An Artistic Homicide

by Raven Snow

  “What a nice lady,” said Lydia, leaning against the counter.

  “I wouldn’t know,” murmured Nadine, rightfully a bit upset that she had been left so long on her lonesome.

  “What were you two talking about?” Rowen couldn’t help but ask.

  “Oh, this and that. She wanted to know about Seraphina and where Darren and I stood since the divorce.”

  “She doesn’t resent you for the affair?”

  Lydia laughed like that would be ridiculous. “I helped Seraphina prove her case during the divorce. She thanked me for that. I can’t imagine she holds a grudge.”

  Rowen could, but she didn’t mention that. She just hoped that Lucy was bored and not planning some sort of elaborate revenge. She was probably worrying too much. “So,” she began, changing the subject. “Do either of you feel like Greek food?”

  Chapter Six

  Hawthorne sure did take his time in sending over a copy of the guest list. Regular business hours at the Inquirer came and went. Margo and Willow went home. Rose and Peony remained. Rose felt obligated to stay, she said. Saying she wasn’t sure what sort of irresponsible things Rowen would do without her around especially since she had proven herself even more erratic on this one.

  Peony stayed for more obscure reasons. She said she just wanted to help. It seemed like she was still quite shaken by the incident at the gallery opening. She wanted to help solve the murder in whatever capacity she could be of the most use.

  Rowen fell asleep at her desk while they waited, lulled into slumber by the rhythmic sounds of Rose typing away through her open office door. She woke with a start more than an hour later. Her mind felt fuzzy and her cheek was damp from resting in a puddle of her own drool. She groaned and leaned back in her chair, stretching. Rose’s hand was still on her shoulder.

  “Wake up. It’s here,” said Rose, holding a collated printout in her free hand. “Let’s go ahead and get this over with so that we can go home.”

  “Technically, it could have some sort of connection to the occult,” said a voice that Rowen didn’t recognize. She looked around to find that the television mounted on the wall was playing Channel 2. On the screen, Julia Martinez was sitting across from a diminutive man with a bald head and bow tie.

  “Who’s that?” asked Rowen.

  Peony was sitting on the edge of her desk, so focused on the news that she didn’t seem to hear her cousin. “Channel 2 special interview,” Rose said with a sigh. “They have an occult expert on to talk about the pentagram they found on the back of the statue. I’m not sure what makes him a specialist. I think he wrote a book or something.”

  Rowen groaned. “People are going to think this has our name written all over it.”

  “Well, it’s not like we could expect them to just leave that detail out,” Rose said, sounding resigned about that. “I mean, we already mentioned the pentagram in our paper. It’s not like we’re hiding from the facts. I’d like to think I wrote a very compelling piece about how the inverted pentagram is a very generic symbol and one that was clearly drawn there to misdirect.”

  “Yeah, sure. Like people around here are going to believe that.”

  “Probably not, but there’s no reason to get all bent out of shape about it. We did what we could. Whatever they think, it’s not like there’s any proof that we were involved in this.”

  Peony switched the television off with a shiver. “I don’t like this,” she said. “I don’t like any of this.”

  “Well, let’s see what we can find out.” Rose waved the guest list again. “The sooner we look through this thing, the sooner we can all go home and relax, right?”

  “Right.” Rowen took the list from her cousin and separated the pages into three equal parts. She handed them around. “Let’s see what we find.”

  ***

  The list of people invited versus the list of people who had actually shown up was extensive. Granted, the place had only been open for a night. More people might have shown up after opening night. It was hard to say. Going through the list, there were all the names she had expected to see. There was Lucy Odele, Philip and Reginald, and some well-known names from Tarricville like the Stonewalls. There were some other names as well. Lots of Powers and Hucklebees. “Who are these people?” Rowen asked, pointing the last names out to Rose.

  “Reginald and Philip Powers, right? Those were the men that went with mom and Nadine to the show, remember?” prompted Rose.

