African Violet Club Mystery Collection

by Elise M Stone

  But she didn’t pay much attention since she could overhear the voices coming from the front of the gallery.

  “I’d like to buy the picture of the cowgirl,” MacAlastair said.

  “You do realize that’s a print?” the gallery owner asked. “The original oil was sold years ago. The artist had a limited print run made for those who want a copy. I’d be happy to sell you one of those, if you’d like.”

  “I would.”

  Lilliana noticed he didn’t ask the price. Limited edition prints could be expensive. Was he wealthy? That would be a change from most of the residents of the retirement community.

  “Would you like it matted? I can do that for you while you wait.”

  There was a small pause in the conversation. Lilliana assumed he was deciding about adding the extra cost. Perhaps he wasn’t wealthy after all. She studied the picture in front of her. This one was an original oil, and the price tag beside it seemed to confirm her suspicions about the cost of the print. A cowboy was roping a steer at La Fiesta de los Vaqueros, the annual rodeo in Tucson. You could see the tension in his thighs and arms as he pulled back on the rope. A cowboy hat shaded his face, adding an interesting contrast to the lower half lit by the sun.

  “I think I would like the matting,” MacAlistair said, “if it won’t take too long.”

  “I can get that done for you in a jiffy. Will that be cash or credit?”

  There was no verbal answer to that question, and Lilliana could visualize him handing the gallery owner his credit card. She doubted if anyone, even a wealthy person, would carry enough cash to pay for a limited edition print.

  She moved on to the next painting, which looked like a battle scene between cowboys and Indians. Lilliana thought the Indians must be Apaches, and the battle somewhere more to the north since the Indians of southern Arizona tended to be peaceful. But it probably sold well to tourists who didn’t know the area.

  “A little violent for my taste.”

  Lilliana started. She hadn’t heard him come back into the room. “I’m sure it’s popular, though. People do like cowboys and Indians.”

  “I suppose they do,” MacAlistair said. “I prefer cowgirls.” He gestured toward a picture on the end wall.

  “Oh,” Lilliana said. “That’s the picture that was on the front page of the Rainbow Ranch Gazette.”

  MacAlistair looked questioningly at her, indicating he hadn’t seen the paper.

  “The barrel racer is Fox Fordyce, a local resident who just moved back to town. Sam Horn—he’s the editor of the Gazette—did a full page story on her. Apparently she was quite famous in her day.” After not being able to think of anything to say, Lilliana wondered if she was now babbling.

  “Verry interesting. And how would you know all of that?”

  “I met her in town. She was shopping at Pulaski’s Gourmet Grocery when I was there.” She paused for breath. “Have you been to Pulaski’s?”

  “Not as of yet. Do you happen to know if they carry haggis?”

  It took a minute for Lilliana to realize he was joking. She liked the way his eyes crinkled up when he smiled. From what she’d heard, haggis was an acquired taste. “You could ask. I know Jaclyn does order some foods from Scotland.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “In that case, I’ll definitely have to have a look.”

  And now Lilliana had run out of words again. She’d move on to another painting, but she didn’t want MacAlistair to think she was walking away from him. Fortunately, he rescued her.

  “Have you seen the bull rider yet?” He gestured toward the opposite wall.

  “No, I haven’t.” Lilliana followed his gesture and saw another picture from the rodeo. She stepped closer, the better to be able to examine it.

  MacAlistair followed her. She could feel his presence just behind her. His voice was intimate as he spoke. “I’ve always liked stories of the American west.”

  “Is that why you came to Arizona?” she asked. Her voice sounded breathless, even to her.

  “That’s part of it.”

  He didn’t appear inclined to elaborate, and Lilliana didn’t want to pry. “These paintings really are quite good. I couldn’t help but overhear you buying the print.”

  MacAlistair nodded. “I can use a little decorating in my casita. I think that’s what the woman who rented it called it, a casita. Is that right?”

  Lilliana nodded. She’d been correct in her assumption about his finances. The casitas were townhouses, more expensive than the apartments at Rainbow Ranch.

