by Cassie Page
“Yes, Bailey got out a few days ago and ate something that didn’t agree with her.
The woman nuzzled the cat and said, “But she’s been inside since yesterday morning. I don’t think she’ll bother you anymore.”
“Oh, but she was out last night. My friend heard her.”
“It wasn’t Bailey. She was asleep on my bed all night. I’m making a point of keeping her inside now.”
Olivia was perplexed. “I guess someone else has a wandering cat. I’ve seen Bailey skulking in my garden, though. I’ll keep knocking and see if I can find her playmate.”
The woman volunteered, “Not on this block. I’ve met most of the neighbors. Bailey is the only cat on the street.”
“Odd,” Olivia said. “Thanks, and I hope Bailey feels better soon.”
Olivia reported back to Tuesday, who insisted she’d heard a cat. “I don’t think that Mom was telling you the truth. Probably didn’t want to get into trouble for letting her cat run loose.”
“What can I do?”
Olivia was feeling guilty that Tuesday was having trouble sleeping and that she had spent so little time with her.
“Want to go shopping for the rest of the afternoon? I’ll finish the party arrangements when we come back.”
Tuesday said, “Sure. This should be fun for Sylvester Stallone outside.”
Olivia giggled. “This guy kind of looks like him, doesn’t he?”
“No complaints here. Hubbahubba.com.”
Olivia and Tuesday lingered in the shops on Darling Boulevard, tempted by much but buying nothing, until they came to Xavier’s Gems. Tuesday was checking out the estate pieces in the window while Olivia drooled over a cocktail ring featuring a yellow diamond that cost more than her house. Tuesday, however, pointed to some garnet earrings and said they were in her price range and she was going inside to try them on.
“Okay, I’ll follow in a minute. I can’t get my eyes off this ring. Need another few seconds communing with it.”
She indicated to the guard that he should stay close to Tuesday. She felt guilty that her friend was in danger. But nothing was going to happen to either of them in broad daylight in front of a heavily secured jewelry story. She walked inside.
Xavier knew Olivia couldn’t afford the cocktail ring, but she was a friend and he let her try it on. As she was modeling it in front of a floor length mirror, her phone rang.
“Matt,” she said hurriedly, giving the ring back to Xavier. She went outside to answer the call. The security guard, momentarily confused, decided to leave Tuesday’s side and came outside and stood by Olivia. When the call was over, Olivia put the back of her hand to her forehead and sagged against the store window.
Tuesday saw she was visibly rattled, rushed to her side and led her back inside the store. They found two seats at a small round display table and Olivia sank down.
Tuesday leaned into her and took her hand. “What’s up, sugar?”
Olivia was breathing hard. “Matt gave me the preliminary coroner’s report on Ruth Marsh. She has the same puncture wound on her neck as Jed Fisher.”
Tuesday’s mouth dropped.
“Thinks they were killed by the same weapon.”
Olivia stared at her friend, speechless for a moment. Then she spoke over a lump in her throat.
“All the grief I gave that kid for being what, a twenty-one year old. Now he has to face this.”
Tuesday asked, “Doesn’t he know yet?”
“He doesn’t even know she’s missing. Detective Johnson checked at the B&B to question him but he had left, saying he would be in San Francisco for the afternoon. They serve dinner at the B&B and he made a reservation. He’ll be back at six.”
Tuesday slumped back in her chair. “I hope he’s having a good time, because buddy boy is in for a shock.”
Olivia stared at the gold bracelets arranged under the glass of the display table in front of her, not really seeing them. After a moment she looked up at Tuesday coldly. “Maybe not so much. Let’s get out of here, Tues.”
On the way home, Olivia talked out all the possible connections between Ruth Marsh and Jed Fisher. “Alistair is connected to this, Tuesday, I know he is. I just don’t know how, or, more important, why. From what I can figure out he has absolutely nothing to gain whether or not the museum project succeeds.”