  “I guess. I didn’t get their last names.” She frowned at the surnames a moment longer. “Do you think the last names are a coincidence or did a lot of the family get invited?”

  “There’s a guy named Nathaniel Powers that Mr. Hawthorne wanted in the show,” said Peony, still frowning down at her own portion of the list. “He went back and forth a lot on whether he was or wasn’t going to have his art there.”

  Rowen was surprised to hear that. “Who told you?”

  “Hawthorne mentioned it to me,” said Peony. “He called earlier today to tell me my paintings might be moved… assuming they aren’t taken down altogether. He said it was because they needed room for Nathaniel’s art.”

  “Oh, Peony.” Rose went to her cousin and gave her a hug where she sat. “That’s terrible. Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “It didn’t really seem important,” Peony said with a small shrug. “The paintings can go ahead and go to the highest bidder, if they end up taking them down I guess. I’d just kind of hoped they would hang up for a while longer so that people could see them.” It seemed like she had mostly resigned herself to the idea of the paintings being taken down.

  Rowen felt sorry for Peony, but mostly she was just mad. “The nerve of that guy.” She looked at Rose. “You know this is just because he doesn’t know if the town is going to be mad at us yet. He’s going to do whatever makes him look the best.”

  “Well, having Nathaniel featured in this show could win over the Powers, if he’s trying to sell the house to one of them or, I don’t know, invite more wealthy people into his social circle.” Rose offered Peony a smile. “It’s not anything personal. Well… I doubt it’s all personal. Your art is fantastic and Hawthorne knows it. He’s just looking out for number one.”

  “I wonder what this Nathaniel guy is like,” Rowen wondered aloud. “Do you know why he waffled back and forth so many times on letting his art be featured?”

  “I don’t know.” Peony gave another shrug. “Hawthorne said something about him not being a second fiddle anymore. I really didn’t care about that at the time.”

  “Aah.” Rowen felt confident she had this Nathaniel guy pegged. “He’s got the spotlight with Dayveed out of the way.”

  “Not really,” said Rose. “With Dayveed dead, his art is worth more than ever. He’s a big deal now. As soon as they reopen the gallery, it’s his art that’s going to be drawing people in. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had to change the name or the theme or something.”

  “There you go.” Rowen looked to Peony. “It’s not too late to draw some corny pictures of Dayveed as an angel and get some more of your art back in there.”

  Rose narrowed her eyes at her cousin. “Not funny.”

  “Sorry. Seriously, though. I’d still bet you that Nathaniel is looking to cash in on the extra attention this gallery showing is about to get.” That was enough of that. Rowen changed the subject before she genuinely upset anyone. “Now, what’s the deal with the Hucklebees? Who are they and why were so many attending this thing?”

  “That’s Karen’s last name,” said Peony. “Remember? The one that painted the mountain?”

  Rowen cringed. “Oh, right. How could I forget?”

  “She must have had Hawthorne put her whole family on the invite list,” Rose reasoned.

  “Looks like it,” Rowen agreed. “Looks like most of them came, too.”

  “I suppose one of them could be the murderer.” Rose sounded reluctant to actually commit to that theory.

  Rowen
was much faster to pounce on any lead. “Definitely, if they thought Karen deserved more recognition, they could have killed Dayveed. You know, gotten him out of the way to make room for family.”

  “Does that really make room, though?” Rose shook her head, not buying it. “If anything, Dayveed’s death makes him more popular. If someone in her family killed him, I can’t imagine it was on purpose.”

  “You think it was an accident?”

  “Obviously.”

  Rowen nodded. She had considered that possibility as well. “And they drew the pentagram to throw people off.”

  “Can I go home?” Peony had gone pale. She wasn’t looking so hot.

  “Yeah, of course,” said Rose, her own face etched with concern.

  “We’ll see you tomorrow,” Rowen added, offering her a smile. Maybe they had pushed it too far, letting her stick around for talk about this. Rowen hadn’t realized the murder had hit her this hard. She felt foolish for overlooking that.

