Bianca's eyes cleared, and she said, "But you promise not to tell anyone else that isn't working on this?"
"Only if you promise to do some research and find a form of art that you can be excited about."
I smiled at her. In the back of my mind I knew this would be the point that Aubrey hugged, but I was not up for that level of comforting. Thankfully, she smiled back and did not advance for a hug.
"Okay, I think I can agree to that. I've been so mad at myself, and this painting business for so long. I just. . ."
She trailed off and looked back at the atrocity that sat on the easel.
"Thank you for not laughing," she said and covered her canvas back up.
"You'll find the art style you're meant to make."
Would I find the artist defacing the town?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tuesday, April 14th
There was no time to tell Aubrey what I had learned once I got back to the cafe. With the afternoon rush we were busy brewing coffee like the customers were afraid it would run out before they got their turn. Easily one of our top five busiest afternoons on record.
Guess I should thank Color the Town for bringing in the added traffic. Event weeks were my most hated, yet loved times. It was fun to meet so many faces, and from various walks of life, but man was it exhausting.
During the weeks she had to get the kids, Aubrey left at exactly three in the afternoon. So on her way out I let her know that Bianca had a solid alibi. We agreed to give the anagram another shot, and that she would pass it onto Jess as well.
By time the day was finished and I had cleaned the cafe, my only desire was a hot bath, a good book, and dinner.
Azure was waiting for me at the top of the stairs, eager for his own dinner to be served.
"I think we're out of salmon cans," I said walking to the pantry where I kept the food.
"You could cook some more for me," he transmitted while he rubbed his side against my bare leg, nudging my hand with his head. His scales felt warm and slick against my leg.
"I think not," I laughed. "It's been a long day, and you just had fresh salmon last night."
"Rightfully so," he transmitted.
"It does look like I have to rule Bianca out," I said. "And that only leaves the anagram'd name, I guess. Just seems strange. Using an obvious fake name, just to paint the town in graffiti?"
"Who else then?" he transmitted. "Jason? Some other teen?"
"The film did show what looked to be a teen," I said. "But it's not Jason."
"So, there's some other teen running around painting the town, but no one knows they're a painter?"
"Well, when you put it like that," I said and pulled back the lid on a liver and onion can.
"This is a suitable second option," he transmitted before shoving his entire face into the bowl.
"If you say so," I said and held my nose.
Why was it that cat food from the can smelled so horrible? And what was it about cat food that appealed to dragons so much? Azure had tried to explain the richness of the flavors, but it made my stomach turn.
I placed a TV dinner in the microwave and went into the living room to take my weight off of my feet and waited for the food to cook. I picked my notepad up from the coffee table and worked through the name again.
SALTY BENNE
ANTSY LEBEN
BENNY STALE
The microwave dinged. I pried myself from the sofa and stumbled into the kitchen. In the five minutes it took for my food to finish, my legs had called it a day. It took an asserted effort to make them work again.
The food was nothing special, but it was hot, and I was hungry. One day I would have to teach myself to cook. I was a thirty-two-year-old woman, who did not know how to feed myself.
Azure curled up next to me on the sofa while I ate my food.
"Did you figure it out?" Azure asked.
"Nope," I transmitted.
I set my plate down and looked at the pad again. That last one, that could resemble someone I know. If I just moved the N and the Y. Oh my tea. AZURE! I figured it out! While I did not intentionally transmit it, his nudge into my leg told me to continue. So, I wrote the name on the pad.
BEN STANLEY
Ben? Could it really be the quiet accountant who loved to paint, but was too embarrassed to tell anyone that he loved it?
He relied on our businesses doing well to support his own. It made little sense that he would want to harm us. He had always been kind to me and Tona. What changed? What would make him choose now to attack the town?
"That just doesn't make sense. Maybe it really is a teenager."
"I thought you were sure it was the anagram? Seems like you need to accept the facts no matter how unlikely."
This coming from the dragon who had blamed one of his own tribe mates of killing Aunt Tona.
"How about we hold off on blaming Ben until I have a chance to discover his alibi."
"If you want to go and waste your time," Azure transmitted, and turned around so that his bottom faced me.
"Innocent until proven guilty," I quoted.
"Silly human senses of ethics," he transmitted and nipped at my toes.
"No, sir!" I yelled and nudged his nose with my foot. "You keep those fangs to yourself."
He purred against my foot in way of an apology. Sometimes, he was so cat-like, that I would swear I hallucinated the day he revealed himself to be a dragon.
"I am still grateful for your help with the anagram."
"You're welcome," he nuzzled my leg.
"Are you going to fly around town again tonight?"
"Yes, but I can't promise I'll find anything," he transmitted. "I never noticed that Vince Feed Co. was being targeted."
"That's true," I said more to myself.
If Azure had not seen him, and he had an excellent bird's-eye view. That meant that whoever was tagging the town had gotten better at hiding their tracks. It would also explain how they could tag the side of the building without a motorist noticing.