Tuesday snapped her fingers. “Wait a minute. How about this? Suppose Alistair is the next victim? His sister is killed with the same weapon as Jed Fisher. Sonia gets attacked with a bat of some kind and so does Alistair. Suppose the killer comes after Alistair again, because he’s determined to get rid of him. Alistair and his sister must have some inside information. I don’t know what, but something.”
Olivia stopped at the light just before the turn on to her street.
“You know, girlfriend. You may be right. I need to call Matt and suggest he put a security watch on Alistair. No, wait. Charles’ security company is watching him. Let’s see if they can find out where he is?”
She called Charles to have him track down Alistair, but he still wasn’t answering. This wasn’t unusual. He spent a lot of time with elite car restorers.
12:2
Olivia spent the rest of the afternoon unwinding at her desk, checking the order sheets for the Fredericks’ party. A stack came from Angela’s rental company supplying the tent, tables, chairs and place settings. Hugo was providing hors d’ oeuvres, dinner and wine, while The Salted Caramel had hired a cake baker with her own TV show to create an extravaganza celebrating the Fredericks’ long marriage.
It was dinnertime when she raised her head from her computer. She noticed her fatigue once she quit working and dragged herself upstairs to find Tuesday watching a Fred Astaire movie and making notes about Rita Hayworth’s costumes.
Olivia flopped on the couch next to her. “Could you stand another Victor’s pizza? I’m too pooped to cook dinner.”
“How much time do I have to think about it? I’ll need about two seconds.”
Olivia laughed. “Margherita or pesto with clams?”
“How about a small one of each?”
“You got it, dear heart. And then I’m taking the rest of the night off.”
Olivia called in the order and, as it was late and would be dark by the time Pete arrived with the order, she flipped on the outside light. Last, she texted the security guard out front to let Pete into the house.
“Are there any chips left from lunch? Victor’s is having a busy night and it will be about fifty minutes.”
Tuesday set them up with the last of the guacamole and chips, and opened sparkling water when they both agreed they weren’t interested in wine. They watched Fred wooing Rita with the old songs in You Were Never Lovelier, humming along, swaying and messing up the words to Dearly Beloved.
Olivia leaned back and in an instant was dozing off when the doorbell rang. She jerked up, grabbed her wallet to give Pete a tip and skipped down the stairs, calling out, “Get some napkins, will you, Tues?”
She opened the back door but didn’t see Pete standing there, then opened the screen door and stepped into yard. The small light bulb threw faint light across the gravel into the shrubbery and flowers. Looking around, the yard seemed to be empty, then she saw Pete off to the side, lying face down, the pizza box tossed askew.
“Oh, my god, Pete? Did you fall? Are you okay?”
But even as she rushed to Pete’s side, she knew something was wrong.
She yelled, “Tuesday, call . . . ,” then she heard a sound, looked up and saw the bat coming down at her. Before she could scream, she was unconscious.
Tuesday called down the stairwell, “Hey, Ollie, how long are you going to take? I’m weak with hunger.”
When there was no answer, she ran down the stairs and discovered Pete and Olivia unconscious just a few feet from each other. Shaking with fear, she looked around for the culprit, saw nobody and ran down the driveway screaming for the security guard. The guy looked up when he s
aw Tuesday with flailing arms racing across the street. He was out in a flash, gun drawn.
“It’s too late, bozo. They’ve already been attacked.”
The guy was on his phone calling for backup.
“I don’t know how anybody slipped by me. I’ve had my eyes on the house since you two went inside late this afternoon.”
Tuesday, trying to revive Olivia, pointed to the two victims and said, “Duh? Apparently not.”
“I vetted the delivery guy when he got out of his car. Miss Granville told me that he was coming.”
He spoke between calls to the paramedics and Detective Richards.
Tuesday knelt at Olivia’s side murmuring, “Baby girl, please wake up. Please.”
The guard hovered over Pete, who was not moving.
Mrs. Harmon, having heard Tuesday’s screams, was outside, pacing and fretting. Sirens announced the arrival of Matt and the paramedics.
