Hemlock for the Holidays

by Paula Darnell

  Mona Lisa got into the act and began batting my other arm with her paw.

  “OK, OK. Dinner is coming right up.” My assurances satisfied my pets, who eagerly followed me into the kitchen. I dished up their food, set their bowls at opposite ends of the kitchen as usual, and reheated some leftovers for my own dinner.

  My cell phone rang just as the microwave dinged. I looked at the caller ID on the display and gulped in dismay.

  “Hello?” I said as brightly as I could manage, considering the fact that I knew I wasn't going to like what I heard.

  Chapter 30

  “Ms. Trent, my husband had a visitor this afternoon,” the mayor said. “Care to guess who stopped by?”

  Although I felt sure Melinda referred to the chief, I didn't answer. I didn't have much of a chance to speak, anyway. She barely paused before continuing.

  “No? It was our very own chief of police, asking outrageous questions. It seems that somebody's been eavesdropping on private conversations. Now, I wonder who that could be.”

  I couldn't believe that the chief had outed me as his source. Then, again, maybe he hadn't. Considering that I'd overheard Bob Gibbs's conversation with Josh's lawyer in the morning and that the chief had talked to him only a few hours later in the afternoon, it was equally possible that Melinda and her husband had put two and two together to conclude that I'd informed the chief of the conversation.

  “Still nothing to say, Ms. Trent? Well, I do! How dare you? You were a guest in my home. You had no right to go sneaking around.”

  “I wasn't sneaking,” I protested.

  “Whatever. Now you hear me, and you hear me good. Don't you ever come near me or my family again. I promise you you'll regret it if you do. And one more thing: I will never display your painting in my home. I don't want it. You can tear up my check.”

  “Unfortunately, I can't do that. I've already deposited it.”

  “In that case, I'll have my bank put a stop payment on it,” she snapped. “You'll never get a penny.”

  The line went dead immediately. Melinda had hung up.

  I stared at the cell phone in my hand for a few seconds before setting it down on the kitchen counter. Frankly, Melinda's call hadn't come as a total shock. It had occurred to me that, if she connected me to the chief's investigation of her husband, she wouldn't be too happy with me, to say the least. Even so, I'd harbored a hope that she wouldn't realize that the tip had come from me.

  Due to the loss of my only significant sale of the month, I was right back to square one as far as my finances were concerned, and square one wasn't a very good place to be. Although my situation didn't qualify as end-of-the-world serious, I knew that, if sales didn't pick up soon, I'd probably have to ask my parents for a loan. How embarrassing! Even though I knew they'd be happy to help, I'd never borrowed money from them, and I really didn't want to start now, at age fifty, when I should be able to take care of myself.

  Belle commiserated with me when I called to tell her that the mayor had canceled my sale.

  “Do you think Melinda knows what her husband's up to, or is she defending him solely based on loyalty?” I asked Belle.

  “Good question. I suppose a person could hide something like that from a spouse, but it wouldn't be easy. My best bet is that she knows. After all, if he's having money problems, it'll affect their entire family eventually. She'll most likely do her best to make sure nothing comes of the investigation.”

  “I'm beginning to doubt that the chief will get very far. There may not be any evidence to uncover, especially if both men deny Bob offered the lawyer a bribe and no payment's been made yet. I know they can't do anything on my word alone. The chief reminded me that the conversation I overheard would be classified as hearsay in court, but I have a feeling it will never go that far.”

  “Probably not, but, Amanda, be careful. You've made an enemy of the mayor.”

  “I know, and I hope she doesn't take it out on the Roadrunner. The Gibbses have always been big supporters of the arts here in Lonesome Valley.”

  “You told me Melinda bought one of Ralph's paintings. She hasn't returned that, too, has she?”

  “I didn't think about that, but not as far as I know. At least she didn't mention it.”

  “Well, her beef is with you. She has nothing to gain by snubbing other artists, so I wouldn't worry about that too much. Anyway, she's already hurt you by canceling the sale of your painting. That's quite a blow in itself.”

