A short time later, Rory was holding the door open for Maybelline when a red Ferrari rounded the corner and whipped into a parking space in front of the store, almost clipping the car in back of it. Viveca emerged from the driver’s side of the sports car and waved her sunglasses at the group now crowded around the doorway.
“She always did know how to make an entrance,” the older woman said.
“She could’ve caused an accident,” someone said from behind Rory.
“She almost ran into my car the other day. At the time, I didn’t know she was the one driving. She hogged both lanes. I had to swerve to avoid her. I came really close to hitting a parked car.” Rory shuddered at the memory of the red menace bearing down on her.
Everyone moved aside as Viveca, who had changed into a colorful dress, entered the store, creating an impromptu tunnel similar to ones Rory often saw at football games for the home team to run through onto the field. She half expected cheers to erupt as the painting teacher walked between the two lines and headed toward the front counter where Arika waited to greet her. Everyone was so focused on the guest of honor, few people seemed to notice Hulbert as he followed his wife inside.
Five minutes later, Arika stood next to the front counter and rang a hand bell. Veronica made her way to the front, holding her voice recorder at arm’s length so she could capture every word. As soon as the crowd quieted down, the store owner started her short speech. “Thanks, everyone, for coming. I’m happy to be hosting this event honoring Viveca Forster and celebrating her return to teaching.”
“Hear, hear,” someone at the back of the crowd shouted. A smattering of applause approved the sentiment.
Arika waited for the hubbub to die down before continuing. “Just a few words about the event. All of Viveca’s pattern packets and books are available for purchase. These include the ones she’s reissued as well as several new designs.” She pointed toward the nearby table where the items were laid out in stacks. “Viveca will be happy to sign them, of course, as well as anything else you brought with you. Please purchase the books and packets first. Now, I’m very excited about this next announcement.”
She held up two pattern packets, pausing for dramatic effect. “This is the first time these two new designs will be available for sale. You couldn’t get these at the convention. Be sure to check them out. We’ll also be raffling off a basket filled with an assortment of Viveca’s designs, as well as a certificate that gives the bearer a spot in a class she’ll be teaching in the future.” Excited murmurs ran through the crowd. “Yes, that’s right, a weekend class. Each of you should have a ticket. If you didn’t get one, see my daughter. Rory, could you raise your hand, please?”
Rory waved her hand in the air.
“We’ll be drawing the raffle tickets a little later. One last thing.” The store owner’s gaze swept the room. “I see some of you have glasses of champagne or cider already. If you don’t have one, now’s the time to get one. We’ll be making a toast shortly.”
The crowd surged toward the refreshment table. People handed filled glasses to their neighbors. Someone thrust a glass of champagne into Rory’s hands. Not wanting to drink alcohol at this early hour, she placed the glass on a nearby table and made her way through the crowd to the food area where she snagged a glass of cider for herself and one for Nixie, who was standing nearby. The convention organizer smiled her thanks, then headed toward the front where Viveca stood with her own glass of champagne.
The bell over the front door tinkled, and Detective Green slipped inside the store. Other than Viveca’s husband the only man present, he made his way through the crowd to stand beside his girlfriend, who took his hand and smiled up at him. Rory felt a twinge of jealousy, which she quickly pushed to the back of her mind.
As soon as everyone had a glass and had settled down, Arika raised her own. “Here’s to Viveca. To your career in tole painting. To everything you’ve accomplished in the past. To everything you will accomplish in the future. May you have continued success in the years to come.”
After everyone raised their glasses and took a sip, the store owner turned to the guest of honor. “Viveca, would you like to say a few words?”
The woman stepped forward. “Thank you, Arika, for hosting this event. I’m so happy to be here. I only wish my niece could have seen the wonderful turnout.” She cleared her throat. “I hate to put a damper on such a lovely event, but I’d like to take time to honor Jasmine. A moment of silence, please.” She bowed her head. Everyone followed her lead and waited for her to continue. “Thank you.” Her gaze swept the room as she raised her glass. “To old friends and new ones. And to my husband, Hulbert Forster, for convincing me to return to painting.”
Beaming from ear to ear, Hulbert raised his glass, and along with everyone else, took a sip in celebration.
“Now,” Arika continued, “mingle, have fun. Viveca will be at the table over there.” She pointed to the table covered with the painter’s books and pattern packets. “And don’t forget about the raffle.”
Rory was kept busy giving out tickets to the handful of people who hadn’t received one. A line formed at the register while another began at the table where Viveca had settled down. Before long, the autograph line snaked around the edge of the store. Rory waved at Liz who stood near its front, a pattern book clutched to her chest.
Rory mingled with the other attendees, talking with those she hadn’t had a chance to see at the convention. Every so often, she checked with Viveca to see if the woman needed anything. At one point, she motioned for Rory to bend down. “Could we have a chat after this? It’s about Jasmine,” she whispered. Rory nodded in agreement, wondering what the woman wanted to talk about.
“Does she seem okay to you?” she asked Liz after her friend had gotten her pattern book signed.
“A little tired, I think,” Liz said. “A lot of people were asking her about Jasmine. That’s probably taken its toll on her.”
