Stroke of Death

by Agatha Frost

  “Of course,” Simon whispered, planting his hand on Liz’s shoulder. “And a tumble dryer. Just say yes, Liz.”

  “But I have Paddy.”

  “And I live on a farm,” he replied with a laugh. “Ellie will love having him around. You know how my little sister loves that dog. It might even be fun to see each other every day. Just nod your head. Give in!”

  Before Liz realised what she was doing, she nodded her head. She was not sure if it was the promise of clean clothes or the offer of spending more time with Simon that persuaded her, but she felt sudden and unexpected relief about not having to endure another night sleeping in what felt like a bonfire.

  “That’s sorted then,” Simon said before giving her another peck on the cheek. “I’ll call my mum now. She’ll do a backflip. I think she loves you more than she loves me.”

  Liz scooped up another appetiser before Simon weaved his way through the crowd with a spring in his step. Liz had spent a lot of time at the farmhouse over the last couple of months. She preferred being with Simon there rather than her small flat. She loved the wide-open spaces and beautiful views, which stretched all the way to the water’s horizon. Simon’s parents, Sandra and John, were the loveliest people Liz was sure she had ever met. They were traditional farmers down to the core. They had embraced and encouraged Liz and Simon’s relationship from the start. Liz also enjoyed the company of Simon’s seven-year-old sister, Ellie, with whom she had bonded. She was vivacious and funny, with unexpected emotional intelligence for someone so young. Liz chewed another nibble as she stared at Lewis’ face.

  “Who would have thought I would end up here, eh?” she whispered with a soft chuckle. “I hope you can see me wherever you are.”

  Leaving her painting behind, Liz turned and looked around the crowd for some of her art group. She spotted Poppy and Sylvia chatting animatedly in a corner, but the rest, including Nancy, had vanished. Popping the last nibble into her mouth, she turned to find her group again. She stopped and almost choked on the small piece of cheese when she spotted a tall, slender woman standing in the doorway, a black suitcase next to her. Liz forced the cheese out of her throat, her cough sending a shudder of silence across the gallery as everyone else noticed the arrival of the woman.

  “It looks like I returned just at the right time,” Katelyn Monroe shrieked, her crystal blue eyes bulging out from her tanned face. “What on Earth is going on in here?”

  3

  The gallery manager took a step forward, leaving her suitcase in the doorway. Everyone stepped back as though a hungry lion had wandered into the gallery. Katelyn looked around the room, her icy gaze landing on the wall of local art. Her eyes popped even further out of her face, her lips disappearing into a tight line. Catherine hurried into the gallery behind her, almost tripping over the suitcase.

  “Katelyn!” she cried, trying to inject lightness into her shaky voice. “You’re back a week early. Aren’t you a lovely colour? How was Australia? I hear it’s lovely this time of –”

  “What is going on?” Katelyn’s refined voice repeated, her eyes homing in on Catherine. “What is that ghastly flower mess doing in the Turner spot?”

  “Ghastly?” Debbie cried, dumping her champagne flute on a waiter's tray after emerging from the crowd. “How dare you, you little –”

  “It’s a temporary exhibit,” Catherine said as she grovelled at Katelyn’s side. “It was all Nancy’s idea. She did this! It was going to be back to normal before you returned. I swear!”

  “I left you in charge, Catherine!” Katelyn cried, her eyes widening as she took in the unusual paintings on the wall. “I cannot bring myself to look at them. They’re hideous. You know how I feel about modern art.”

  “I know, Katelyn,” Catherine said, almost begging for forgiveness by her boss’s side. “I’m sorry. Let me fix this.”

  “Get them off the wall,” Katelyn ordered, a hysterical shake in her low voice. “Right now!”

  Nancy walked into the gallery room, followed by Lance. Nancy looked terrified when she spotted Katelyn in the middle of the silent gallery. Lance seemed amused by the manager’s untimely arrival. Liz caught Nancy’s gaze and mouthed ‘sorry’, hoping it would ease the fear in her friend’s eyes; it did not.

  “I said now!” Katelyn shrieked.