  “What brought you to Arizona?” he asked.

  “How did you know I wasn’t born here?” She’d stopped looking at the paintings and was looking at him.

  His eyes gazed back at her, focused on her in a way that seemed to look inside her soul. “Your accent. You sound more like New England than California.”

  “I thought I’d lost most of my Boston accent years ago. I’ve been in Arizona for over thirty years.” She pulled away from that gaze and wondered why she hadn’t said “we” or “Charles.” Most of the time, she still included her husband in conversations about the past, even though he’d been gone for over a year.

  “Not entirely.”

  The gallery owner stepped into the room. “Your print is ready, Mr. MacAlistair.”

  Lilliana assumed he’d go right up front to pick it up, but instead he said, “I’ll be there in a minute or two.”

  His voice drew Lilliana’s eyes back to his face. “Are you ready to leave, or would you like to spend some more time here?”

  Her heartbeat quickened. “I think I’ve seen enough.”

  As the gallery owner handed over the package wrapped in brown paper and string to MacAlistair, Lilliana said wistfully, “I wish I could afford one of these paintings for my apartment.”

  “You can,” the gallery owner said. “Although it will be a bit smaller.” She reached toward the shelf behind her and pulled a calendar off the stack sitting there. “We have calendars made up of Mr. Henderson’s work. There are twelve of his paintings, including two that aren’t on display here.”

  “How much?” Lilliana asked, always mindful of her expenses.

  “Fifteen dollars.”

  When she hesitated, MacAlistair said, “I’d be happy to buy one for you.”

  “Oh, no, that’s not necessary,” she hurried to say. She opened her purse and fished out her wallet. “I’ll take one.”

  “Are you hungry, Lilliana?” MacAlistair asked as they emerged onto Fifth Street.

  “I’m going to eat in the dining room when we get back, Mr. MacAlistair.” Which she had planned on doing, but if there had been any doubt, his invitation had cemented her decision. After his offer to buy the calendar for her, she was afraid he would attempt to buy her lunch. She wasn’t sure she wanted to start down that path.

  “Christopher.”

  “What?” Preoccupied with her own thoughts, she wasn’t quite sure what he was referring to.

  “You called me ‘Mr. MacAlistair.’ There’s surely no need to be so formal. Call me Christopher.”

  “Oh, of course... Christopher.” She kept her eyes on the sidewalk.

  “Unfortunately, my appetite is demanding I eat sooner than that,” Christopher said. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Yes, of course,” Lilliana said. She watched as he headed off at a brisk pace toward Fourth Street. Was he escaping her? Did he feel insulted that she’d turned down his invitation to lunch? She hoped not. It wasn’t personal. Well, maybe it was. She wasn’t sure she was ready for a new relationship yet. Or maybe she was jumping to conclusions.

  She made her way to the Visitor Center and browsed the rack of brochures and the small display of merchandise for sale, most of which featured a bat with outstretched wings. When she inquired as to the reason, she was told it was because of Kartchner Caverns, which, for a large part of the year, served as a home and nursery to a colony of bats. She was glad the cave in Rainbow Ranch didn’t have bats. At
least, she’d never seen one there.

  After a while, she found a bench to sit on and took her book out of her purse. She was currently reading one of the Lucas Davenport novels by John Sanford.

  She heard the van pull up outside and gathered her things. Mr. MacAlistair—Christopher—was mounting the steps as she emerged from the Visitor Center. She followed him and paused at the front of the van. Nancy had taken a seat in the last row and looked grumpy when Christopher sat in the one opposite her instead of beside her. Lilliana decided to take the safe path and joined Rebecca again.

  She and Christopher had been the last ones to board, the others apparently having spent their morning at the Walmart store. Rebecca had a large plastic bag wedged between her knees and the seat in front of her. Once Lilliana was seated, Raul put the van in gear and headed back toward the highway.

  “Did you buy anything?” Rebecca asked.

  “Why, yes, I did.” Lilliana held up her shopping bag before resting it in her lap.

