by Amy Saunders
She was relieved when they could pause their chase when Angie stopped in a deserted parking lot next to a closed bank. Angie pulled up to the Dumpster, got out, glancing around her, then flipped the top open and with a pair of working gloves on, hopped inside, and started digging through it.
Belinda sat forward in disbelief, staring out from their shady parking spot across the street from the Dumpster. “What is she doing?”
“Dumpster diving.”
“Yes, I can see that, Captain Obvious. But why?”
Bennett tilted back against the headrest, one arm hanging out the window. “She’s exploring unique and innovative ways to recycle everyday products like water bottles, coffee cans, and egg cartons. What you tossed into a recycling bin may one day be on display in a museum.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s what the sign said.”
“What sign?”
“The sign about Angie’s sculpture at the museum.”
“I didn’t read it.”
“Clearly.”
Belinda narrowed her eyes in irritation. “Well, pooky, tell me what else it said.”
Bennett ignored her attempt to ruffle him. “That was pretty much it. She specializes in reutilizing trash and recycling, turning it into artistic expressions, mostly concerning the planet.”
While he talked, she looked up Angie on the web on her phone. She’d been in a few small exhibits here and there, mostly in Providence, including another outdoor exhibit that got press coverage. Angie was mentioned with a photo of her sculpture. This time, Belinda could clearly see what it was. “It’s a bear. Look.”
“Oh, yeah.” Bennett squinted to make out the image on her phone screen.
“You think she’s just collecting for her sculptures?” Belinda thought Angie must really love her art to be knee-deep in garbage to create it. “She looked around before she got in like checking to make sure no one saw.”
“Would you want people staring at you while you crawled around in trash?”
“Well, no.”
Angie hefted a black garbage bag, one of those industrial-size ones, and dropped it to the pavement, deftly hopping back out and dropping to the ground. The black plastic settled around its contents, creating a rectangular outline. “Does that look like it could be a canvas to you?” Belinda said.
“Absolutely.”
Angie placed the bag in her trunk, whipped off her gloves, and drove off.
Chapter 9
They followed Angie out into the more residential zones of Portside, where it was grassy and less condensed than the main part of town. The boughs of old trees sprawled out over the roads, the branches bowing up and down in the breeze. Angie pulled up to a white garage just off the road, parking in the small strip of a driveway in front of it. A matching white house, a simple Cape with dormer windows, sat to the side and back, a good distance away.
While Belinda wondered why Angie parked in front of the garage instead of inside of it, Angie went in through a regular door to the side, and seconds later the garage door rolled up. It was an art studio. But not in a traditional sense. Various power tools were laid out on a bench in the center next to a sculpture-in-progress.
Bennett adjusted his seat so he could (sort of) stretch his legs out. Since it was clear they were now on surveillance duty, Belinda twisted around to reach a bag in the backseat. She dug around in the tote bag with the words Portside Yachting emblazoned on the side, one of the goodies Kyle got for volunteering at the yacht club. She found the container of homemade granola bars under a white pastry box and set them on the dash, fishing out two water bottles.
“You come prepared,” Bennett said.
“You never know when surveillance will happen. And everything is better with snacks.”
Angie appeared in the door again, this time wearing safety glasses, and hoisted up a drill on the table. Belinda followed Bennett’s example and pushed her seat back. It looked like they were going to watch Angie work for a while.
And they did. They discussed Meg’s art collection, Kyle’s saving program for Australia now that Belinda had helped him institute a strict spending diet, and the likelihood that Jonas would go scuba diving anyway, certified or not.
“He’s mellowed a lot,” Bennett said about Jonas. “Back when we worked together, I wouldn’t have blinked an eye at his going on and doing it anyhow. I probably would’ve expected it. But now…well, I think police work has made him less reckless.”
“What kind of girls does he usually date?” Belinda only knew about Colleen, and she still couldn’t quite believe it.
“Every kind.” Bennett laughed. “I’ll give him credit for not being partial.”
“So he’s not picky?” Maybe that explained Colleen. Not that Colleen was unattractive…she was pretty when Belinda wasn’t thinking too hard about her personality.
“No, he’s picky in his own way. They’re always pretty. Sometimes downright gorgeous. And they’re always smart. I’ve never known him to date a silly woman.”
“He’d be drawn to someone career-oriented then?”
“I’d say so.” Bennett finally faced her, his eyes sparkling with question marks in the fading sunlight. Right about now, the setting sun would be blazing against the water on the beach. “What’s with this line of questioning? Are you sizing up Ardith’s chances or something?”
“I’m just curious.” Belinda shrugged, not wanting to spill about Colleen to him. She knew he and Jonas talked about everything and she’d feel bad if it got around to him. “It’s not the sort of thing I’d ask Jonas.”
“You wouldn’t offend him if you did.” Bennett’s eyes shot back to the garage as the door clattered against the concrete. Angie’s hands and forearms were streaked black, Belinda guessed from working with the metal or whatever she was doing in there. She opened her trunk and brought the black garbage bag through the side door. A few minutes later, she came back out, checked to make sure the door was locked, and left. Bennett didn’t follow this time.