This mystery was turning into a riddle inside an enigma.
What if it was a rival dragon tribe? Targeting us to hurt our businesses? They would know that we are all tourist oriented. That would take the tea, when it came to predicting what I was in for with the cat show.
I was not looking forward to whatever drama awaited me during that event.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Wednesday, April 15th
Ben's offices resembled what I would expect a professor's to look like. The average landscape paintings, plenty of reading materials, and brown leather seating options. They matched the stone flooring nicely, but gave the entire room a stuffy quality. Not what I would call an inviting environment. Though I suppose it signaled success, which is probably what Ben had been most concerned with.
Who would trust a struggling accountant?
"Hailey?" Ben asked as he stepped out of his office. "You're cutting it a bit close on your taxes."
"Oh, no," I said. "I've already filed weeks ago."
"Excellent," he said and wiped his forehead. "What can I help you with then?"
I giggled, but cleared my throat, reminding myself why I was there.
"Can we speak in your office?"
"Of course," he said, stepping back from the door to allow me in.
Once inside, he shut the door behind me and took a seat behind his desk, where two monitors flanked him, with a closed laptop in the and center. The arrangement drew the eye directly to him. I sat in a comfortable, though plain, slate gray chair.
"I know about your anagram," I said, jumping straight into the matter at hand.
I saw no reason to beat around the bush. He was a busy man, and I had the cafe to get back to if I were to make my shift on time. It was not right for me to keep asking Aubrey to cover. Not that she would ever complain. She genuinely loved working there.
"I see," Ben said and leaned back in his chair weighing his next words. "And who have you told?"
"No one," I lied.
"Thank you," he said, wiping his forehead again. "I would appreciate it, if you kept this between us."
"Appearances," he said, grimacing. "You can understand, right? Business owners don't want their accountants having artist temperaments."
I swallowed the laughter that had been about to erupt, and said, "Of course."
Another lie, there was no way I could keep this from Aubrey, but I could count on her on to keep the secret.
"I'm an active member of Color the Town," he explained gesturing to the few landscapes that hung around the office.
For some reason, I assumed that he had an artist client who had gifted them. What was it with people wanting to hide their artistic abilities from the rest of the town? Jason, Ben, and Bianca. They all seemed ashamed of their desire to make art. I thought it was admirable. The closest I had ever come to making art was a few short stories I wrote in college for the student magazine.
"You know," I said. "I would never think less of you for painting landscapes. I always thought they were nice. Didn't realize you made them, but always thought they were hand painted, by a local artist."
"Thank you," he said. "But you and Tona were always polite. Never knew either of y'all to gossip about townsfolk behind their backs. Can't say the same for the rest of the town."
"I understand," I said. "But maybe you should give them a chance. Who knows? They might think it's cool that their accountant is also an artist. Perk of living in a small town, everyone is more like an extended family than acquaintances."
He laughed, and said, "Pie in the sky is what my father used to say. He's the one who told me to go into accounting. 'No one ever starved balancing a businessman's checkbook.'"
I smiled, rather than admit I felt bad for him.
"Besides," Ben went on. "The gallery rarely sells art off the wall, anyway. The tourists are more interested in the classes than buying the local art. No. My father was right. Stick with accounting and leave art as a private affair."
"What do you think about the tagging that's been happening?"
Ben stopped looking at his own wall art, and looked to me, and said, "Horrible business, that. A real shame, because the artwork isn't bad. Would you agree?"
"I do," I said. "If the person were to use their art for inspiration, instead of disparaging remarks, like they did on the art gallery, the town might hire them."
"Maybe," he said, shaking his head in disagreement. "Regardless, I keep expecting the police to catch them any day."
"Yeah, I don't know what's preventing them. Do you have any idea who it could be?"
I wanted to ask him if it was him, but after his story about his father, there was no way I could be mean like that. Bianca's crying was still fresh in my memory. They would call me the town tea-tart at the rate I was upsetting people. Besides, he was Ben, the town accountant who knew everyone. There was no way that he did it.
"No," he said after a moment. "Have you asked Bianca? She knows all the artists around here."
"Yeah," I said. "I went to her first, but she doesn't have a clue."
"Well then," he said. "I don't think I can help you more than her. I try to keep my distance from the other artists. I don't want it getting around that I'm spending my time painting."
"I understand," I said. "Bianca gave me this list of local painters, and that's how I learned of you. Could one of them have done it?"
I pulled the list out of my pocket and passed it to him. He read over it, but met my eyes before speaking again.
"No," he said. "I don't see how. If I recall correctly, they targeted your wall last Wednesday?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Everyone on this list was at the mixer that night. I decided to mix, and make it seem like I was buying a piece. I wanted to overhear if anyone admired my landscape."
"They were there all night?" I said.
