Yesterday's Shadow: A Lacey Summers Mystery

by Curry, Edna

  “Hurry up,” he said impatiently, picking up their coffee cups and setting them in the sink. “Did you feed Scamp?”

  “Not yet,” she called over her shoulder as she dashed up the stairs to her bedroom.

  “I’ll do it.”

  “There are cans of dog food to the left below the sink,” she called back.

  How thoughtful. We’re beginning to sound like an old married couple, delegating household chores. Watch out, girl. You were badly burned the last time. Don’t you know enough to stay away from the flames, now?

  She found a smart pantsuit and got into it. She would need something good-looking to bolster her ego if she was to spend the afternoon with Kate. She carefully washed her face, applied makeup and went downstairs.

  A half an hour later they were in Henry’s office, staring at the letters on the computer screen, puzzled looks on their faces.

  “I don’t see anything unusual in these,” she frowned. “They’re just old lists of his sales of various paintings and prints. They’re not even up to date.”

  “But it’s his most recent CD on paintings and lithographs, including those of The Lone Wolf, the one that is missing from both your apartment and Henry’s shop.”

  “Yes,” Lacey frowned.

  “He labeled it ‘April’. Even if it contains some old information, it must also have incorporated his last changes for some reason. How odd! Why was he reworking these lists?” Mark asked, half to himself, a thoughtful frown on his face.

  “Some of them are years old, some are more recent. I don’t see any special reason that anyone would want to destroy them.”

  “Neither do I. Maybe it will mean something to Ben.”

  “Yes.”

  “Print out a copy, I’ll call him. In fact, while you’re at it, make three copies, one for each of us. Maybe if we think about it, something will make sense later.”

  She nodded. “Good idea. In any case, if someone wanted to hide that information, I had better make sure there is more than one copy to make sure he doesn’t succeed if he tries again.”

  “If he thought it important, just maybe one of those names or dates is incriminating in some way.”

  “But if the killer’s name is on the list of people who bought the paintings, he would have already had the painting. You don’t need to steal something you already have. And then he would want to preserve Henry’s record of his purchase to prove he had gotten his copy legally; that it wasn’t the copy stolen the night of the murder.”

  “True,” Mark frowned. “None of this makes sense.”

  Lacey sighed and started the printer singing while Mark went to the front of the shop where it was quiet to phone Ben. As the printer ran, she picked up the sheet of paper and read and reread the names on it. She knew most of the people on it. Some were other dealers, some were people who lived here in town, including herself and Kate.

  Nor did the names of the paintings or prints seem important, since none of them were particularly rare or valuable. There seemed no connection at all, other than the fact that one of the lists concerned the various copies of The Lone Wolf painting that Henry had bought and sold over the years.

  That had to be important, since it was also the print stolen from the shop the night of the murder. But who wanted it and why?

  As the printer spun out the next page, she noted that it was a repeat of the section about the various copies of the Lone Wolf painting Henry had bought or sold over the years, with the exception that this copy had a space after each entry with Henry’s comments. After one he had written, “given to Kate for Christmas,” and after another, was her own name, with the date of her birthday two years ago.

  She remembered then, the miniature print he had given her just before the breakup of her marriage. It was beautifully framed in gold, a little copy, in good condition, and Henry had laughingly told her it would remind her of him, since he seldom saw her now that she was married.

  What had she done with it? She frowned. Oh yes, she had put it in the bottom drawer of her old jewelry box, the one with the broken lid. It was probably still packed away at the cabin, where she had left the few remains of her own short-lived home when she went off to college.

  She had seldom seen Henry while she was married because Henry and her young husband had not seen eye to eye on things, so it had seemed easier at the time to stay apart. Now she realized that part of Henry’s antagonism to Arthur had been his knowledge of Arthur’s unfaithfulness. Henry had been very loyal to her and couldn’t stand the idea of anyone else hurting her. Still, he hadn’t told her directly, he had waited for her to work things out in her own way. Although he had made sure she knew he was there if she needed him, letting her stand alone when she could, or lean if she wanted to. How she would miss him!