  Catherine scurried forward, cramming her glasses on the end of her nose. She pushed through the crowd as if it was not there, her only thought to fulfil Katelyn’s demand.

  Firstly, she took down her own watercolour painting of the harbour, then Trevor’s gothic interpretation of Scarlet Cove Castle. It shocked Liz that Catherine had bent to Katelyn’s will so easily, especially since she was so defiant and unapologetic when it came to her own opinions.

  “People are enjoying the exhibit,” Nancy mumbled as she fiddled with her glasses, her fear of Katelyn muffling her usually loud voice. “It’s something different.”

  “I don’t want different,” Katelyn snapped, the suggestion turning her tanned cheeks red. “This is a classic art gallery. We display real art, not this nonsense.”

  “It’s not all about you, Katelyn,” Debbie cried, stepping forward so that they were face to face. The manager’s slender frame made Debbie look like a stout hobbit. “You’ve always been the same way. You should never have got this job.”

  “And you should?” Katelyn snarled back with a smirk. “Get out of my sight, Debbie Downer. Go and throw some paint on a canvas and call it ‘art’.”

  Liz thought she might have to pull Debbie off Katelyn, but the insult seemed too much for her. She ran to the door, her excessive jewellery clattering in the awkward silence.

  “Give it a rest, Katelyn,” Lance said, his voice deepening as he rubbed the lines on his forehead. “Look around. People were enjoying themselves.”

  “This is a place to respect and admire art,” Katelyn snapped, barely looking in Lance’s direction. “If you all want a party, go to that gaudy cabaret bar and congratulate each other for picking up a paintbrush there.”

  Liz opened her mouth to defend what they were doing, but no words came out. She looked around the full gallery, and she noticed others doing the same. Katelyn’s presence was so strong, it filled every corner of the room, sucking out the oxygen in the process. Only a brave few seemed able to challenge her. Liz's blank mind and frozen tongue stopped her.

  After struggling with Debbie’s large piece, Catherine moved onto Liz’s painting. She huffed and puffed as she tried to remove the artwork, but ‘Lovers Lost’ did not budge. Liz wanted to call out to demand she be careful with the work, but the words would not come.

  “It’s stuck,” Catherine said meekly when she noticed Katelyn staring at her. “It’s jammed on something.”

  Katelyn pushed through the crowd, shouldering Liz in the chest as she passed. She shoved Catherine out of the way and stared at the painting with disdain before prying her fingers behind the frame. She wriggled it, the wood bending this way and that. When it finally came free, it did so with consequence. The splitting rip of canvas echoed around the room, followed by a shudder of gasps and mumbling. Katelyn tossed the ripped art onto the floor as though she was discarding a banana skin. She dusted off her hands, pleased with herself. She scanned the gallery as though daring anyone to challenge her. Her eyes landed on Liz for a moment, making her wonder if she knew it was her art.

  “I’m going to my office to see what other messes you’ve caused,” she said through gritted teeth to Catherine. “When I come out, I want everything back to how it was. Do you understand me?”

  Catherine nodded like a naughty schoolchild, despite being twenty-years Katelyn’s senior. Liz could feel Catherine’s embarrassment as they watched the maniacal manager storm through the crowd. She grabbed her suitcase and vanished. Liz turned to Catherine, sure she was holding back tears behind her glasses. Seconds later, she scurried to a door on the far side of the gallery.

  “Oh, Liz,” Nancy whispered, gripping her hand as the crow
d made their way towards the door. “I’m sorry.”

  Liz stepped towards the canvas on the floor, a jagged slash cutting down the middle of Lewis’ face. She knew it would be irreparable. She looked up at the wall and spotted the culprit: a stray bent hook. Liz forced her breathing to slow down, pushing forward a strained smile after a heavy blink.

  “It’s only a painting,” she said firmly, despite the ache in her chest. “I can paint another one.”

  Nancy squeezed hard, not knowing what to say. As the gallery emptied, Simon forced his way back through with a fresh tray of appetisers. He scanned the gallery with a confused look before catching Liz’s eyes.

  “What have I missed?” he asked, ditching the tray on one of the wooden benches in the middle of the room. “Why are all the paintings on the – Oh, Liz! What happened to it?”

