“I thought I did. But that was before I realized that you were only using me to get the things you wanted.”
“The things we both wanted,” Rick corrected her. I noted that he didn’t deny her accusation. “We make a great team, don’t we?”
The look in Amanda’s eyes was steely. I thought I heard her growl under her breath. “We were never a team. Not even when I was dumb enough to believe that we were. You were always the boss. You treated me like I was a flunky you could order around.”
“But it worked for us, didn’t it?” Rick wheedled. “We’re a great couple. I supply the brains and you’re great at doing what you’re told.”
Holy crap, I thought. That was his declaration of love and partnership? Couldn’t this creep hear how offensive he sounded?
Apparently not, because Rick was still looking at Amanda hopefully. As if he was sure he could convince her to give him another chance. When she spoke again, however, she quashed that notion emphatically.
“I might have thought we were in love,” she said. “But I was a fool to ever believe that. And now I know you for who you really are.”
“No, you don’t.” Rick held out his hand, willing her to take it. “I’ll change if I have to. We’ll work on it together. Let’s just talk—”
“I’m done with you.” Amanda glanced at his outstretched fingers, then looked pointedly away. “And I’m going with Melanie to talk to the police.”
Abruptly Rick went still. “What are you going to tell them?”
“That I made mistakes. And that I’m sorry for letting people down.” Amanda edged back until she was standing between Aunt Peg and me. When I nodded in support, she added, “I’m also going to tell them that for the last two weeks before Jasmine died, you and she were at each other’s throats.”
“Hell no!” Rick roared. “You can’t say that.”
“I can. And I will.”
“That will give them the wrong idea.”
“Or the right one,” Aunt Peg said.
“You don’t get it.” Rick looked pained. “You’re wrong. All of you. Yes, Jasmine and I were fighting. We were always fighting. But I’m not stupid. Jasmine Crane was my cash cow. Why would I have wanted to kill her when she was worth so much more to me alive than dead?”
Chapter 24
I hated that Rick sounded so convincing. It killed me to realize that I almost believed him. But I couldn’t, could I? Because if he was telling the truth, I was sunk. After all this, I would still have no idea who killed Jasmine Crane.
No, I decided. Rick had lied before, and now he was lying again. The man would probably say anything to save his own skin.
So I stood there and didn’t say a thing. Neither did Aunt Peg.
Amanda just shook her head. I didn’t know if she believed Rick or not. She was just ready to be done.
His statement having not achieved the reaction he was hoping for, Rick opted not to stick around to see what we might do next. He pushed past us and ran out the door. I heard the clatter of his feet as Rick dashed down the wooden steps. A few seconds later a door slammed, then an engine started.
I moved over to the front window and watched the panel van back rapidly out of the driveway. I wondered where Rick thought he was running to. If the authorities needed to find him, they would.
Amanda didn’t move to follow me. Instead she just stood in place with her arms hanging limply at her sides. The poor girl looked shell-shocked.
“I didn’t get my key back,” she said in a small voice.
“Change your locks,” Aunt Peg snapped. “You would have had to do it anyway. You of all people should realize that.”
Indeed.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” she said.
I turned back to face the room. “Wasn’t that what you came here to do?”
“Yes, but . . .” She chewed on her lip. “I thought I would feel better than this afterward. I don’t know. Empowered, or something.”
“How do you feel?” Aunt Peg’s voice was gentle.
“Empty.” Amanda shook her head sadly. “I really thought I loved Rick. I thought he loved me.”
“Rick doesn’t seem like the kind of man who’s capable of loving anyone but himself,” I told her.
“I guess you’re right.” Her voice caught on a sob. “How could I have been so stupid?”
Aunt Peg put her arms around Amanda. She pulled the girl close and held on tight. “Because you’re young and you haven’t learned everything yet. We all make mistakes.”
“Not like this,” Amanda sniffled.