  “A penny for your thoughts,” Mark said gently, bringing her out of her reverie. She hadn’t heard him return.

  She laughed self-consciously. “They’re not worth it.” She flipped the paper out of the printer and read it again, with Mark reading over her shoulder. He was once more disturbingly close to her as he reached over and picked up two of the copies.

  “He does seem to be giving a lot of attention to that one print, The Lone Wolf, doesn’t he? It has to mean something.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “But what? Could one of those pictures have been the original painting? But it seems impossible. I’m almost positive that they were all just cheap copies. Some of them weren’t even in very good shape. The frames were old and some of the prints had been stored in attics for years before someone put them on a house auction or rummage sale. Some even came from flea market tables.”

  “The whole thing is crazy. But I know there’s an answer here if we can just see it. A key to the whole mystery.”

  She nodded bitterly. “Something worth killing for.”

  “That last list looks as though he were just thinking on the keyboard, trying to remember something, doesn’t it?” Mark said thoughtfully.

  “Yes. Trying to sort out where the pictures had come from, and then where each had gone. I wonder why?”

  “For tax purposes, maybe?”

  “Not for those.” Lacey said with a laugh. “They weren’t expensive enough to bother keeping separate records on.”

  “Then what was Henry trying to do?”

  “I wish I knew. It might be important. Apparently the killer thought so, or he wouldn’t have bothered to erase it,” Lacey said.

  “Maybe sort out which paintings had been done by which artists? Why were two artists doing similar paintings by the same name anyway?”

  “Kowalski did the original, with the wolf facing left. Then after one of our presidents brought a copy back from Europe and it became popular in America, Charles Schenck copied it, but reversed the position of the wolf. His painting is supposed to be the female mate to Kowalski’s male wolf.”

  “I see. I think,” Mark said.

  Lacey picked a blank CD from a box of supplies, and made a copy. “I’m making a copy of this for myself, then we’d better give both this one and the erased CD to Ben for evidence.”

  “Too bad we handled them so much. He might have gotten some fingerprints from the erased one,” Mark commented.

  “Oh, dear, I never thought of that.”

  “Well, it’s too late now. Besides, how could we know which ones might be important until we had tried them?”

  “Right.”

  Lacey shut down the computer, then put the CD into a plastic case for safekeeping and put it in her purse. It was evidence she didn’t want to lose again.

  “Ben’s busy on another case,” Mark said. “I’ll drop off one of these printed copies and the CDs at his office. I have another meeting in town for lunch, then some errands in Rolling Hills. What time did you have to meet your mother?”

  “Not until two. But I’m supposed to lunch with Marion at twelve.” She consulted her watch. It read eleven-forty. With dismay, she realized she had been so excited about f
inding the CDs, that she had merely taken him along to town without thinking about their schedules for the rest of the day. “Oh, dear. We both came into town in my car, didn’t we?”

  “Yes. But don’t worry. I’ll catch a ride with someone out to my cabin to get my car. And I wanted to take you to dinner tonight.” He smiled at her questioningly.

  “Oh.” Lacey swallowed, then smiled back, a wave of excitement whirling through her at the prospect of spending the evening with him. “That would be nice. Well, I’m just going to be right here. Marion and I are lunching at the Flame, and Jerry’s house is only a couple of blocks from there. I can ride to the lawyer’s office with Mom. She never lets me drive. Thinks I’m still a little girl.” Lacey wrinkled her nose, annoyed anew at the thought. “So why don’t you use my car?” She dug the keys from her purse and handed them to him.

  “Fine, if you’re sure you don’t mind. Where shall I pick you up again? At Jerry’s house?”

  “I suppose. No, make it at Marion’s dress shop. I don’t have a thing to wear. Everything is in the cities. How about five?”