  “I'll say.”

  I felt drained after what had been a very trying day, but my only play was to accept what had happened and move on. Moping about a lost sale certainly wouldn't solve my money problems.

  When Brian called me later, I tried my best to sound cheerful, but I wasn't as successful as I'd hoped. It didn't take him long to discern that something was wrong.

  “What is it, Amanda? Aren't you feeling well? You don't sound like your usual self.”

  That's all it took for me to blurt out the entire story while he listened patiently.

  “You did the right thing in reporting what you heard to the police,” he said. “I'm sorry it cost you.”

  “Me, too. I was counting on that sale to carry me through the next couple of months.”

  “I know it's tough when you don't have a regular paycheck coming in. I've certainly always relied on mine. I don't think I could do what you do, but I admire you for it. You're doing what you love and making a living from your artwork.”

  “Well, trying to make a living from it, anyway.”

  “Things will pick up,” he said optimistically.

  “I hope so.”

  “In the meantime, I'd be happy to make you a loan.”

  “Oh, no, Brian. I couldn't possibly accept a loan, but I appreciate the offer.”

  “It still stands, if you change your mind.”

  If I asked anyone for a loan, it would be my parents, although I was holding onto a ray of hope that it wouldn't become necessary. Accepting a loan from Brian wouldn't get our budding relationship off to a very good start, in my opinion. And what if it didn't pan out between us? Owing him money would only complicate things further. No, borrowing money from Brian definitely was a bad idea. No doubt about it.

  Chapter 31

  By the following day, I hadn't changed my mind about accepting a loan from Brian. I didn't want to owe any of my friends or relatives money. Of course, the same caveat didn't apply to the bank that issued my credit card. I calculated that, between my meager checking account and the amount I could charge on my credit card, I would make it through the holidays, when I'd be spending far more on groceries than usual since I'd have company.

  Utility and insurance bills would come due after the first of January, and I decided it would be better to borrow from my parents than to fall behind on my bills.

  With that decision made, I went on to the next item of business, which was preparing my contract with Jerry Madison. I did a little research online and came up with a simple contract that clearly spelled out the terms of our agreement. Although I didn't usually take Laddie with me when I ran errands, I decided to bring him along and stop to walk him at one of the large parks on the other side of town before we came home.

  Seeing me grab my purse, Laddie gave me the same sad look that he always displayed whenever I left him home alone with Mona Lisa, but, as soon as I picked up his leash, his attitude changed immediately. He could barely contain his excitement when I snapped on his leash and led him outside to our waiting chariot.

  Laddie recognized the vet's office right away when I pulled into the parking lot. I didn't have to coax him out of the back seat; he jumped down, happy to come with me. He'd never had a bad experience at the vet's, so he had no reason to hesitate. Of course, I'd never leave him alone in the car.

  When I approached the receptionist, she smiled at Laddie and asked when his appointment was scheduled. I explained that I needed to drop off some paperwork for Dr. Madison to sign.

 
; “I'll make sure he gets it, but he's really busy this morning. Would you like me to call you when it's ready?”

  “That would be fine.” I'd hoped to take care of it right away, but I could see that the office was busy. Several pet parents with their dogs or cats were sitting in the clinic's waiting room. “Here's my cell phone number.” I circled it on my business card and handed it to her.

  We couldn't get back to the exit without Laddie stopping along the way to greet a gray standard poodle and make a new friend. Laddie's wagging tail thumped the woman with the poodle, but she remained unperturbed, and we exchanged some idle chat about our dogs before I coaxed Laddie away from the poodle.

  I drove to the park, where we began our walk. I checked the time on my phone every few minutes. I wanted to call the frame shop at ten, when it opened, and let someone, hopefully Brooks himself, know that I'd be stopping by to pick up my painting. It was highly unlikely that Melinda would try to claim it. She declared she'd never have it hanging in her house, but she was so angry with me, it wouldn't be beyond the realm of possibility that she might destroy it. I was probably letting my imagination run away with me, but I decided that it was prudent to take precautions, nevertheless.