The Fire Department’s rescue van transported Pete to the hospital over the hill in Mill Valley, followed by the paramedics with Olivia, who forewarned the ER that she would most likely need surgery due to loss of blood. Matt, breaking with protocol, allowed Tuesday to ride with him. Johnson stayed to tape off the area and, with the aid of floodlights, lead his team in searching for clues.
Cody and Charles arrived at the hospital soon after to find Matt and Tuesday awaiting news from the surgeon.
Charles said he was going to sue the security firm.
Cody stopped him as he ranted, angry and worried for both Pete and Olivia.
“Mr. Bacon. I know how the guy got in. There’s a hole in the back fence. It leads to the street behind Olivia’s house. I’ve used it many times when I couldn’t find a parking spot out front. I park in the alley and hop the fence. The guy must have cased her house and found it.”
Matt said, “We’ll check that out,” and immediately called Johnson to tell him to look for clues back there.
He paced and checked his phone obsessively for news from Johnson, from the other officers. “If the guy had showed up ten minutes later, Tuesday,” he said, “I’d have been there. I was on my way over to give you and Olivia some news. You’d both had a rough week and I wanted to see how you were holding up.”
Tuesday leaned forward. “So, tell me now. What have you found out since we last spoke?”
Charles and Cody gathered around to listen in. “Well, first of all, we’re trying to find Alistair Marsh. As far as we know, he doesn’t know about his sister’s drowning. We have some questions to ask about her involvement with the museum.”
He stopped to pull out his phone and show everyone the driver’s license photo sent by the police in Arizona.
Both Charles and Cody recognized him from the groundbreaking ceremony. Tuesday gasped. “That’s the guy from Paymoor’s!”
She grabbed Matt’s phone to get a closer look. “I don’t believe it. I ran into him the other day in the tea section. We got to talking and he asked me to give him a reading. So we went to The Salted Caramel for tea. Wow. Yep. That’s the guy. I told him he had trouble coming down the pike. I don’t think he believed me. What a coincidence.”
Matt said, “You’re sure? Did he say where he was going or what his plans were? When he was leaving town?”
“Leaving town? I thought he was a resident. He didn’t tell me he was visiting. When I told him I saw treachery in his cup, he bolted out of Paymoor’s.”
Matt continued, describing the aftermath of the discovery of Ruth Marsh’s body. “Because her death has been ruled a homicide, the Phoenix police were able to search her apartment. Apparently, she was a high school art teacher and did a lot of painting. She had pictures stacked up in a back bedroom. Odd though. Phoenix PD said they all look alike. I guess she was trying to perfect a technique or something. The place was full of paints, easels, art books. Not much else.”
It took Tuesday all of one nanosecond to put two and two together.
“A painter? Olivia was on to a possible art fraud. I wonder if any of those books were about the painter, oh, what was his name. Did she mention it to you Matt? Maybe you know who I mean.”
“No, I don’t know anything about art fraud.”
“How can we find out? If she has books by this guy maybe she was copying him. Let’s see, Pierre knows who it is.” She looked to Charles.
“What’s Pierre’s last name?”
Charles said, “Ballard. But I don’t know about any art fraud, either. She would have told me if I bought a bum picture.”
Tuesday shook her hands no. “It didn’t have anything to do with your museum. It was about another client. If you call Pierre he can tell you about it. His number would be in her phone. It’s on her coffee table. Can you ask Detective Johnson to look it up?”
Matt had his phone out again, but Charles stopped him.
“What’s up, Charles? Don’t you want to figure this out?”
Charles pulled out his own phone. “Pierre buys art for me. I got him on speed dial.”
12:3
Within twenty minutes various phone calls went back and forth between New York, the Phoenix PD and the hospital establishing that Ruth Marsh had many books by each of two artists. One of them was Sutcliffe.
Tuesday said, “Matt, I don’t have all this figured out, but Alistair is in on some art scam with his sister. Could he be fronting for Pierre? No, that doesn’t make sense. I don’t think Pierre is connected to this other client of Olivia’s. I think we have to wait until we can talk to Olivia and see if it makes sense. Or talk to Alistair. Has he come back from San Francisco, yet, Matt?”
