Hit and Run in Cherry Hills

by Paige Sleuth

  Lady Fairchild clucked her tongue. “Angela, hurry up now.”

  The white cat was still sitting outside. She turned her nose up and flashed Lady Fairchild a look that made it clear that since she was the one in charge, she would come in when she was ready and not a minute sooner.

  “Suit yourself.” Lady Fairchild began inching the door closed. “You stay out there in the cold if you insist. We’ll have a nice visit without you.”

  Angela didn’t budge, although she did keep a keen eye on the narrowing gap between the door and its frame. She waited until there was barely a sliver left before springing to her feet and slithering back inside.

  Lady Fairchild grinned at Kat as she secured the door. “That gets her every time.”

  Kat laughed. “I’d try that with my cat Matty, but I suspect she’d actually enjoy spending all night outside.”

  “Well, I have the added advantage that it’s almost time for dinner. On Friday nights Angela gets chicken primavera, one of her favorites.”

  Kat wasn’t sure if that was a wet food blend or if Angela actually ate better than most of the people she knew. The way Lady Fairchild doted on her animals, she wouldn’t be surprised either way.

  Lady Fairchild set Muffin down. The second the dachshund’s feet hit the floor he bounded over to Kat to resume his greeting. Angela watched the dog from across the room, doing nothing to hide the disdain from her face as Muffin tried his best to lick their guest.

  “So, 4F is holding an auction next month, yes?” Lady Fairchild said.

  “That’s right.” Kat attempted to pet Muffin, but he wouldn’t sit still long enough for her to make contact. “We would be honored if you would consider donating something.”

  “I would be happy to. Why don’t you have a look around and see if anything in particular tickles your fancy.”

  “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to take anything you don’t intend to part with.”

  “Nonsense,” Lady Fairchild said. “I have so much stuff I doubt I’d miss any of it.”

  “Well, okay then.”

  Kat drew her hand away from Muffin and began circling around the room. She paused when she caught sight of several mystery books lying flat on the bookshelf, a smattering of dogs and cats on the covers. “What about those?” she asked. “I imagine they would be popular for an animal event.”

  “They’re all yours.” Lady Fairchild swiped them off the shelf. She started to hand them to Kat then stopped. “Better yet, give me a couple days and I’ll make up a basket filled with my favorite reads.”

  “We’d appreciate that.”

  Lady Fairchild laid the books on the edge of the piano bench. “What else would you like? Don’t be shy. I love helping a good cause.”

  Something on the far wall above the fireplace caught Kat’s eye. It was a painting of a forest with a single deer half hidden behind a copse of trees. The rich interplay of colors reminded her of the lake painting she had seen in Imogene’s house.

  She walked closer. “Was this done by Nikita Stoll?”

  “Why, yes. Her style is quite distinct, is it not?”

  Kat studied the deer. “It’s very detailed.”

  “I apologize, but I must decline donating that piece to your auction.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t asking you to,” Kat assured her. “I just wanted to look at it, if you don’t mind.”

  Lady Fairchild gestured her invitation. “Be my guest.”

  They relocated beneath the painting. Muffin raced after them, anxious to keep the humans within licking distance. Angela strolled over at a more languid pace, planting herself by her human’s feet. She tilted her head to the side in a pose that matched Lady Fairchild’s.

  “Isn’t it lovely?” Lady Fairchild said, a reverent look on her face.

  “It is,” Kat agreed.

  Lady Fairchild sighed. “I heard about her accident last night. Such a shame!”

  “Did you know Nikita?”

  “Yes. She was such an intelligent young woman. And so full of life, too! She could brighten up a room just by being in it, much like her paintings.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t know her better.”

  “You would have liked her, I’m sure.” Lady Fairchild spun toward Kat. “But back to business. Although I’m unwilling to part with this particular painting, I have some others I wouldn’t mind donating to 4F. Are you familiar with Nolan Calabresi’s work?”

  Kat shook her head. “Who is he?”