  “Typical woman. See you later then.” He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Mm, delicious.” He kissed her again, wrapping his arm tightly about her and pulling her body fully against his so that she could feel every curve fitting against hers. They fit nicely, she thought. His hand caressed her arm.

  “You have the softest skin, Lacey. Like white satin. I could spend all day exploring it.”

  “Marion will be waiting,” she said, suddenly nervous at his advance.

  “Yes, I suppose.” His eyes flashed darkly. This time she was sure it was with desire.

  “You here, Lacey?” a voice called from the front of the store.

  They pulled apart guiltily, and stepped out of the office to find Jake Garner there.

  “Oh, you’re here, too, Mark,” he said, eyeing them both suspiciously. His eyes darkened angrily as he took in her flushed face.

  She remembered that she had rebuffed him on more than one occasion. His anger now probably meant he was jealous of them being alone here together. As if she would be interested in him, even if he was rich and thought himself a prize catch. Her chin lifted in angry response.

  “Did you want something, Mr. Garner?” she asked coldly.

  “Just wanted to offer my services. Henry and I worked together a lot, you know. And as your daddy’s stepbrother, I feel obligated to help out. I thought you might want my help in deciding what to do with this stuff, you know, set up an auction on it or something.” Jake looked around him. “Or I could just buy the whole lot and sell it through my other stores, if you’d rather do it that way.”

  Lacey swallowed a sharp retort. She could almost see the dollar signs being placed on each item as his cold eyes raked the antique oak furniture, and scanned the pictures on the walls. She had a very unladylike urge to throw him out, then reminded herself he had been Henry’s friend, and also had a lot of knowledge about antiques. She or her mother might very well need his help to deal with all of this, and so she had better not make an enemy of him. She bit her tongue and said politely, “I’m afraid that’s a bit premature. The lawyer hasn’t even told us who Henry left it to, yet.”

  “Why, Henry left it all to you, of course.”

  Lacey gasped. “How do you know that?”

  “Henry told me himself. Said you were like a daughter to him. Didn’t have no other relatives but you and Kate, and he didn’t get along too good with her, you know.” He pulled his stocking cap off, rubbed his bald head, and then put the blue knitted cap back on self-consciously.

  She stared at him. Was he telling the truth, or just guessing? Well, she’d know soon enough. “I’m late for a lunch date,” she said, in a definitely dismissing tone. “I’ll let you know later if I need your help.”

  Marion was already at the Flame, seated at a small table towards the rear of the large dining room. As usual, she wore red, and her bright dress made her easy to spot. Sunshine streamed through the window onto the table, reflecting back at her from the cut red glass surface of the candle-holder in its center, a mute reminder of the restaurant’s name.

  Many people, half of whom were familiar to her, were already seated at small tables around the pleasant room. The soft rustle of various conversations mingled with the clink of silverware attempted to drown out the pleasant background music from ceiling speakers.

  Lacey smiled in greeting to several people as she made her way between the tables and sat down opposite Marion with a sigh. Sometimes knowing everyone was a burden.

  Today she would have given a lot to hide in the anonymity of the big city. Her face felt as though it would crack from trying to smile one more time. She knew that the bizarre circumstances of Henry’s death had made him and her family the town’s current conversation-piece. That was just one of the facts of small town life. So why was she letting it bother her so?

  Two cigarette butts in the ashtray in front of Marion attested to Lacey’s lateness. Nevertheless, Marion greeted her cheerfully as she flipped back her long black hair with a nervous gesture.

  “Sorry to be late. I was all set to come when Jake Garner stopped by the shop.” Lacey made a wry face. She didn’t have to explain her aversion to Jake to Marion.

  “Oh, oh. The vultures are closing in already, eh?” Marion commented, her overly wide, yet attractive smile splitting her thin face.

  “Yes. And Henry’s not even cold in his grave,” Lacey said bitterly.

  “Don’t let Jake bug you. His life just revolves around his antique stores. He wouldn’t think about your feelings.”