  Rose and Rowen both turned back to their respective lists, studying them in silence as Peony grabbed her things to head back to the Greensmith house. “Bye guys,” she said swaying a bit on her feet near the door. “See ya.”

  “You sure you’re all right to drive?” asked Rowen. “You look tired.”

  Peony nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Well, call us when you get home.” Rowen watched her go. Before she had a chance to get out the door all the way, Eric appeared on the other side of it. He held the door open and headed inside once she was through.

  “Working late?” asked Eric.

  At least he was talking to her again. Rowen ventured a half-hearted smile that he didn’t return. “Yeah, but we’re almost done.”

  Eric approached them both and looked down at the list they were working on. Rose had already made a list. She liked to plan ahead. “Are these people you’re planning on interviewing?” he asked, turning his head to read the names.

  “Something like that.” Rowen strained to see the list, but she could imagine who was on it.

  Eric fell silent, his eyes moving down the list as if considering each name individually. “The Powers family should be easy enough to have a word with.”

  Rowen wasn’t sure how her husband knew that for sure. “What do you mean?”

  “Your aunts are dating those two Powers brothers.” Eric looked from Rowen to Rose, an eyebrow raised. “Seriously? You didn’t notice?”

  Rowen looked at Rose to see if she had known about this. Rose was staring right back at her, clearly wondering the same. “When did that happen?” Rowen asked her husband.

  Eric shrugged. “The night of the gallery opening, I think? Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it was just a one-time thing.”

  Rowen and her cousin exchanged looks, like one of them knew more details than the other. “I wasn’t really paying attention,” Rose admitted. “I was thinking about the story about the gallery I was going to run the next day. And then they found Dayveed, so…”

  “I guess I didn’t think much of it.” Rowen thought back to the brothers showing up at the store. Had they seemed flirty then? “We should probably ask them about it.”

  Rose nodded. “I bet you they could get us an interview with Nathaniel.”

  “An interview?” Rowen wasn’t so sure about that.

  “Why not?” Rose set the list she was holding aside and stood, like she was ready to go home herself. “If he’s getting art featured at the gallery, it’s a new story.”

  “I guess.”

  “Come on.” Rose went to Rowen and took her list from her. “We’ve got enough leads to start with. If we hit a dead end exploring these tomorrow we can always do some more digging.”

  “I guess.” Rowen gave in. She helped Rose lock up and told her goodbye. She followed Eric to his car afterwards, forgetting that they had taken different ones that morning.

  Eric paused with his hand on the door handle. “You’re over there,” he said, pointing.

  “What?” Rowen looked back over her shoulder. She spotted her old junker car several car spaces down. “Oh, right.” It had almost slipped her mind that he was still angry with her.

  “What’s got you distracted?” asked Eric. He looked genuinely curious. Rowen hoped that was a good sign. She wasn’t sure she could stand him holding a grudge for much longer. Not that she didn’t deserve it after that stunt she had pulled without telling him.

  “I don’t know,” Rowen admitted. “I guess I’m just feeling lost on this one. Something doesn’t feel right, you know? So many people were there that day. It feels like I have way too many suspects.”

  “Like who?” asked Eric.

  “Well, I guess we’re going to try to get a word in with Karen Hucklebee tomorrow, and then we’ll see about the Powers family, obviously. Really though, it could be anyone that was there, couldn’t it? And there were just so many people there. It’s hard to narrow down.”

  Eric inclined his head as if genuinely considering her words. “Who was there before the show started?”

  “I can’t know for sure. Why?”

  “Because it’s more likely that whoever murdered Dayveed did so before the gallery got crowded, right?”

  “Right.” Rowen had considered that. “It could be the janitor. We’ll probably want to have a word with him at some point. There’s also…”

  “Also?”

  “Peony,” Rowen admitted reluctantly. “But it couldn’t have been her.”

  “Probably not,” Eric agreed quickly, but Rowen couldn’t tell if he actually meant that. In all fairness, a member of the Greensmith family had committed murder before. Their grandmother had been in Lainswich Correctional for it until her passing only recently. Who was to say such a thing couldn’t happen again? “What motive would she have?” Now Eric was just trying to make her feel better.