  “Anything interesting?”

  The woman was certainly nosy, but Lilliana didn’t really mind sharing her visit to the art gallery with her. “As a matter of fact, I found this lovely little art gallery on Fifth Street with an exhibit by a local artist. The prints were rather expensive, but I was able to buy this.” She pulled the calendar out of its bag and showed it to Rebecca.

  “Hmmph.” Rebecca pursed her lips and frowned.

  “Don’t you like rodeo pictures?” Lilliana asked.

  “Rodeos are fine. I don’t much like the fact that Fox Fordyce has caused such a stir.”

  “Why not?” Lilliana thought it was exciting that the rodeo queen was living in Rainbow Ranch again. She might add some life to the town. And she might be a potential friend as well. At least she was active, not sitting around the pool or the dining room at the retirement home.

  “I liked Rainbow Ranch when it was quiet. Now everyone’s making such a fuss over that woman. Pretty soon there’ll be those TV people from Tucson coming out again. And tourists. Somebody’ll probably set up a tour that goes by her house. I don’t like all that busyness.”

  Lilliana doubted it would be quite as bad as Rebecca seemed to think. Yes, Fox Fordyce was a local celebrity and would draw some attention for a while, but she couldn’t imagine it would be ongoing.

  Rebecca leaned over and lowered her voice. “I even hear she’s going to start up some kind of Wild West Show, some kind of fundraiser or something.”

  “Oh?” That was surprising news. Neither Fox nor Jaclyn had said anything about that when she’d seen them. “Where would she do that?”

  Lilliana didn’t know of any suitable place in town. The retirement community had been built on the grounds of the nearest ranch, and the town was too small to have any kind of arena or fairgrounds.

  “I’ve heard talk she’s going to do it at her old ranch. ’Course, she doesn’t own it any more. It belongs to the bank from what I heard. But she wants to lease it for some kind of annual event.”

  “Where did you hear all that?” Lilliana, never one to gossip, wasn’t plugged in to the local news network. She did read the Rainbow Ranch Gazette each week, but Sam Horn hadn’t reported on anything like that. Then she remembered she still hadn’t read the latest issue, the one with the photo of Fox Fordyce on the front page. That would have to be one of her priorities when she got back to her apartment.

  Meanwhile, Rebecca had pulled her own Walmart bag from the floor and started to open it, obviously hinting that she wanted to show off what she’d bought.

  “Did you have a successful shopping day?”

  Rebecca launched into an endless tale of her search for a dress to wear, how she tried on every dress in her size in the store, and then... Lilliana tuned her out and wished for a speedy return to Rainbow Ranch.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE next morning Lilliana was up and out early, determined to keep her promise to visit Esmeralda. The sun had barely risen, but by the time she reached the secret path, it should be light enough for her to find her way to the cave.

  Birdsong filled the air as the other winged creatures in Rainbow Ranch greeted the new day. At the sound of her footsteps, a jackrabbit looked up from the lawn where he was feeding and hopped away. Lilliana was sorry to be an intruder on his breakfast.

  It was a beautiful morning, still a little warm, but the air would be cooler once she got to the higher elevation of the cave entrance. She crossed the grounds between the main building and the casitas and cut off to the north to circle the end of the row of townhouses. As she got closer to the entrance of the last one, she heard the notes of a piano. Someone must have their radio turned up loud.

  But as she rounded the building, the strains of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata wafted from the open sliding door of the patio, and she realized it wasn’t a radio playing. It was a real person. She stood, transfixed by the music. What talented resident of the retirement community lived here? Whoever it was, she vowed she would get to know her. Or him.

  Lilliana wasn’t really a snob, but so many of the residents were content with game shows or soap operas or gossiping about the other residents when they weren’t reminiscing about days long gone. Lilliana herself still looked to the future, to the possibilities that life might hold for her. She read, she enjoyed seeing Shakespeare’s plays, listening to classical music, and keeping up with new discoveries in science. She imagined someone who could play like this person would have similar eclectic tastes and would be interesting to talk to.

