my gosh, has someone else been murdered?”

  “No, don’t worry, nothing else has happened. And you can call me Pierce.”

  First-name basis? Did he do that with everyone he thought was a murderer? Maybe he wanted to befriend me to get me to confess. I had already told him everything I remembered.

  “As you know, I’m investigating the murder,” he said.

  Yes, I was well aware.

  “I answered all your questions,” I said.

  “It was brought to my attention that you were with Mr. Ward tonight.”

  The words smacked me in the face. How had he found that out?

  “We had dinner at my aunt’s café. Is there something wrong with that?” I asked.

  He studied my face. I sensed he wasn’t telling me everything.

  “When did you first see Caleb that night?”

  The detective thought Caleb was the murderer? Of course, I had my suspicions too. Now that the detective had questioned me about Caleb, I didn’t want it to be true.

  “He just kind of popped up, I suppose.”

  “Do you think he could have already been there and you just thought he popped up?”

  “No, not at all.” I paused. “Yes, I suppose he could have already been there.” Now the detective was putting even more doubts into my head. “Do you think Caleb killed Evan?”

  “I didn’t say that,” he said.