  “Katelyn happened,” Nancy said tightly. “I need to go and make sure I’ve still got a job to come back to tomorrow.”

  Nancy plodded off, her head low. By the time she reached the door, Liz and Simon were alone in the gallery. Thanks to the now empty wall, the abandoned room seemed double the size. She looked at the paintings on the floor, dancing past her own; she could not bring herself to look at it again.

  “Katelyn did that?” Simon asked, casting a finger to the painting. “Who does she think she is?”

  “The manager,” Liz said with a sarcastic laugh. “As first exhibits go, it was certainly eventful. I hope the local paper reviews it favourably.”

  Simon pulled her over to the bench where they sat on either side of the tray of cheese nibbles. Liz tossed one into her mouth as she looked around the empty gallery. One of her lifelong dreams had come true and had been shattered in front of her eyes within the same hour.

  “How are you so relaxed right now?” Simon asked, his hand wrapping around Liz’s. “I didn’t even paint it, and I’m fuming.”

  “There’s no point crying over a ripped painting,” Liz said calmly. “That’s how the saying goes, isn’t it?”

  “She can’t get away with this!”

  “She has.”

  “Report her,” Simon said, suddenly sitting up straight. “Call the police and tell them she vandalised your property.”

  Liz considered the proposition for a moment. She still had enough contacts in the police to make Katelyn’s life uncomfortable for a couple of weeks, even if she knew it would never lead anywhere. Even if they could bring about charges, which would never happen, it would not un-rip the painting. Despite telling Nancy she could paint another one, she knew she would never try.

  “It’s just a silly picture,” Liz said firmly. “There are more important things in the world. How did your parents take the news?”

  Simon pursed his lips, but he did not challenge Liz, something he had learned would not lead anywhere. Years of being a detective had given her a skill for avoiding questions when she wanted to. She had witnessed enough slimy criminals doing the same in interviews.

  “They’re more than happy to have you for as long as you need to stay,” Simon said as he looked down at the plate of cheese. “I wonder if I’m still going to get paid for this.”

  “I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Liz said. “I’m guessing Nancy didn’t make a contract?”

  “Not quite,” Simon said with a shrug. “I was giving her mate’s rates anyway. I should clear up and get back up to the farmhouse to make sure Mum and Dad aren’t putting up welcome banners. See you tonight?”

  “You can count on it,” Liz said, letting Simon kiss her on the cheek. “See you later.”

  Simon scooped up his tray and with a wave, exited the gallery. Liz stared at the blank wall. She did not know how much time had passed before Catherine hurried in with a trolley holding the classic art that originally belonged on the wall. Catherine ignored Liz as she restored them to their proper homes, treating the artwork on the floor with more respect than her boss had. She carefully stacked them up and put them on the trolley, wheeling them into the room she had presumably been in since the exhibit's demise.

  Liz stared at the dark paintings on the walls in their heavy gold frames. She appreciated most art, including the ‘classics’, but Katelyn seemed to be obsessed by the dullest examples of bygone eras. Between the standard landscapes and un-smiling portraits, Liz could feel her passion for art draining by looking at them. Knowing it had been Katelyn who had chosen them, and that she had been the one to destroy Lewis’ portrait, her delayed anger rose up.

  “Who does she think she is?” Liz mumbled to herself, jumping up and immediately marching towards the door.

  Liz turned left, remembering where Katelyn’s office was from the day she had foolishly thought the manager might have displayed her work. That had been during Liz’s first week in Scarlet Cove, but she was no longer naïve when it came to Katelyn Monroe. Her frozen tongue had finally melted, and she knew exactly which piece of her mind she was going to give her.

  Liz marched right up to the door, pausing for a moment, her knuckles clenched over the mahogany wood. She looked at the brass plaque with Katelyn’s name on it. Liz decided she was not going to give Katelyn the choice of ignoring her. Unclenching her fist, she reached out for the doorknob. She twisted and pushed forward.

  “Elizabeth?” a familiar and refined voice called down the corridor. “What a lovely surprise!”