“The important thing is that you learn from your mistakes,” Aunt Peg told her. “And you have. You’ve put Rick behind you, and now you’re going to talk to the police and make things as right as you can. That’s all anybody can ask.”
Except maybe for Marv Stanberg, I thought. He might have wanted his coin collection back. With Aunt Peg in touchy-feely mode, I decided it was better not to voice that thought aloud.
Instead I let my gaze wander around the small apartment. It looked pretty much the same as it had when I’d visited two weeks earlier. Maybe the place was a little messier, but who could really tell?
Once again, I found my eyes lingering on the oil painting above the couch. A pair of Foxhound puppies were romping on a lush, green lawn. The tumbling, tricolor pups looked so lifelike I felt as though I should be able to reach out and touch their warm, chubby bodies.
“That’s a lovely painting,” I said to Amanda. “It’s too bad Jasmine didn’t sign it for you.” Especially in light of the fact that she would never be able to do so now.
The girl straightened out of Aunt Peg’s embrace. The hug had done its job. Amanda appeared to be feeling a bit better. “That’s because Jasmine didn’t paint it. Sadie did.”
Sadie?
She nodded at my surprised expression. “Sadie’s an artist too. Didn’t you know? That’s how she and Jasmine met. It was years ago when they were in an art class together.”
Aunt Peg came over to take a closer look. Her first reaction to the painting was the same as mine had been. It made her smile.
“That’s rather amazing,” she said. “It looks like Jasmine’s work.”
Amanda tipped her head to one side. She studied the painting too. “I guess it does. I just like it because of the cute puppies. This apartment is pretty bleak. It cheers the place up.”
“You’ll have to move now, won’t you?” I asked.
“Why would I do that?”
“Sadie’s the executor of Jasmine’s estate. She said she was going to be putting the house on the market. The property will probably be easier to sell without a tenant in place.”
“Damn,” Amanda swore under her breath. “Sadie never mentioned that to me. I guess I’d better talk to her about it.”
“Before you do that, take a look at your lease,” said Aunt Peg. “Depending on what it says, I don’t think Sadie can toss you out just to make her life easier. You might want to consult a lawyer to find out your rights.”
Mention of the house being offered for sale reminded me of the day Sadie and I had walked around the small home together. At the time I’d wondered where Jasmine had kept her art supplies. Now my thoughts went one step further. It occurred to me that the house hadn’t contained a studio either. Surely an artist as prolific as Jasmine would have needed a dedicated space in which to work?
Unless . . . ?
No, I thought firmly. Then my eyes strayed back to the oil painting. Unsigned. Painted by Sadie. Jasmine’s best friend and another artist. And a woman who’d been seen on numerous occasions moving paintings into and out of Jasmine’s house.
Was it possible that Sadie had been the true talent behind Jasmine’s creative facade? Maybe. Considering what I’d learned about Jasmine so far, I wouldn’t put anything past her. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to do some digging in that direction.
I turned to Amanda. “You spent a lot of time with Jasmine, didn’t
you?”
“Um . . . I suppose.”
“Where did she do her painting?”
“I don’t know. I guess I never thought about it. I never saw Jasmine at work.”
“Never?” I asked incredulously.
Amanda shrugged. “She would only show me a finished product. She said that the process of creating art was intensely personal. There were lots of things in her life that Jasmine liked to keep private.”
“I can understand that,” Aunt Peg said. “I wouldn’t want someone staring over my shoulder all the time either.”
“I want to talk to someone who commissioned a pet portrait from Jasmine,” I said. “I’d like to hear more about how she created her paintings.”
Aunt Peg gave me an odd look. “It’s a little late to worry about that now, isn’t it?” She turned and headed for the door. Having disposed of Rick Fanelli, Aunt Peg was ready to move on. “It’s time to go,” she said. “Are you two coming?”
Amanda and I both nodded.
“If it’s all right, I’d feel more comfortable staying with you for another day or two until I have a chance to change my locks,” Amanda said to Aunt Peg.
