Stroke of Death

by Agatha Frost

  Ellie giggled as she continued to fidget on the chair Liz had put her in. Liz sketched out the shape of her, but getting a little girl to sit still for long enough was a more difficult task than she had bargained for.

  Once Liz was happy with the outline, she started to mix the colours for Ellie’s pale skin tone. She periodically glanced back at Ellie to make sure she was getting the proportions correct, but as usual, she slipped into her world.

  “I need to pee,” Ellie announced, pushing her legs together. “Really bad.”

  Liz glanced at the clock, and then back at the painting. To her surprise, almost two hours had passed, and in that time, Ellie had sat somewhat still enough for Liz to capture her. Her excitement at being painted by Liz stopped her running off to play with Paddy.

  “Let’s take a break,” Liz said, rubbing her hand as she felt a cramp creeping up. “You’ve done a great job so far.”

  Ellie jumped down from the stool before skipping off to the bathroom. Liz took her moment alone to assess the painting, which was coming together quicker than she had expected. Tilting her head, she was proud of the likeness she had managed to achieve from such a squirmy subject.

  “That looks great,” Simon said, emerging out of nowhere. “You’re good at this. Coffee?”

  Without waiting for a reply, Simon handed Liz a steaming cup. As though her body appreciated the timing of the caffeine, she let out an all-consuming yawn.

  “Exactly what the painter ordered,” she said before sipping the hot drink. “How’s the calving coming along?”

  “Betsy gave birth about fifteen minutes ago,” Simon said after checking his watch. “He’s a healthy sixty-two pound calf. The vet is checking him over now, but it all went according to plan. We need a name for him.”

  “How about Java?” Liz suggested as she stared down into the blackness. “Or Caffeine? This is good coffee.”

  “I bought it especially for you. I didn’t go for the cheap stuff either. Top shelf only.”

  Liz chuckled as Ellie strolled back into the front room, pulling Sandra with her to look at the picture. Sandra, who had spent all morning on the farm with Betsy, was wrapped up in a thick scarf, hat, and gloves. Ellie climbed back onto the chair and resumed the exact position Liz had put her in.

  “Well, would you look at that?” Sandra beamed as she planted her hands on her hips. “John! Come and look at this.”

  John walked in from the kitchen in similar attire to his wife. He pulled off his gloves before sliding one of his arms around his wife’s waist.

  “You’ve got some serious talent, kiddo,” John announced, smacking Liz heartily on the back. “Have you ever thought about selling these things? You could make a fortune.”

  “It’s just for fun,” Liz said, looking at the paintbrush but not wanting to resume with an audience. “But thank you.”

  “Let’s leave the woman to finish,” Sandra said, shooing John over to the couch. “I want it done so I can hang it up right away. Maybe you could do a family one next?”

  “She’s not a printer, Mum,” Simon said as he sat next to his parents on the couch behind Ellie on the stool. “Let her finish this one first.”

  “I’m only saying!” Sandra said. “It would be nice to have one of all of us, that’s all.”

  “Pretend we aren’t here,” John added.

  Liz took one more sip of the coffee before placing it on the side table next to her. She did not mind them watching her from afar, but the thought of someone watching every brush stroke sucked out the fun. After dipping her brush into some white paint, she assured Ellie they would be done soon, not that she seemed to mind posing.

  “Thank you for offering to babysit in a few days,” Sandra said after almost half an hour of silence. “We haven’t had a chance to go out for a while, and it’s big winnings at bingo.”

  “It’s not a problem,” Liz said as she tried to mix the perfect colour for the natural highlights in Ellie’s fair hair. “We had planned to have a night in anyway.”

  “You’ll be a good girl, won’t you?” Sandra moved her attention to Ellie who was sitting beautifully. “Of course you will be. You always are.”

  Ellie simply nodded, taking her position as a model very seriously. Liz painted for another half an hour or so as Simon’s parents chatted idly in the background. The second she slipped back into her world, it was easy to tune them out and continue with her art.