  “I know. I think he’s still determined to become a rich man off Grampa Bill’s land. Why did Grampa have to remarry, anyway?”

  “Why does anybody do anything? We do what seems best, at the time. Only sometimes it doesn’t turn out that way in the long run.”

  “I guess so. You can’t choose your relatives, even by marriage.” She picked up the menu in front of her. “What are you having?”

  “Just the taco salad.” Marion sighed. “I must watch my weight, you know.”

  “Your weight? You’re the thinnest woman I know.”

  “Only because I diet all the time. If I stop for one day, I gain pounds just like that.” Marion snapped her fingers dramatically.

  Lacey laughed, feeling tension drain away. Marion’s friendly nonsense could always relax her. Her company was just what Lacey needed today.

  “Maybe I’ll just have one too. I’ve got to save calories on lunch.” The waitress set a pot of coffee in front of them, wrote down their order and left again.

  “Mark’s taking me out for dinner tonight,” she confided as Marion raised one overly made-up eyebrow at her unusual remark.

  “Aha. I thought something might be going on there. I heard you two have been seen together at the shop.”

  “The town gossips have been talking, already? I’ve only seen him a couple of times in my life, for Pete’s sake.”

  “That’s enough around here, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose. Maybe we’d better drive somewhere else for dinner tonight.”

  Marion laughed indulgently at her frown. “Only if you tell me all about him. Is he as interesting as he looks?”

  “I don’t know much about him, yet. Suppose you tell me about him. Everyone here seems to know him well, while I just met him last Thursday.”

  “Really? Maybe you just never ran into him when you were out here. That’s what you get for being a stay-at-home, you know. He stayed with the Ronnings a couple of months last summer. They have a cabin on the other side of the lake from you, remember? An older couple, whose only daughter was killed in that three-car accident over by Renville last spring? I think he’s their nephew.”

  Lacey wrinkled her brow, trying to recall what she’d read in the local paper about that accident. “Vaguely. I’m sure I’ve heard Kate mention them. They are one of the couples in that crowd who give those fabulous
parties that the local society columnists are always writing about, aren’t they?”

  “Yes. Though I don’t think they gave any for a couple of years there. Anyway, Mark’s been spending a lot of time getting first hand stories of the past from old people around here for a local history book he’s working on. That’s how he started playing cards with these guys, to get them talking about ‘olden times,’ as they played.”

  “Sounds like a boring way to spend an evening, for a young person.” Lacey frowned, not sure she liked this new picture of her attractive professor.

  “Some of these guys have colorful stories of the past. Bloodthirsty Indian lore and old logging days tales, that sort of stuff.”

  “I see,” Lacey murmured.

  “There’s Mrs. Ronning now, with that table of people who are just leaving. Oh, oh, she’s coming over.” Lacey followed Marion’s eyes to a neatly coifed and expensively dressed white-haired lady striding toward their table. A matching string of pearls and earrings set off the striking blue dress she was wearing. But her warm smile and the twinkle in her bright blue eyes reminded Lacey immediately of Mark.

  “Marion, dear, how are you?” Her soft, cultured voice was slightly rough, showing her age, but the tone was kind.

  “Fine, Mrs. Ronning. This is Lacey Summers, Henry’s niece.”

  “How nice to meet you, Lacey. Mrs. Landell told me who you were, and since I know Kate, I just had to come over to express my sympathies.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Ronning. I’m sure I’ve heard Kate rave about how much she enjoyed your lovely parties.”

  “Speaking of parties, I’m giving one this Saturday evening. It’s just a little buffet supper, perhaps you two would like to come? Bring a date if you wish.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Ronning, we’d love to,” Marion said firmly before Lacey could voice the refusal she had been about to utter.

  “Kate may be coming too. I spoke to her in Macy’s in the Ridgedale shopping center on Friday. It was such a surprise to see her. I didn’t know she was home. But then, I shouldn’t be amazed; I run into someone I know every time I go shopping there.”