“And time to talk to Detective Young,” I added. It would be easier to ensure the girl’s compliance if we were keeping an eye on her.
“And to call your sister,” Aunt Peg said. “That’s long overdue. But yes, come along. It’s fine.”
Amanda drove her own car back to Greenwich. Aunt Peg dropped me off at my house. Davey was still at school and Sam and Kev were out somewhere, but the Poodle posse rallied around me like I was a long lost friend. I had been so busy that I’d been neglecting them recently.
“I could use some exercise,” I told them. “Who wants to go for a run?”
By run, I actually meant jog. With maybe some walking thrown in. But the Poodles didn’t care how fit I was. They were up for anything that got us all out of the house and doing something together.
My area of North Stamford is strictly residential. There’s very little traffic. We don’t have sidewalks, but we do have a wide, grassy verge that serves as a buffer between lawns and pavement. Joggers and cyclists abound in my neighborhood. And my neighbors are used to seeing me go rolling by, accompanied by a rambunctious group of big black dogs.
I put on my running shoes and grabbed Bud’s leash from the hook beside the back door. The Poodles could be trusted to stay with me and to pay attention when the occasional car went past. But Bud was a law unto himself.
Once outside the confines of the house or the fenced yard, the spotted dog was like a kid in a candy store. He wanted to see and do everything at once. And the more exciting things Bud found to explore, the more selective his hearing became.
I snapped the leash onto his collar before opening the door. As the Poodles raced past him out to the driveway, Bud gave me a dirty look.
“Really?” I said. “Whose fault is this?”
He wagged his tail innocently. Not me! Not me!
I pulled the door shut behind us. “Who chased a rabbit across the road, up the Newcombs’ driveway, and under their porch just last week?”
Bud sniffed the ground at the base of a nearby bush. He pretended not to hear the question. That was just as well, because we all knew the answer.
The rabbit had barely escaped with its life. Jan Newcomb had been startled to discover me kneeling in her flower bed, yelling obscenities under her porch. And when Bud had finally emerged from the crawl space, he’d been covered in mud from head to tail. He’d also had the nerve to look pleased with himself.
It wasn’t an episode I wanted to repeat anytime soon.
“We feed you plenty,” I told the little dog sternly as we followed the Poodles across the lawn. “You don’t have to catch your own food.”
Bud was already panting in anticipation. His long, pink, tongue was flopping out of the side of his mouth. It’s the chase! I love the chase!
“And that’s why you’re on a leash,” I said.
Tar circled back to Bud. He wanted his friend to come and play with him. The Poodle stared pointedly at the slim strip of leather connecting Bud to me. The pair began to wag their tails in unison.
“You’re not supposed to gang up on me,” I grumbled. But a plea that cute was hard to resist.
“If I let him loose, will you watch him?” I asked Tar. Thank goodness Faith was too far ahead to hear that question. She’d have died laughing. Tar was hardly a paragon of good behavior himself. Nevertheless he woofed at me softly.
That male Poodle would promise you the world. Delivering was another matter. Especially since Tar was never able to figure out what he’d done wrong. He was so kind-hearted, it was impossible to stay mad at him.
“This is all on you,” I told Tar as I unsnapped the lead. Freedom beckoned. The two dogs immediately went dashing away together. They didn’t spare me so much as a backward glance. Boys.
An hour later, after a mostly mishap-free run, we were all back in the house. I hoped my neighbor at the end of the street wouldn’t miss the rubber ball Bud had picked up at the edge of his property and promptly dropped down a storm drain. I thought I should probably leave a note in his mailbox on the way to school the next morning, offering to replace it.
The dogs went straight to their water bowl. I grabbed a bottle of green tea out of the refrigerator. Sam and Kevin still hadn’t returned home and Davey’s bus wasn’t due for half an hour. So I got out my phone and called Gwen Kimble.
“Well, hello Melanie.” She sounded pleased to hear from me. “I was just thinking about you.”
“You were?”