“Are we about to do something illegal?” Belinda said.
“You wanna stay in the car?”
Belinda opened her glove compartment, which she kept locked these days, and handed Bennett a pair of gloves. “I bought something I thought would fit you.” She slipped her fingers into a smaller pair for herself.
Bennett smiled, turning them over. “You really do come prepared.”
Belinda grinned in return, taking a hairpin out of her purse for lock picking and handed it to him. “I’m getting better, but I’m still not very fast.”
Bennett was, though, and they walked in as quickly as if he’d had a key. It was dark by that point and Belinda turned on her mini flashlight once they shut the door. “When did you get so good at picking locks?”
Bennett’s wicked smile kind of gave her the creeps in the little bit of light illuminating his face. “I’m good at a lot of things.”
“Except modesty,” she muttered, waving the flashlight across the ground to get her bearings. It was tough to get a big picture perspective, but it was as small inside as it looked with a concrete floor and a giant sculpture made from all sorts of scraps being a diva and owning most of the space. She thought it could be some type of plant. The more images of Angie’s work she saw, the more she kind of liked it. Maybe when this was over, she would buy one of her sculptures to start her collection.
“There,” Bennett pointed to a black trash bag against the other wall. He peeked inside first, then slid the bag down, revealing what they both thought was inside. Art canvases, and they weren’t blank. The top painting was a young man whose face was turned from view, but other parts of him were up front and center.
Bennett didn’t act like he noticed, kneeling down to check for the signature. “It’s signed A.L.”
“That’s it?” Belinda tried to focus on the two letters scrawled on the bottom right corner. “That’s no help at all.”
Bennett looked up at her. “It’s not familia
r?”
“The nude man or the signature?”
He paused a beat before answering. “The signature.”
“Not at all. I’ve never heard of an artist who signs A.L.” She tipped the nude to see the other two paintings behind it. They were of the same guy, but less exposed. At least his bottom half. In each one, you couldn’t see his face, only his brown hair. She let the paintings fall back against the wall and got her phone out to take photos, aiming it at the top painting.
“Seriously?” Bennett said.
“We might need it to track down the artist.” She snapped her photos quickly and put her phone away. “So do you think she’s digging art out of Dumpsters and selling it to people like Kevin?”
“Is there a lot of art being thrown in Dumpsters around here?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Then I doubt that’s what’s going on.”
“Do you have a better guess?”
One corner of his mouth dipped down. “Not yet.” He glanced over his shoulder. “We should get going before someone sees the light.” Belinda agreed and they slipped back out into the night.
Chapter 10
While Belinda and Bennett followed Angie around town, Jonas hoped showing up for this “clandestine” meeting at the park on Ocean Avenue wouldn’t completely waste his afternoon. Wind whipped up off the water across the street, making it a favorite place for people to fly kites. At the height of tourist season, like now, you’d find several kite enthusiasts. Families flew ordinary kites with their kids, but others–kite experts of a sort–flew elaborate, and sometimes large, kites, drawing in onlookers.
He stood with hands in pockets and sleeves rolled up, admiring a kite he figured out was a bird, gliding on the air above them. Even with sunglasses on, Jonas had to shade his eyes to see it in the bright afternoon sun. He was happy to take a minute to enjoy the cooler air right on the coast. Even just a mile or so inland, it was much stickier.
He still didn’t know what to do about his scuba problem. Belinda’s question came back to him, wondering why he didn’t just tell Ardith he couldn’t dive and go out to do something else with her. For some reason, his brain didn’t always work that way.
“Detective Parker?”
Startled out of his own thoughts, Jonas swiveled sideways, remembering why he was there. He was startled again when he saw who said his name. “Jarrett?” Jonas hadn’t thought about this kid in a while, though he knew he’d be summoned to the court hearing eventually. “You left me that message?”
Jarrett nodded, scratching the side of his head nervously. “I know it’s weird.”
Jonas was thinking more like lame. But, sure. Weird. “What’s with the secrecy?”
He followed Jarrett up the hill, away from the spectators. “I don’t want anyone to know about this.”
“I get that. Why?”
Jarrett still had a hand on his head, now patting down the spot he’d rumpled seconds ago. “It’s been rough coming back. I don’t think this would look good.”
Which probably equaled his friends would think he’s a snitch. “Fair enough. But you claimed you know something relevant to the Kevin Pratt case. Did you know Kevin?”
“No. But I saw him at a party a few days ago. Mostly college kids, but there were others.” He went on faster, trying to skim over that part. “Anyway, it’s not like Kevin stood out or anything in general. I didn’t even know his name until I saw the news about his murder. He got into a fight with someone during the party. They were out by the pool when it happened.”
That piece of news exceeded Jonas’ expectations. A fight was something. “Do you know the guy he fought with?”
“No name. I didn’t know him. But somebody said they were both at URI.”
Jonas tilted his head. “C’mon, Jarrett. You went to the trouble to contact me and set up a meeting around a bunch of two-year-olds.” One of whom broke free from her father and ran wildly for about a foot before tripping and falling face forward. “You must have something more solid than that.”