  On the stroke of ten, I called the frame shop while Laddie and I continued strolling through the park. I asked for Brooks, but, since he wasn't in, I told the clerk that my buyer had changed her mind about framing and that I'd be coming in to pick up my canvas later.

  “Fine,” she said. I got the feeling that she hadn't been paying close attention to what I said, and I realized I hadn't planned my trip very well. I should have left Laddie at home and been waiting outside the frame shop when it opened. Then, I could have dropped off the contract at the clinic later.

  I turned to retrace our steps, and I hurried Laddie along. I couldn't take him into the Resort's mall, so I'd have to drop him off at home before I went to pick up my painting.

  Laddie wouldn't be thrilled about staying home with Mona Lisa, but, as it turned out, he didn't have to. When Belle saw us returning, she invited him to come over to her house to play with Mr. Big.

  “I won't be long, Belle,” I promised.

  “No worries. I'm planning on staying home the rest of the day. Take your time.”

  “Thanks.” I was off with a wave to my friend. I'd certainly hit the jackpot when I'd moved next door to her and Dennis.

  I didn't lose any time driving to the Resort. I pulled up under the canopy at the valet parking area near the entrance, handed my key to a valet, and took my parking stub. I'd have to tip the valet, but parking here would save me a long trek through the parking lot, balancing my bulky canvas, so I figured it would be well worth it.

  The shops along the mall all boasted beautiful holiday displays in their windows, but I hurried past, intent on my mission.

  A young woman I'd never seen before greeted me at the counter of the frame shop.

  “Hi. I called earlier about picking up my painting. I'm not sure who I spoke to.”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember. That was me. Do you have your receipt?”

  “Sure.” I pulled my receipt out of my pocket and handed it to her.

  “OK, Melinda,” she said, handing the receipt back to me. “Your painting's in the back. I'll bring it out to you.”

  “Oh, no. I'm not Melinda. I'm Amanda Trent. See?” I pointed to the “received from” line on the receipt.

  She frowned. “But it says Melinda Gibbs here.” She indicated the instructions that stated Melinda Gibbs would be arranging for the framing. “I don't know about this.”

  “Look, I'm the artist. I dropped the painting off, and now I want to pick it up. Simple as that.”

  “But Mrs. Gibbs . . . . Isn't she the mayor?”

  I was beginning to feel annoyed, but, rather than arguing with the confused clerk, I suggested she call Brooks.

  “Oh, no. I couldn't do that. I'm not supposed to call him unless there's an emergency.”

  I had no such compunctions. I whipped my phone out and called Brooks myself. He'd given me his cell phone number a few months earlier, when he'd asked me for my help following an event we'd both participated in. Luckily, he answered. I'd been afraid my call might go to his voicemail, and, since I didn't seem to be getting anywhere with the clerk, I was depending on him to back me up. As soon as he answered, I launched into an explanation of my plight. He interrupted me after several seconds, telling me he'd “be right there.”

  “Brooks will be here in a little while,” I told the clerk. We stood there and stared at each other for a minute before she returned to processing the paperwork she'd had on the counter when I arrived. I wandered around the shop, looking at examples of various frames.

  Finally, Brooks arrived.

  “Now, what's all this, Amanda?” he asked.

  I pulled out my receipt and showed it to him. “I dropped one of my paintings off yesterday, but now I need to pick it up. Melinda Gibbs was going to buy it, but she changed her mind. It was here because she said she wanted to pick out a frame for it.”

  “No problem. Carol, would you please bring Ms. Trent's painting out?” He took the receipt, added a note that I'd picked up my painting, and initialed it with a flourish.

  “Thanks, Brooks.”

  “Happy to help.”

  The clerk came out of the back room with my painting and set it on the counter.

  “It's beautiful work, Amanda,” Brooks said. “That's quite a large canvas to carry through the mall. Let me grab a dolly, and I'll wheel it out for you.”