“We were on our way to the B&B when you called. Apparently he hasn’t shown up yet. If we can’t find him, we’ll put out a BOLO.”
Tuesday tugged at her hair. “I warned Olivia this might happen. Whoever killed Jed and Ruth Marsh are after him, too. If I were you, I’d put a dragnet out for him. That guy’s not safe. I mean, I saw it plain as day in his tea leaves.”
Just then, the surgeon came into the waiting room, still wearing his surgical cap and booties.
Olivia’s posse rushed over with a chorus of “How is she?”
The surgeon held up his hand like a stop sign. “I need to speak to Miss Granville’s family first. Are any of you related?”
Tuesday said, “We’re all family. Tell us how she is.”
Grinning, the surgeon said, “In a word? Lucky. Very lucky. She was struck twice with a sharp, pointed object. One blow grazed her neck, the other left a puncture wound in her side. She bled a lot, nicking an artery, but luckily the paramedics did their job. Also, it missed her organs. We think she sustained a concussion when she fell. She has a contusion and some swelling on her head. It was important to stop the bleeding so we took her into the OR before doing a neurological workup. We’ll do a cat scan when she wakes up. We can assess her cognitively at that point. She needs to rest, but assuming she doesn’t have a serious head wound, she’ll come out of this okay.”
Tuesday said, “And Pete? I don’t know his last name. The pizza guy.”
The surgeon nodded his head. “Another victim was brought in with Miss Granville, but we determined he didn’t need surgery. He has a nasty concussion and will have to stay quiet at home for a week or so. He may already have been released from the ER.”
Sighs of relief lightened the room. Matt said, “When can we see her?”
“She’s in the recovery room. She’s coming around. We want to watch her for a bit. I don’t have to tell you that in addition to her physical wounds, this was pretty traumatic. You can see her in a little while, but keep the conversation light. Save any interrogations for tomorrow.”
They tiptoed into Olivia’s room an hour later with instructions from the nurse to stay ten minutes only, but Olivia shocked them. She was sitting up checking her neck in the mirror in her bedside table.
When she saw them, she said, “If I have any scars I am going to pummel whoever did this to me!”
Tuesday kis
sed her forehead tenderly. “Take a number, baby girl. We’re all ahead of you.”
Matt said, “What are you doing sitting up? How are you feeling?”
Olivia pointed to her IV. “If I feel a twinge of pain, I just push a button and I feel good again. I mean, really good.”
Matt laughed. “You’re stoned. You’re totally out of it.”
Olivia gave them all a silly grin. “Yup,” she said woozily. She closed the mirror and pushed the table away. “Now, who did this to me?”
Cody greeted her next, surprising them both by kissing her hand. “No, no, no. My lady musteth noteth asketh questions. Or thy surgeon will put us on the racketh if we do. You have to rest, O.”
Olivia shooed him away. “Don’t give me that. I don’t care what drugs they give me, I won’t sleep tonight until I know who to go after when I get out of here.”
Matt was on one side of her bed holding her hand. “If you promise not to rat us out, I’ll give you the short version.”
Olivia listened intently to the data Matt and Tuesday had put together, disappointed that there was no news on the identity of her attacker. When they got to explaining Ruth Marsh’s connection to the artist and her identity as the art forger, she said, “You’ve got to find Alistair. He has the key to this puzzle. Unless Scott does. No word from him?”
Matt shook his head.
Tuesday had a thought. “Ollie, babe. Remember that guy I met in Paymoor’s? I did a reading for him.”
“Yeah. You said you saw him on Darling Boulevard in someone’s car.”
“Well it turns out, it was Alistair. I never got his name, but Matt showed us a picture of him. How’s that for a coincidence? He said he was doing some work for a painter. That’s how I met him. He was looking for a tea his painter friend used as a pigment. Garden Vale’s Blue Dahlia. Maybe the painter was his sister and he knew what she was up to.”