Jarrett glanced around him suspiciously.
“I don’t think that five-year-old over there will tell anyone about this,” Jonas said.
“It’s not what you think…it’s just…it could be a problem. If it comes back to me.”
“So it’s someone you know? In your circle?”
Jarrett shook his head. “We weren’t even supposed to be there. I went along with it because it didn’t seem like a big deal.”
“We? Who’s we?”
Jarrett realized his slip and started backpedalling. “Nobody. Just some friends. They’d heard about the party and that’s why we went. You know, just to do something.” He took a breath and continued before Jonas could cut in, “Anyway, I don’t know this for sure. But I heard someone near me during the fight say the other guy’s name was Alec. That’s all I know.”
Jonas folded his arms, pausing long enough to make Jarrett twitchy. Jarrett claimed he didn’t know either of them, but he knew enough to realize who was who in the fight. “So you had a front row seat for the fight, I take it.”
“Not really.”
“Well, you were close enough to the fight to recognize Kevin on TV later. And you knew the other guy’s name was Alec.”
“I didn’t say that. I just know now that the other guy had to be Alec because Kevin was the one who died. I didn’t know who they were at the time.”
“How do you even remember this at all? It was a college party, so I know you had to be drinking.”
Jarrett opened his mouth, like he was about to swear on his future grave he didn’t, but then changed his mind and conceded with a shrug. “Certain things stick out. I can’t explain it.”
Jonas frowned. “You need to get better at lying if you’re going to call me up and try to pass off a story like this.”
“I’m telling the truth!”
“I have no doubt you saw Kevin and Alec get into it at this party. But you’re lying about knowing them.”
“I don’t,” he said rather weakly.
“Do you know why they were fighting?” He would ignore the lie for now, and try and drain him of info on the theory that Jarrett never knew Alec or Kevin. He knew Jarrett was worried for himself, but not because of Alec, or anyone else at that party. He was worried this would get him into more trouble and affect his sentencing later.
“Just rumors.”
“Humor me.”
Jarrett stood stiffly, hands in pockets, staring at no point in particular beyond Jonas. “Something about Kevin taking something that belonged to Alec, I think.’“
“Kevin stole something from Alec?”
Jarrett shook his head. “I don’t know what it was, but it sounded like Kevin stole something, not money. Something valuable. And Alec had just found out somehow at the party.”
“Could Kevin have stolen a painting?”
Jarrett made a face. “From Alec?”
“Or from his family.”
Jarrett laughed. “I don’t think so.”
“Did you hear anything about a painting? Related to Kevin or not?”
Jarrett made a face like Alec did when Jonas asked him a similar question. Like he’d just asked if he’d heard anything about aliens. But then Jarrett’s eyes registered something, like a thought occurred to him, but he only said no. That was the second time mention of a painting had garnered that type of guarded reaction. Interesting.
It was also interesting that Jarrett, who didn’t know Alec or Kevin, knew neither Alec nor his family would own a painting worth stealing.
“How did the fight turn out?” Jonas said.
“Some other guys broke them up and that was it.”
“Did they leave, stay?”
“I think Kevin left.”
That wasn’t shocking, though it could explain why he distanced himself from his roomies later. “Did you see Kevin with anyone else that night?”
“After the fight, there was a girl who went
up to him as he was leaving like…like she wanted to help. But he just pushed her out of the way and left.”
“Do you not know her either?” Jonas said sarcastically. Though he was thinking maybe this was the mystery girl Kevin supposedly met and ran off with.
“Not personally. But her name’s Angie. She works at the art museum, I guess.” He shrugged.
Art museum? Now that was intriguing, except Jarrett was completely unperturbed about telling him this. Either it had nothing to do with the painting, and Jarrett knew that, or it was related and he had no clue. “Were they dating?”
“I don’t think it was like that.”
“Then what do you think it was like?”
“It seemed like she liked him, but not the other way around.”
“Was there someone he did like?” A lot of violence came down to people being jilted one way or another. If the money trail dried up, there was always this.
“I…I don’t know.” Jarrett had taken micro steps backwards, a similar guarded look in his eyes as when Jonas mentioned the painting.
“I think you do know.”
Jarrett fumbled with his phone. “I need to go. My mom thinks I just ran out to get a coffee. She’ll get suspicious if I don’t get back soon.”
“Keeping you on a tight leash?”
Jarrett smiled awkwardly. “Yeah.”
Not tight enough, Jonas thought. He dug in his back pocket and pulled out a card with his name and phone numbers. “Next time you don’t know somebody connected to a case, call me. No more mystery meeting places.”
Jarrett accepted the card and nodded, leaving Jonas in the park surrounded by kite flyers. And still more questions, but now he had two people to hunt down and talk to. Alec again, which didn’t surprise him, and some girl named Angie, who supposedly worked at the museum.
He wondered how Jarrett knew that detail. There was a mystery person hanging in the air connecting Jarrett to these people. He honestly didn’t sound like he really knew them, but more like he knew them by association. So who was the connecting dot? Whomever it was, Jonas felt that person had more knowledge about Kevin–and possibly his murder.