  “She wouldn’t.” Rowen managed a smile and headed for her own car. “I’ll see you at home.”

  “Drive safe.”

  “You too.” She watched him get in the car and start the engine. So he wasn’t so annoyed at her that he wanted her dead, right? That was something, wasn’t it? Rowen groaned. It really wasn’t. She had pretty thoroughly screwed up this time. She couldn’t say with any certainty how long his grudge would hold, but she wouldn’t be able to blame him if it was a while.

  Chapter Seven

  Rowen woke up to Eric giving her shoulder a shake the next morning. He’d told her she didn’t have to sleep on the sofa the night before. Not that he’d been particularly cuddly in bed. Still, it was a lot more comfortable than sleeping on the couch. It was so comfortable that, apparently, she had slept right through her phone ringing.

  “It looks like it’s Rose,” said Eric, blearily. At the foot of the bed, Chester was still snoring.

  Rowen reached for her phone on the nightstand. It was still fifteen minutes before her alarm was set to go off she noted when she picked it up. “What is it?” she answered, her tone maybe a tad harsh. She didn’t take too kindly to people waking her up needlessly early.

  “I thought you wanted to go to the press release?” It was Rose. “I texted you about it last night. Remember?”

  Rowen had to strain her tired brain to think back. “Vaguely. I thought we were gonna go after I got to work.”

  “That would be way too late. You know these things happen first thing. It’s been that way ever since Ben took over.” Rose sighed. “I honestly thought you would be up by now. I swung by because I thought it might be more convenient if we rode together today.”

  “You’re outside?” That woke Rowen the rest of the way. She sat up in bed, swinging her legs over the edge of it.

  “I am, but I take it you’re not even close to ready?” Now Rose was sounding annoyed.

  “Hang on.” Rowen cradled the phone between her ear and neck as she stood. She grabbed her robe from where it was draped over a bedpost and slipped it on over her thin nightgown. She was down the stairs by the time she real
ized it was dumb to still be on the phone. She hung up and dropped it into her robe pocket right before opening the door.

  Rose gave Rowen a cursory look up and down. “I can just go by myself,” she said with a frown.

  “Just give me five minutes. I’ll throw something on.” Rowen jogged back up the stairs.

  Eric was out of bed, pulling his own robe on. He had likely given up on sleeping that last fifteen minutes after all the commotion. “Headed to work?”

  “Looks like it. Press meeting.” Rowen opened a couple of drawers. She grabbed a pair of jeans and a blouse and squirmed out of her PJs to put them both on. “Maybe we can do lunch or something?”

  Eric shook his head, making Rowen’s heart drop in her chest. “I’m meeting a new client over lunch. Divorce case.”

  “Ah.” Rowen tried not to sound disappointed. “Dinner then?”

  “We’ll see. You might be busy.”

  “Fair enough.” He had a point. It was really too early to say what kind of day awaited Rowen. She had a lot on her plate with this new murder. Still, it hurt to not really know when things were going to be okay between her and her husband again. He headed for the bathroom as she brushed her fingers through her frizzy auburn hair. She grabbed her makeup bag from the vanity, slung her purse over her shoulder, and headed downstairs. She stopped by the bathroom on the way. She had hoped for a kiss goodbye, but there wasn’t really time to wait. “I’ll see you tonight,” she called through the door.

  “All right,” Eric called back.

  Rowen frowned. She had hoped for a little more than that but she didn’t push. She headed downstairs where Rose was looking at her watch. “You can’t just get a statement from him at home?” Rowen asked, sweeping by Rose and leading the way down the front steps. “What’s the use of living with the police chief if you don’t get exclusive information early?”

  “Well, I love him and want him to keep his job. So there’s that.” Rose got in on the driver’s side of her hatchback. “I know that actually following procedure and laws can be hard for you to imagine sometimes,” she mumbled quietly and to herself.