“I was wondering if you ever found that girl you were looking for. Abby Burke’s sister?”
“Happily, I did,” I said. “What made you think of that?”
“There was a mention in the morning newspaper about the investigation into Jasmine’s death, and that reminded me of your search.”
“What did the article say?”
“Just that new information had come to light and that the police were going to be checking into additional leads.”
I hoped that was Detective Young’s doing. The police could be tracking Rick down right now. I was sure that with their resources and expertise, they’d have more luck getting the truth out of him than I had.
What a relief to know that was now in the hands of the professionals.
I turned back to my conversation with Gwen. “I was curious about something with regard to Jasmine. I heard that you once commissioned a pet portrait from her?”
“Yes.” Her reply was clipped. “I did.”
“I gather you weren’t pleased with the result?”
“No, I was not. Nobody would have been. Jasmine took three months to complete the painting. And when she delivered it to me, it was atrocious.”
“What was wrong with it?”
“It would be easier to tell you what was right. Which was basically that the portrait was of a Whippet. But Lotus was a very special bitch. I made sure that Jasmine met Lotus and got to know her, so she could capture her personality on the canvas. But what I ended up with was a flat rendering of a gray and white Whippet that could have been anyone’s dog. Worse still, the Whippet in the portrait was lacking in under jaw. And her eye was too light, which completely destroyed her expression.”
“Did you talk to Jasmine about possibly making some changes?”
“There would have been no point. Especially since she was insisting that the painting was perfect as is. To tell you the truth, I think she did it on purpose. Jasmine and I were always butting heads—and this was how she got her revenge. Giving me a generic portrait that looked as though it had been painted by someone who’d never even seen the bitch. I’m sure Jasmine thought she would have the last laugh. She was sneaky like that, always trying to get the better of people.”
Little did Gwen know, I thought.
“But she didn’t have the last laugh,” I said, “because you refused to pay her.”
“Which was precisely what she deserved. Nobody would have accepted that painting.”
“It interests me that Jasmine came to see Lotus in person.”
“She didn’t want to,” said Gwen. “She told me she always worked from photographs. But I insisted. For all the good it did me.”
“Did Jasmine make any sketches of Lotus while she was there?”
“No, not one. She did snap a few pictures of Lotus running around the backyard. And I supplied her with several others. Lotus was getting on in years. I wanted Jasmine to portray the bitch as she’d been in her prime. So I gave her win pictures from the show ring.”
“No close-ups though?”
Gwen growled in exasperation. “Why would Jasmine need close-ups when she’d met Lotus in person? Everything she needed to know was right there in front of her.”
Not if she hadn’t been planning to paint the Whippet herself, I thought. Maybe Jasmine’s on-site snaps hadn’t been good enough. And those small details like eye color and under jaw couldn’t be seen in Gwen’s pictures that had been taken from a distance. Jasmine had all the information she needed to create a portrait of Lotus for her discriminating owner—but Sadie didn’t.
“One last question,” I said. “Did you ever meet a friend of Jasmine’s named Sadie Foster?”
“No.” Gwen didn’t even have to stop and think. “Aside from the one time she came here, I only ever saw Jasmine at shows. She and I never socialized. Jasmine was bad enough on her own. I wouldn’t have had any desire to meet her friends.”
I thanked Gwen for her time and hung up.
Obviously the next person I needed to talk to was Sadie herself. The last two weeks had shown me that Jasmine wasn’t the only one who’d been keeping secrets. Nearly everyone connected to her had also had something to hide. I couldn’t help but wonder if Sadie’s secret might turn out to be the most explosive one yet.
Chapter 25
The next morning, I took a quick break between tutoring sessions to get in touch with Sadie. I had no intention of asking anything of a sensitive nature over the phone where it would be too easy for her to dodge my questions. Instead I told her that I had news for her about the possessions Jasmine had taken to the Sedgefield dog show. Sadie agreed to meet with me that afternoon.
Ruff Justice Page 22