  “Another local artist, though not as local as Nikita. He lives in Wenatchee. The dark subject matters are more his specialty, but he does create some striking pieces. Here.” Lady Fairchild edged toward the staircase. “Let me show you one of his works.”

  Angela and Muffin kept pace behind the humans as they ascended the curving staircase. Kat eyed the paintings lining their path upstairs, but none of them drew her attention as Nikita’s had. However, she did gather from the eclectic mix of styles that Lady Fairchild was quite the collector.

  “Many of these were done by West Coast artists,” Lady Fairchild said. “I like to support our local talent.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Kat replied.

  They made it to the upstairs corridor and continued down the hall. Kat felt as if they walked a mile before they finally ended up in an empty guest room.

  “Here’s one of Nolan’s early works,” Lady Fairchild said, pointing to the painting hanging on the far wall.

  Muffin whimpered before making a hasty U-turn and scrambling back the way they’d come. Angela didn’t leave, but she did halt in the doorway. The feline flicked her gaze toward the painting and meowed.

  Lady Fairchild chuckled. “The animals are not fans of Nolan’s art.”

  Kat wasn’t either. The painting in front of her was a slash of reds and blacks and blues. She wasn’t even sure what it was supposed to be. She couldn’t discern any noticeable shapes or patterns. It looked like something a madman might create if he were locked inside a room with only a brush and a few tubes of acrylics for company.

  “Nolan is a master at capturing the full range of human emotion,” Lady Fairchild said.

  “It’s kind of . . . a mess, don’t you think?” Kat said, struggling to understand why Lady Fairchild had purchased this piece. “Honestly, I’m having trouble figuring out what it’s supposed to be.”

  “It’s abstract. The title is Fury.”

  “Fury?” Kat echoed.

  Lady Fairchild nodded. “See how Nolan uses a series of short, quick strokes here? It’s indicative of how quick our tempers are to flare. And the contrast between the hues on this side represents how rage can pit our emotions against each other, spurring us to do things we wouldn’t normally even consider.”

  “Like what?” Kat asked.

  “Like, for example, hurt somebody we love.”

  Kat couldn’t help but conjure up the image of Nikita’s body crumpled on the pavement. “That’s rather . . . depressing.”

  “Not all art is meant to invoke pleasant feelings. Nolan’s work is more raw than Nikita’s, but no less worthy.”

  The detached, objective way that Lady Fairchild assessed the painting made Kat wonder if she had once been involved in the art world as more than just a private supporter of local talent.

  “This painting is actually one of my favorites,” Lady Fairchild said, smiling at Kat. “I used to have it on display downstairs, but Angela would hiss every time she passed by, and Muffy stopped coming into that room altogether.”

  Angela meowed her two cents.

  Lady Fairchild regarded the cat. “Yes, I know you want me to sell it.” She turned toward Kat. “Would you like it for your silent auction?”

  “Oh.” Kat had a hard time believing anyone would bid more than a couple bucks on this thing, but she supposed every dollar counted. “That would be very generous of you.”

  Angela seemed to sit up a little straighter, as though bolstered by the prospect of banishing the dreaded painting fr
om her home. Kat had the sneaking suspicion that if the feline were physically capable of such a feat she would haul the painting out to Kat’s car herself.

  “It’s about time I purchased another one of Nolan’s works anyway,” Lady Fairchild said. “I’ve been holding off since I have nowhere to put it.”

  Angela’s pupils narrowed to thin, vertical slits as a low growl started up from the center of her body.

  Lady Fairchild crossed the room and lifted the white cat into her arms. “Oh, hush now, Angela. You never come in here anyway.”

  Either Lady Fairchild’s words or her soothing strokes were enough to console the animal. Pretty soon the growl was replaced by purring.

  Kat, on the other hand, couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that Fury had given her. How angry would a person have to be to want to capture such distress on canvas?

  “Did Nolan and Nikita know each other?” Kat asked Lady Fairchild.