I had not even considered the fact that all the artists would have been at the mixer.
"I can't attest to all of them, but I know I saw each of them at least once. It did run late, I don't think I made it home until after midnight," he said. "I was exhausted Friday at work, but don't tell any of my other clients. I would never allow my personal life to interfere with my professional."
"Of course," I said. "No one would ever accuse you of not being professional. You're one of, if not the, best accountant in the Hill Country."
"Thank you," he said, and his cheeks blushed slightly.
I wondered if anyone had complimented him on his accounting abilities. I knew I never had, and I could not recall Aunt Tona ever doing so. No, I suspected that accountants were rather under appreciated.
"Well," I said, standing up. "Thank you for your time. I don't want to tie up any more of it on Tax Day."
"Thank you for stopping by," Ben said. "Sorry I couldn't be of more help."
"Not at all," I said. "Thank you."
I left his office and walked back to the cafe feeling defeated. If it was not Bianca, or Ben then who?
I fully wanted to support Jess in saying that it was not Jason, but as the local spray painter it was weird to not be drawn to him as a suspect.
Was my friendship clouding my judgement? Just because I knew in my gut that Joshua was completely innocent in the last case, should not interfere with the facts of this case.
If I was being honest with myself, it was the fact that it would be a strange coincidence to bring the family into two separate accusations that kept me from investigating Jason more.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Wednesday, April 15th
Aubrey was waiting for me in the front arm chairs. The moment I returned to the cafe she bounced up, with anticipation clear on her face. It was a tad perplexing that there was still no one here customer wise, but I assumed everyone who had swung by was there for a quick grab and go cup.
"So?" she asked. "Is it Ben? Can we be done with this?"
"Afraid not," I said, stepping behind the counter. "He's an accountant who wanted to be a painter, but his father talked him out of it."
"Aww, that's sad."
"I know," I said, pouring myself a cup from the French press. "But you can't tell a soul. He doesn't want the business community to know their accountant moonlights as a painter."
"What does he paint?" She followed my lead and refreshed her own cup.
We leaned back against the counter and had a moment of silence for our first sip. Coffee was totally my art and I could not imagine a life without it being my creative outlet.
"Fantastic landscapes actually."
"Oh! Like Jason then, but I'm assuming not space?"
"Yeah, they're mostly of the town, and with acrylic paint," I said. "But speaking of Jason. I know we don't want to believe it, but after the heart to heart with Ben, I realized that I am only ruling Jason out because of who he is to us."
"That is probably true," Aubrey said, her voice dropping.
"Yeah," I said, also in a melancholy tone.
Jason was a nice kid, but at this point, there was no one else in town that could have done it. He used spray paint, and the video showed a thin teen. Jason was most certainly a thin teen. All the evidence pointed to him. We had just been ignoring it.
"We should have him come in and watch the video feed of him doing it," I said. "He'll probably confess when he sees that they caught him on film."
"It wasn't that clear of a feed though," Aubrey said.
"Time for a little good cop, bad cop, then," I said giggling.
"Well, we know which one you'll be," she said and raised her eyebrows at me.
We laughed together, and I cackled like an
evil witch. There was no chance Aubrey could pull off bad cop, but yours truly was born for the role!
I only wished it was not Jason who had to be on the receiving end of the act. Especially after how much he had helped his family last month. Truth be told, I did not actually know the kid at all. Just hearsay through Jess. I would never grow accustomed to the idea of being in everyone's business. It was far too stressful to keep a level head when dealing with friends as suspects.
"Why me?" I transmitted to Azure.
He had been asleep when I left this morning. Staying out all night on patrol was not working out for him.
"Because your prickly, like a porcupine," he transmitted and I could hear the yawn inside my mind.
"What ever are you talking about?"
"I'm sleeping, you know."
"Did you see anything last night?"
"A beautiful moon, and deer."
"I mean, did you see the tagger?"
"Saw them and helped them with their latest art piece. It's dragon themed."
"A simple yes or no would have sufficed," I transmitted an eye roll.
"But then you wouldn't be smiling."
He was right. Sarcasm always put a smile on my face.
"There is one thing I want to check before we rule Ben out," I said to Aubrey.
"What's that?" she asked.
"I need to call Bianca and verify that Ben was at the mixer all night. He said he did not get home until after midnight."
"Why?"
"They tagged my wall the night of the mixer, and he claims all the artists were there."
"Oh, that makes sense! If they were all there, then we can rule out everyone on the list at once."
"Exactly. I realize the person could have done it after the mixer, but for Ben specifically, how would he function at work if he was up all night painting walls?"
The door chimed, and Tori walked in, with her hands full of baked goodies.
"Let me call her and ask, while you help Tori," Aubrey said.
"You're the best!"
I was not looking forward to talking to Bianca so soon after our confrontation.
Aubrey grabbed the phone and walked to the back as I rushed to drop the counter for Tori.
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