  She was still standing there, not realizing the music had ended, when the screen door slid open with a squeak, and a man stepped out onto the patio. Not just a man. Christopher.

  He saw her and smiled. “Good morning, Lilliana.”

  Slightly embarrassed at having been caught out, she felt the heat rise in her cheeks and had to fight to keep from averting her eyes. “Good morning, Christopher. I didn’t realize you played the piano. You’re very good.”

  “Thank you. I’m not as good as I once was, but I hope to practice more often now that I have a somewhat private residence.”

  The two of them stood there, the day brightening, the birds singing, and a soft breeze with a hint of monsoon moisture caressing their skin and ruffling their hair. It was odd to see Christopher’s hair fluttering in the breeze. He was the kind of man who was always well-groomed and carefully dressed. Even though he wore casual clothes—a sport shirt, slacks, and loafers—he still was more elegant than any other man in Rainbow Ranch.

  “Would you like to come in?” he asked. “I have a fresh pot of coffee made.”

  “Thank you, I would.” Lilliana didn’t mention her beverage of choice was tea. She drank coffee on occasion, but generally found it bitter. But for some reason, she didn’t want to risk any impediment to this invitation.

  Christopher opened the screen and waited for her to arrive on his patio. She entered, and he followed behind, so close she could smell the scent of his body, the perfume from whatever laundry detergent he used, the soap he’d recently showered with.

  She suddenly realized she herself was dressed in worn jeans, her hiking boots, and a stained tee shirt. There’d been no point to putting on good clothes when she was going to have to crawl through mud to get inside the cave. She wondered that Christopher had invited her in looking like this.

  A baby grand piano took up most of the corner of the living room to her right. “If music be the food of love, play on.” Now where did that come from? Well, Twelfth Night, of course, but why had she thought of that quote now?

  A comfy-looking leather recliner sat beside the piano, a floor lamp next to the chair providing light for reading. On the opposite wall, a fine mahogany cabinet holding a stereo system—including a turntable—was positioned slightly off-center. And over the cabinet was the print of Fox Fordyce Christopher had purchased yesterday, framed in a dark wood to match the cabinet. Lilliana could only assume he’d had the frame available. She couldn’t help but w
onder what it had held before.

  “It’s not much, but it’s home,” Christopher said. “How do you take your coffee?” He strode past her toward the kitchen, which was visible over the half wall separating it from the combination living-dining area.

  “Milk and sugar,” Lilliana said. “Light,” she added, remembering the bitterness. She took a seat at the small table in the dining area.

  Christopher busied himself with filling two mugs—matching, of course—and brought them to the table. “Let me know if you need more milk or sugar.”

  She took a sip and was surprised at how good the brew tasted. “This is fine.”

  She noticed Christopher took his black, or, at least, without milk. She hadn’t seen whether he put sugar in his cup or not.

  “This is a two-bedroom unit, isn’t it?” Lilliana said.

  Christopher nodded. “I wanted some room after living in small spaces for the past few years. Room not just for me, but for all my things I put in storage.” He glanced at the piano. “And I wanted to be able to put some distance between my music and my neighbors.”

  “Where did you live before?” Lilliana wondered about the small spaces. Had he lived in a studio apartment? Where?

  “Various places,” he answered vaguely. “After I retired, I decided I wanted to see more of the world. I’d seen Europe, of course, but not much farther than that. I took a trip through Egypt, spent some time in India, and lived in Australia for a couple of years after a brief stop in Japan. I haven’t really settled down yet.” He smiled.

  The smile didn’t stop the pang in Lilliana’s chest at the thought he might leave Rainbow Ranch before she’d gotten to know him. “So you don’t plan on staying?”

  He picked up his mug and paused it in front of his lips before finally taking a sip and methodically putting it back on the raffia placemat in front of him. “That all depends.”

  Lilliana took another sip of her own coffee. It was almost half gone, and she was thinking she might have to change her opinion on coffee. “Depends on what?” She could feel the fear and anticipation of the answer in the beating of her heart.