  “Oh, yes. But I don’t believe they were fond of each other’s styles. You’ve undoubtedly noticed that their paintings are quite different.”

  “Yes, they are.”

  “In fact, I dare say there might have been some rivalry between the two artists.”

  That got Kat’s attention. “Really?”

  “Yes.” Lady Fairchild kissed Angela’s head and smiled. “But what do you expect between two creative spirits?”

  Kat didn’t answer, a bigger question looming in her mind. Had Nolan Calabresi recently discovered a more effective outlet for his wrath than painting—an outlet such as murder?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Kat decided to stop by Imogene’s house after saying goodbye to Lady Fairchild. She wanted to check on her friend after what had happened the night before. Such a violent death occurring so close to home had to have left her at least a little shaken.

  “Kat!” Imogene said when she answered the door. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  “Hi, Imogene. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  “Of course not. You’re always welcome.”

  “I just came to see how you were holding up after yesterday,” Kat said.

  “As well as can be expected.” Imogene pursed her lips. “But it’s not me you should be worried about.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Imogene darted a look over her shoulder before hunching closer. “Nikita’s mother and sister are here from Wenatchee.”

  “They are?” Kat peered past her friend, but she couldn’t see anyone from this angle.

  “They pulled up to Nikita’s house a half hour ago to start putting her affairs in order,” Imogene said. “As soon as I saw them I went out to introduce myself and offer my condolences, but they looked so depressed I ended up inviting them over.”

  Clover chose that moment to join the humans. The white cat sat down and meowed first at Imogene, then at Kat.

  Kat crouched down to stroke him. “Let me guess, boy, one of them is sitting in your armchair.”

  Imogene chuckled. “Just wait until he finds out they’ll be sleeping in the guest room.”

  Kat glanced up. “You invited them to spend the night?”

  “It seemed like the neighborly thing to do. This way they can be close to Nikita’s.”

  “Why don’t they just stay at her house?”

  “After what happened over there?” Imogene shook her head. “It would be a miracle if they could get any sleep.”

  Kat didn’t see how sleeping in a stranger’s spare bedroom would be any easier, but she also wasn’t about to argue over a subject that didn’t concern her.

  Clover nudged Kat’s hand with his nose. Kat gave him one last pat before standing up.

  “Well, I didn’t mean to take you away from your guests,” she said, stepping backward. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Imogene latched onto Kat’s elbow. “You’re not in a hurry, are you?”

  “No, why?”

  Imogene hauled Kat inside and kicked the door shut. “I could use your help cheering Melissa and Valerie up.”

  Kat had to cling to the banister or risk tripping as Imogene pulled her up the stairs. “I don’t see how I can help. I didn’t even know Nikita.”

  “Just being around you is bound to brighten their spirits.”

  Kat had her doubts about that, but she dutifully followed her friend.

  Clover trotted behind them, a slight bounce in his step. From what Imogene had told her in the past, Kat gathered that the feline was rather territorial. She wouldn’t be surprised if he planned to stick close to his human’s side until their guests departed.

  When they reached the second floor, Imogene bent close to Kat’s ear and whispered, “Valerie, Nikita’s sister, can’t be older than twenty-five. It will be nice for her to have somebody of the same generation to talk to.”

  “I’m thirty-two. That’s a big gap.”

  “Perhaps, but you’re certainly closer to her in age than us fogies.”

  Before Kat could respond, Imogene plastered a big smile on her face and breezed into the master bedroom. Kat thought that was an odd place to stash her guests, but when she saw the woman who had to be Nikita’s mother staring at the lake painting on the wall, she understood why Imogene had chosen this room.

  “Melissa, Valerie,” Imogene said, her voice a little too chipper, “I’d like you to meet my dear friend, Kat Harper.”

  The young woman who had to be Valerie sat in the armchair next to the window. She had her head down and her knees pulled up to her chest, but she glanced up long enough for Kat to count one eyebrow and two nose rings. Without a word, she dropped her head back down, her pitch-black hair falling around her like a curtain being drawn.