  “That would be great. I parked in valet.”

  Brooks disappeared into the back room. Carol looked tense and avoided eye contact with me while I waited. I didn't really blame her for her reluctance to hand over my painting since she was just trying to do her job, so I thanked her for being careful. She nodded and seemed to relax then.

  Wheeling a dolly, Brooks came out of the back room and carefully placed my painting on it.

  “It's a shame the mayor changed her mind,” he said, as we walked through the mall, “but I'm sure someone else will buy it.”

  Such a transaction couldn't come soon enough, as far as I was concerned. Anyway, I was glad Brooks hadn't asked for details, and I decided to change the subject. “Our Roadrunner Christmas party certainly turned out differently than I'd expected. I still can't believe that girl thought it was a joke to bring a dessert that everybody in town associates with poison now.”

  “Yes, I thought it was odd, too. Alana, my office assistant, knows her family, and she told me that girl's always felt jealous of her sister, who, ironically, was one of the band members who was poisoned.”

  “Sounds as though it may have been a bid for attention. I hope she gets some help. You know, I thought she looked familiar when I saw her at the party. Now, I think I know why. I bet she looks a lot like her sister. I remember one of the band members bought something at our booth that day. I'll bet the buyer was the same girl who was poisoned. She and the others who survived the hemlock were the lucky ones, unlike poor Eric Thompson. Did you know him, by any chance?”

  “No, I can't say that I did.”

  “The reason I asked is that you seemed to know his nephew Josh.”

  My comment was met by a bit of confusion from Brooks.

  “At the Christmas party, he was with his girlfriend and Chip.”

  “Oh, right, but I had no idea who he was. I recognized him because I've seen him in my gallery. Well, here we are.”

  The wide doors to the Resort's entrance slid open, and we stopped at the valet station, where I handed a young man wearing the Resort's uniform my ticket stub. He grabbed my keys from a cabinet behind him and took off running. I noticed that most of the valets were young, probably because it took both speed and stamina to be able to do the job.

  Brooks waited with me until the valet returned with my SUV. After he'd helped the valet secure my painting in the back, I thanked Brooks, handed the valet a tip, and drove off.r />
  I didn't get too far before the receptionist from Dr. Madison's office called to let me know that he'd signed the paperwork, so I drove to the vet's office to pick it up, instead of going straight home.

  The reception area wasn't nearly as packed as it had been earlier. There were only a couple of people waiting there with their dogs.

  The receptionist saw me coming and handed me the contract as soon as I reached her desk. I gave it a cursory glance, saw his signature, folded it, and tucked it into my bag. When I looked up, I saw that Dr. Madison was standing behind the receptionist.

  “Hi, Amanda. Do you have a minute?”

  Chapter 32

  “Yes, certainly.”

  “Let's go back to my office.”

  I followed him to the end of the short hallway and entered his tiny office. He didn't invite me to sit down, but picked up a stack of photos from his desk and handed them to me.

  “Pictures of the pups,” he said. “Katie asked me to give them to you. She noticed on your website that you work from photos.”

  “Great! These are very helpful, but I can do you one better since you live here in town. I like to see the pets I'll be painting in person, if possible. It gives me a good feel for their personalities, and I can also take a few pictures of my own. Would it be all right if I pay you a visit and see your dogs in action at home?”

  “Oh, sure. Sounds like you really go the extra mile. Katie's going to be very impressed when I tell her. Would Sunday afternoon work for you?”

  “That sounds fine. Say two o'clock?”

  “Done.” He scribbled his home address on the back of one of his business cards and handed it to me.

  After I returned home, Belle and I enjoyed a quick lunch before I headed to the Roadrunner.

  As I drove downtown, I wondered whether any of the members of the Roadrunner had ever exhibited their art in a Scottsdale gallery. I felt sure that, if anyone had representation there now, I would have heard about it, but I made a mental note to ask Pamela.