  Liz pulled the door back into its place, turning to see Christopher Monroe, a local business tycoon and owner of Scarlet Cove’s harbour. Unlike his sister, Katelyn, Liz liked Christopher, despite their early interactions revolving around his unrequited crush on her. She noticed the deepened tan on his face and the whiteness of his blond hair, and realised that she had not seen him about town for the last couple of weeks.

  “Australia?” she asked, pushing her momentary rage away. “You look well.”

  “As do you,” he said as he gave her an awkward hug, his tailored suit pressing cumbersomely against her. “Thankfully, I was able to cut my trip short. The thought of spending another week with my parents was rather frightful.”

  From what Christopher had told her about his parents, she was not surprised. A team of nannies and cooks had raised him while his wealthy parents indulged in their fortune. They had lived in Australia for many years, and Christopher had not seen them since. They only communicated via phone calls to ask if their forty-something-year-old son had married yet.

  “I hope you had a nice time,” Liz said, glancing back at the office door, small talk the last thing on her mind. “Did you take any good –”

  Before Liz could finish her sentence, a tall and beautiful woman walking through the reception area distracted her. She had the face of someone in their early thirties and the body of someone a decade younger. Slender and toned, yet still impossibly curvaceous. Her hair was golden blonde in tight ringlet curls, and her complexion buttery and bronzed. She reminded Liz of an early Kylie Minogue album cover. When the beauty spotted the back of Christopher’s head, she revealed a full set of beautiful pearly teeth, like a shark after a trip to the dentist. To Liz’s surprise, she slipped her arm around Christopher’s, her eyes landing on Liz.

  “Here you are,” the model-like woman said, a definite Australian twang to her voice. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”

  “I wanted to check something with my sister,” Christopher said, resting his hand on the strange woman’s soft fingers as he stared awkwardly at Liz. “Elizabeth, this is – well, this is also, Elisabeth.”

  “With an ‘s’,” the Australian beauty announced, extending a hand. “Elisabeth Wilson. Everyone calls me Lizzie. Nice to meet you, Elizabeth.”

  “Everyone calls me Liz,” she mumbled, confusion clear in her voice. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

  Liz accepted Lizzie’s hand, noticing the giant rock on her left hand. Christopher noticed that she had noticed and smiled sheepishly, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

  “This is my fiancée,” he announced flatly. “I’m finally
getting married!”

  “Our parents know each other,” Lizzie explained, her grin widening as she looked up at Christopher. “We met at the beginning of his trip and fell madly in love, didn’t we?”

  “Yes,” Christopher replied, as though someone had asked if he wanted a cup of tea. “Is my sister in her office?”

  Liz stared down at the ring again, confused by what was standing in front of her. She remembered seeing Christopher in The Sea Platter less than a month ago, and he definitely had not been engaged then. She wondered if she had bumped her head during the exhibit, hoping the last eventful hour had been nothing more than a horrible concussion. When Lizzie locked her dazzling green eyes on Liz, she knew her feet and mind were planted firmly in reality.

  “I think so,” Liz said, hooking her thumb over her shoulder to Katelyn’s office door. “I wanted to speak to her myself, actually.”

  Christopher let go of Lizzie’s arm and walked around Liz to the door. He knocked, but no one answered. The two women stood next to each other, their smiles awkward and the air silent. Liz wondered if Christopher had told his new fiancée about his exhausting pursuit of Liz when she first moved to the town.

  “Katelyn?” Christopher called through the wood. “It’s me. Do you have my passport? I can’t find it, and I don’t want to accept that I’ve been silly enough to leave it in the taxi.”

  Christopher looked over his shoulder at the two women, smiling stiffly as he waited for a response. When he did not get one, he grabbed the door handle as Liz had, pushing open the door. He stepped inside, his footsteps clumsy and rigid. Liz stepped forward to follow him inside, but the Australian pushed past her, keen to stick to her new fiancé like Velcro.

  There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Lizzie let out a blood-curdling scream. It echoed down the empty corridor, piercing Liz’s ears from every angle. Lizzie buried herself into Christopher’s chest, her gigantic diamond glittering under the light. Liz stepped into the office, her breath escaping her when she saw what had made Lizzie scream.