Rory nodded. She wouldn’t be surprised to see the woman collapse from exhaustion after the event was over.
As she moved around the store, she occasionally caught sight of a twentysomething woman with white blonde hair and glasses handing a goldenrod piece of paper to attendees. Some of the woman’s targets waved her away while others took the paper and listened politely to what she had to say.
Rory grabbed a discarded flyer out of the trash can. On it was a harangue against the Akaw, detailing how the newly built hotel had ruined the lives of locals and should be boycotted until the hotel’s owner fixed all of the problems they were responsible for creating.
When she showed her mother the flyer, Arika frowned. “I don’t want anyone spouting propaganda here today. This is supposed to be a fun event, not a political meeting. Who’s handing these out?”
After Rory pointed out the culprit, her mother stormed across the sales floor toward the woman, who was trying to shove a flyer in Maybelline’s hands. The eighty-year-old refused, stomping her cane on the floor, narrowly missing the other woman’s foot. She jumped back, almost running into Rory’s mother. Fire in her eyes, Arika thrust out her hand and, in her sweetest voice, said, “Hello, I’m Arika, the owner of this store. Who might you be?”
Uh-oh, Rory thought. Nothing good ever happened when her mother used that tone of voice. You found yourself grounded or doing something you never expected to do, like cleaning out the garage.
“Blondie’s in trouble,” Liz whispered in a sing-song voice so only her friend could hear.
Rory nodded her head in total agreement.
The blonde-haired woman mumbled something and pushed back her shoulders, trying to look brave, but before she knew what was happening, Arika guided the woman out the door with the rest of her flyers and returned to her invited guests.
“Your mother hasn’t lost the touch,” Liz said.
Rory silently agreed and went back to talking with people on the floor.
Half an hour remained in the two-hour event when
Rory met Nixie at the refreshment table. Somewhere along the way, the woman had switched from cider to champagne.
“How’s Ian doing?” Rory asked. “Have you been able to see him?”
“They let me visit him this morning. I think I told you last night, he has a lawyer now. That’s a relief. There’s talk of extraditing him to Washington state. I don’t know what’s going to happen to the hotel without him there.”
“He and his partners will have to hire another manager,” Rory said. “Though I suppose it might cause problems to have one of the owners in jail.”
Nixie looked at her, a peculiar expression on her face.
“I know he owns the Akaw with several other people,” Rory said. “You didn’t know?”
Nixie shook her head. “No, he never told me.”
“What about his confession for, you know...?” Rory asked.
“I still don’t believe he killed her. I’m not sure the police do, either. He won’t tell them any details about how he did it and what he has told them doesn’t seem to jibe with the evidence. I know he confessed but, for the life of me, I don’t understand why he would tell the police he killed her if he didn’t do it.”
Rory looked at Nixie with sympathy. She wondered if Ian knew about the embezzlement accusations that Tempest had been flinging around, and if he’d told the police he committed the crime because he thought Nixie killed Jasmine.
“You two are close, right?”
“We’ve been out a few times recently. We knew each other when we both lived in the Seattle area. I was good friends with his wife. My husband and I convinced him to move down here when she died. He’s really helped me out the last six months. I don’t know what I’ll do with him in jail.”
Before she could say anything else, Arika rang the hand bell again. “Could I have your attention, everyone?” As soon as the crowd was quiet enough, she continued, “We’re going to be raffling off those items now. Viveca, could you come over here, please?”
Viveca stood up and, a bit unsteadily, headed toward the front of the room where Arika waited for her. Rory watched with concern as the woman made her way through the crowd. The guest of honor had almost reached her destination when she suddenly sank to the floor, unconscious.
Chapter 26
Confusion reigned as everyone talked at once. Hulbert rushed to his wife’s side. Mel pushed her way to the front of the crowd while Detective Green held everyone back, clearing a space around the fallen woman so the off-duty paramedic could examine her. While Mel knelt down by Viveca’s side, Arika gently guided Hulbert to a stool behind the cash register. The store owner dialed 911 and held the phone up to Mel’s face so she could explain the situation to the emergency operator.
Trying to stay out of the way, Rory sank down onto the chair behind the signing table and watched the crowd. She kept her eye on Veronica, afraid she would whip out a camera and start taking pictures. To Rory’s great relief, the reporter merely stood to one side and observed the scene before her, occasionally jotting observations down in a spiral-bound notepad.
Rory retrieved a pen and a book that had fallen to the floor. Not until she began straightening the pattern books and packets on the table in front of her did she realize she was sitting in the same chair Viveca had been in right before she collapsed.
After the paramedics came and went with Hulbert accompanying his wife to the hospital, the crowd milled around and talked amongst themselves, no one sure what to do next. People were starting to drift toward the exit when Detective Green held up his hand and called for their attention.
“Before you leave, I’d like to get everyone’s name, address, and phone number. Just in case I need to talk with you later,” he said.
“Does that mean you think there’s something suspicious going on?” someone shouted from the back.
“Not necessarily. It’s just a precaution. Thank you all in advance for your cooperation.”
“Bit of a cart before the horse, don’t you think?” someone behind Rory said. “We don’t even know if she’s dead yet.”