  Nikita’s mother was a little more gracious. When Melissa faced Kat, she at least made the effort to smile. “Hello.”

  “I’m so sorry about your daughter,” Kat said.

  “Thank you.” Melissa’s eyes grew wet before straying back to the painting. “She was so very gifted, don’t you agree?”

  Kat felt a lump in her throat. “I do.”

  Clover leapt onto the bed and sat down. He held his head high and released a long, drawn-out meow that all but declared this was his domain and it was time for the visitors to leave.

  Melissa didn’t seem to notice the whiny cat, her gaze fixed on the painting. “Ever since Niki was a little girl I could tell she was going places,” she said. “She had this quality about her. You know what I’m referring to? Some people you can just tell they’re going to make something of themselves.”

  Kat thought she heard a noise from Valerie’s side of the room, but when she glanced in her direction she still had her head down.

  Melissa traced the eagle in Nikita’s painting with the tip of one finger. “She always had such a good eye for detail. Even before she was old enough to hold a paintbrush, she used to notice the most minute things. Once I had put on two different earrings, and when it was time for me to drive her to school she said to me, ‘Mommy, your jangles don’t match.’” Melissa let out a sob. “That’s what she called earrings way back when, before she learned the proper term.”

  Imogene patted Melissa’s arm. “She sounds like a delightful child.”

  Melissa swiped at her eyes. “Oh, she was.”

  Clover marched over to the edge of the mattress closest to Melissa and let out a piercing cry.

  Melissa spun toward him, her hand floating to her chest. “He sounds like he’s in pain.”

  “He does,” Kat agreed. Her eyes flitted over the cat in search of obvious injuries.

  Clover’s apparent distress even elicited a response from Valerie, who lifted her head up just high enough to look at him.

  Imogene flicked her wrist. “Don’t worry about him. He does that when he’s being ignored.”

  Clover jumped onto the floor and padded over to the door. When nobody followed him, he turned around and howled.

  Imogene laughed. “He’s trying to coax us into the kitchen. You can probably tel
l by his size that he never gets enough to eat.”

  Kat thought it was more likely that Clover was showing his unwanted guests to the door, but she didn’t contradict her friend.

  “Why does he keep staring at me?” Valerie asked.

  “He thinks that chair belongs to him,” Imogene told her. “He’s not accustomed to seeing somebody else sitting in it.”

  Valerie set her shoes on the floor. “I should leave then.”

  “Nonsense.” Imogene waved her back down. “You’ll stay right where you are. Clover can find somewhere else to sit.”

  Valerie shrugged and fingered her eyebrow ring.

  The edges of Melissa’s mouth dipped down. “That’s going to get infected if you keep playing with it, Val.”

  Valerie’s eyes bored into her mother’s. Without a word, she tugged the eyebrow ring harder.

  Melissa sighed before addressing Imogene. “Could I trouble you for some water?”

  “Absolutely. Bottled?”

  “Hot, if you don’t mind.”

  “Would you like some tea?” Imogene asked. “I have several varieties you can choose from.”

  “Imogene, you are a most gracious hostess.” Melissa strode across the room. “I’ll join you downstairs.”

  The two older women left with Clover right behind them. Kat glanced at Valerie, the burden of entertaining the young woman weighing on her shoulders now that they were alone.

  But Valerie spoke before Kat could. “You see how they didn’t ask if I wanted tea?” she said.

  “Oh.” Kat was a little taken aback by the sharpness of her tone. “I’m sure Imogene will make you some.”

  “I hate tea. My point is, she didn’t even bother asking.” Valerie made a face. “It’s like I don’t even exist.”

  Kat sat down on the bed. “I don’t think she meant anything by it. Imogene probably assumed you would speak up if you wanted some.”

  “I’m not talking about her, I’m talking about my mother.” Valerie swiped her hair away from her eyes. “She’s always been like this. Honestly, I’d bet money she wishes I were the daughter who died.”