  “I think it’s done,” Liz announced as she dropped the paintbrush into the muddied water for the final time. “Want to see, Ellie?”

  Ellie jumped down, pushing forward her widest grin. She ran to Liz’s side, almost knocking over the easel. Simon wandered over and joined them in staring at the finished piece.

  “It looks just like me,” Ellie squealed in delight, as she excitedly clapped her hands together. “Mummy, Daddy! Come and look!”

  Ellie jumped up on Liz’s lap and threw her arms around her neck, her lack of front teeth showing as she smiled.

  “Can I keep it?”

  “I painted it for you.”

  “Wow, kiddo,” John said as he looked at the finished piece. “Looks exactly like a photograph.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want any money for it?” Sandra asked placing her hand on her chest. “It’s very good.”

  “I’m sure,” Liz said. “You’ve been more than kind enough to let me stay here.”

  “And we’ve told you, that’s our pleasure,” Sandra said as she stared at the painting even closer. “The detail is astounding. I don’t know how you do it! I can barely draw a stickman.”

  “Where should we hang it, sweetheart?” John said, lifting Ellie from Liz’s lap. “How about outside your bedroom, so everyone knows where you live?”

  Ellie and John walked out of the room hand in hand with the painting. The way Ellie looked up at her father filled Liz with so much warmth.

  “She’s such a sweet girl,” Liz said, reaching out for the coffee and almost picking up the muddy paint water in the process. “You two show you can be parents at any age. It’s not often you hear about people having babies in their – what must you have been? Your late fifties?”

  Sandra and Simon looked at each other before turning to Liz with identical smiles.

  “I didn’t give birth to Ellie, dear,” Sandra said with a chuckle. “It would have been a genetic miracle if I had. I started going through the change when I was forty-seven, and it lasted a whole ten years. You’ve got all that to come yourself, but it’s not too late for you to – y’know – have babies if you wanted to.”

  Liz and Simon both blushed, both of them picking up on what she was hinting at. It was a conversation they had yet to have.

  “What my mother is trying to say is that Ellie was adopted,” Simon said, his cheeks burning even darker as he looked at Liz. “We’ve had her since she was a baby.”

  Sandra teetered to a bookshelf and picked out a huge bursting photo album. She sat on the sofa and patted the seat next to her. Liz sat down, but Simon perched on the chair arm.

  “We’ve fostered over forty children,” Sandra said as she flicked through the pages of smiling children. “After Simon was born, we knew we had a great love for children, so we decided we were going to put this farm to good use. A lot of the time, we were a halfway stop for children before they found permanent homes. We took in babies and teenagers, some for weeks, some for months, and some for years.”

  “The house was always full growing up,” Simon said fondly. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

  “We still get Christmas cards and the odd visit from some of them,” Sandra said before turning to the last picture. “Ah, here she is.” Sandra pointed at a picture of a younger-looking Simon holding a blonde baby girl in his arms. “Naturally, we got old, against our will. We couldn’t keep up with the conveyer belt of the system anymore, so when we took Ellie in, we knew she would be the last one. We fell in love with her, and we realised we couldn’t part with her,
so we adopted her. She felt like ours the second we held her.” Sandra stroked the picture, her eyes crinkling as she smiled dreamily down at the photograph. “She knows where she came from, not that it matters. I’ve loved every child that has come through here like they were my own.”

  “You’re a good woman,” Liz said looking directly at Sandra. “You really are.”

  Sandra beamed at Liz, and for a moment, she looked as though she was about to cry. She looked down at her watch before snapping the album shut.

  “Would you look at the time,” she said, closing the book and placing it back on the bookshelf. “It’s almost Ellie’s bedtime.”

  Sandra left them alone in the sitting room, but they did not stay seated. Simon jumped up and held out his hand, a playful glint in his eyes.

  “I have a surprise for you,” he said. “Follow me.”