Rory looked around, but couldn’t tell who had said the words.
One by one people filed out the front door. The detective pulled out his flip-top notepad and stood next to the exit, writing down each person’s name and contact information.
Rory stayed behind the table, straightening and re-straightening the same books and packets as she watched the attendees file out. She was about to throw out the almost empty plastic glass sitting next to the packets when she realized Viveca had probably drunk from it and the police might want to examine it.
Making sure not to touch the glass, Rory used a pattern book to move it closer to her, so she could prevent anyone from contaminating evidence. She motioned Mel over to the table and pointed at the glass. “This is what Viveca was drinking from. Do you think the doctors will want to see it? Would examining the liquid help them figure out how to treat her?”
Before Rory could stop her, Mel picked up the glass and sniffed its contents. “Maybe. You should ask Martin.”
The woman returned the glass to the table and joined the exit line. Rory pushed it to the side to make sure no one else touched it. She listened to the conversations going on around her as everyone inched toward the door. Most were talking about Viveca and how sad it was that two people in the same family had collapsed in a similar fashion. Veronica moved down the line, interviewing anyone who would answer her questions as they waited to exit.
A voice, which Rory thought belonged to Mel, mentioned Karma. When she looked around to verify her theory, she spotted the woman halfway down the line, talking with the reporter.
After Detective Green took everyone’s information and shooed Veronica out the door, the only people left in the store besides him were Arika, Liz, and Rory.
Rory motioned the detective over to the table. “I think this is the glass Viveca was drinking out of.”
“Thanks. Did you touch it?”
“No, but Mel did.”
Detective Green raised an eyebrow.
“She was checking it out to see if someone could have drugged it. I asked her to,” Rory said.
“I see. Was Viveca drinking champagne or cider?”
“Champagne, I think.”
Arika volunteered some paper bags, and the detective packed up the glass as well as the open bottles of cider and champagne for later analysis.
“Do you think her glass was doctored?” Rory asked the detective.
“If it was, we’ll find out. Now, tell me what you know about this glass she was drinking from.”
“She had it for the toast, I think.”
“Did she get it from the refreshment table herself or did someone give it to her?” he continued.
Rory thought back to the presentation and how everyone had rushed to get a drink for the toast. “It was a madhouse. Everyone was trying to get a glass. I have no idea where this one came from.”
“Okay. Let me know if you remember more later.”
“Wait. There’s something else. One of the protesters, a woman with white blonde hair and glasses, left before Viveca collapsed.”
“I remember seeing her.” Detective Green turned to the store’s owner. “Mrs. Anderson, could you keep everything as it is for now? Don’t clean up. You can cash out the register. I’d like you to keep the store closed until I know what I’m dealing with.”
Arika nodded. “I was planning on closing tomorrow anyway.”
As Arika and the detective continued talking, Liz drew Rory aside. “Don’t you think it’s odd two people from the same family collapsed in similar ways? Maybe there’s some family secret you don’t know about.”
“Maybe,” Rory said thoughtfully. “I’ll ask Peter when I drop off Jasmine’s things. At least we know Ian’s not involved. He’s in jail.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. He could have gotten someone else to dose her drink. Nixie was here. They’re pretty attached to each other.”
&nb
sp; “Maybe.” Rory thought about the crowd in the store. “Pretty much everyone we thought might have murdered Jasmine was here except Peter and Brandy.”
“I guess that lets them off the hook.”
“For this, anyway. Unless, of course, they sent someone else like you suggested. But maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves. She could have collapsed from all the stress she was under. She might have simply had a heart attack.” Rory looked over at the detective, who was finishing up with her mother. “We’ll have to see what the police find out.”
With Arika’s Scrap ’n Paint temporarily sealed by the police, Rory and her mother headed to the Akaw to pack up the booth and await news about Viveca. Word had spread to the other exhibitors that the painting teacher had collapsed at her meet and greet. As soon as Rory and her mother stepped onto the trade show floor, everyone crowded around them. Talking all at once, they asked questions about the event, some even wanting a blow-by-blow description of everything that happened.
Arika politely waved them all away. As soon as the curious exhibitors realized neither of the two women planned on saying a word, they left the two of them alone to break down the Scrap ’n Paint booth.
Rory brought the empty boxes out from under the tables, and they began the laborious process of packing up the items they hadn’t sold during the convention. As Rory stacked wooden plates into a box, she glanced across the aisle. No one appeared to have been in the booth recently. Bottles still stood on the shelves, waiting for someone to pack them up.
“Do you think Hulbert will need help with his booth?” Rory said to her mother.
“We should ask. When we’re done here, I’ll see what I can find out,” Arika said before returning to packing up two-ounce bottles of acrylic paint.
The two worked steadily and, less than an hour later, three-quarters of the booth was repacked. Rory was beginning to take apart and collapse the fixtures when, clipboard in hand, Nixie stopped by.
“Just wanted to let you know about the change of schedule,” the convention organizer said. “We’ve had some personnel...issues in the hotel since Ian was arrested.” She was about to say more when another exhibitor drew the woman aside to ask a question.
Paint the Town Dead Page 19