  He led her outside and to his cottage. When they arrived at the darkened cottage, Simon unlocked the door, but he turned back to Liz, his teeth biting his bottom lip.

  “Close your eyes,” he requested. “Just for a minute.”

  Liz pouted before doing as she was told. Simon grabbed Liz’s hand and led her over the threshold into his cottage. She was tempted to open her eyes, but she kept them closed.

  “Can you see anything?”

  “Not a thing.”

  Simon let go of her hand, leaving her by the door. She heard him running around the cottage, the sound of a lighter flint flicking half a dozen times.

  “Surprise!”

  She fluttered her eyes and looked around the small cottage, which was washed in the glow of soft candles. It was tidier than she had ever seen it, and there was a bottle of wine and two glasses waiting for them on the kitchen table.

  “I thought I’d do something special for us,” Simon said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I’d see you more since you moved in, but you always seem so busy. I thought this would be a nice way for some quality time. And, it is Valentine’s Day.”

  “It is?” Liz exclaimed, spotting the card and flowers on the kitchen counter. “I forgot! Oh, Simon. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry,” Simon said with a wink. “I forgot too. You can thank my mum for a last-minute reminder. It’s been a while since I’ve had to think about it.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Liz said, touched by the effort Simon had gone to. “Thank you.”

  “There’s a lasagne waiting in the oven,” Simon said as he led her into the tiny kitchen at the back of the cottage. “Mum made it for us. I only have to warm it up.”

  While the lasagne heated up in the oven, they sat at the kitchen table with their glasses of wine. It felt like such a normal activity, and yet it was one Liz suddenly realised they had not done in a while. She appreciated Simon going to the effort to give them some romantic alone time.

  They chatted idly about the farm, and Simon’s cheese and ice cream company before the conversation inevitably turned to Katelyn Monroe.

  “Found anything yet?” he asked after sipping his wine. “I suppose you’re all over the case.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Come on, Liz,” Simon said, raising his eyebrows. “I know you.”

  Liz sipped her wine, wondering if it was worth trying to convince Simon otherwise. She had not exactly been looking into things, but she had learned more than a couple of things that had piqued her interest.

  “I’ve been keeping my ear to the ground,” she said before taking a huge gulp of wine. “I haven’t found out much.”

  “What have you found out?”

  Liz shrugged before sifting through her head trying to organise all her information.

  “Trevor is furious about Katelyn selling him the fake paintings,” she stated, tracing the rim of the wine glass. “I visited his hotel, and I spoke to the man who identified them. He seems wealthy enough, but it must sting to be a collector and be duped like that.”

  “There’s Catherine too,” Simon said as he peered through the oven door to check on the lasagne. “She jumped into Katelyn’s shoes pretty quickly.”

  “So, I’ve not been the only one thinking about it,” Liz said as she concealed a smile. “She’s on my list. She’s certainly continuing Katelyn’s dictatorship of the gallery. Katelyn embarrassed her in front of the whole town, so there’s a motive. There’s Debbie too.”

  “Is she the bangle lady?”

  “That’s her,” Liz said with a chuckle. “She has history with Katelyn. I know they went to college together, but I haven’t dug any deeper yet.”

  “Do you still suspect Nancy?” Simon asked, his eyes locking on her seriously. “I called her this morning. She told me about your visit.”

  Liz took another big gulp of wine. She wished she could say either way, but she still did not know what to believe. Nancy was her best friend, but when it came to the facts, she knew she could not be emotional.

  “She has the motive,” Liz stated. “And she had the means and the chance.”

  “But it’s Nancy,” Simon said. “Nancy Turtle. She doesn’t even kill spiders in the bath. She catches them and sets them free.”

  Liz knew that Nancy was a good person, but she had met a lot of good people over the years who had snapped and done something bad. It could take a split-second decision to change someone’s entire moral code.

  “There’s Lance too,” Liz continued, deciding to divert the conversation away from Nancy. “I heard about his relationship with Katelyn. It wouldn’t make too much sense for him to wait for so long, but there could be something more.”

  “It wasn’t any old relationship,” Simon said, his brows furrowing. “It was so long ago, but I’ve known him since we were kids. They were about two weeks away from their wedding.”

  “Really?”

  “He adored her,” Simon stated. “She was different back then, but it was all an act. I suppose you heard about how it all ended?”

  “Debbie told me she left him when the money went up in smoke.”

  “There’s more.” Simon’s eyes widened. “She finished things at his birthday party. They had a big bash at the manor hotel. Every single person in Scarlet Cove was there. Katelyn got drunk and got up on the stage with a microphone and called off the wedding.”

  “Wow.”

  “It tore the poor guy up,” Simon continued. “She didn’t just rip his heart out, she tore it in half in front of every person he knew. That’s when he started travelling. I don’t think he could face it all, so he didn’t. When he came back, he was different. He made a little money from selling his art while he was away, so he rented the cottage down the lane.”

  Liz thought about the cottage. She had passed it many times when walking Paddy, but she had had no idea that was where Lance lived.

  The topic of conversation drifted away from Katelyn when Simon served up the lasagne. After cleaning their plates, they cuddled up on Simon’s couch with their wine. When he turned the television on, Titanic was playing on one of the channels, so they let it play.

  When the iceberg stuck the ship, she heard soft snoring coming from Simon. She peeled herself from under him and placed a blanket over him.

  “Sweet dreams,” she whispered after kissing him on the forehead.

  Spirits high from the romantic evening, she headed back to the farmhouse. Like her son, Sandra was also asleep with Titanic playing quietly on the television. Liz thought about going to bed to continue making notes about the case, but she was wide awake.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” she whispered to Paddy as she clipped a lead onto his collar. “I fancy some fresh air.”

  She pulled on her coat and set off to the edge of the farm. After unlatching the gate, she squinted into the distance, the lights from Lance’s cottage shining in the pitch black.

  “We shouldn’t,” she said as Paddy looked up at her with his glossy eyes. “Should we?”

  Paddy tilted his head, his floppy ears hanging from his head. Her curiosity getting
the better of her, Liz set off in the direction of the lights. She knew it was late, but she could not help herself.

  She reached Lance’s cottage a couple of minutes later. It was like Simon’s in that it was small and modest, but it seemed to predate any of the other buildings in Scarlet Cove. When she heard Lance’s voice coming from inside, she knocked on the door. The curtains twitched immediately. Seconds later Lance opened the door. He was wearing a pair of paint-covered white linen trousers, but the paint did not stop there. He was naked from the waist up, his chiselled, tanned torso on display and also covered in paint. From the way he clung to the doorframe, Liz could tell that he had been drinking.

  “Yes?” he slurred, his eyes struggling to focus on Liz. “What do you want?”

  “Hi, Lance,” she said, already regretting her decision. “I was walking Paddy, and I saw your lights on, so I thought I’d see how you were.”

  Lance sloppily raised an eyebrow as he tucked his messy hair behind his ears. He staggered back and walked into the cottage, leaving the front door wide open; Liz took it as an invitation.

  Photos and memorabilia from different countries lined his walls and surfaces, giving the coastal cottage an unusual feel that Liz quite liked.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Liz said as she followed him into the small sitting room.

  “I’m painting,” he said bluntly.

  Lance walked over to his easel, which he had set up in the middle of the room. Liz looked around him to see what he was working on, speechless when she saw Katelyn Monroe staring back at her. She was much younger than the woman Liz had known, and she was much more beautiful than Liz remembered. The most striking thing about the portrait was the carefree smile on her lips. Liz was sure she had never seen Katelyn smile.

  But the painting chilled Liz to the bone. The portrait was beautifully painted, but Lance had defiled it by adding garish red horns, along with blackening out her eyes.

  “My best work yet!” he exclaimed before grabbing a bottle of what Liz recognised as gin. He swallowed the alcohol without wincing before slumping down on his clothes-cluttered couch.