by J. B. Lynn
“Well,” Amanda said as though she had been in the middle of a conversation about the very subject. “I’m going to go for my walk now.” She looked over at the bookshelf and jerked her head, indicating the ghost should accompany her. Smiling at Ash, she walked out of the shop.
That left Beatrice alone with the carpenter.
She quickly shoved Pim back into her pocket.
“I’m sorry about last night,” Ash began.
“No, I should be,” Beatrice said. “Emotions were running high, I understand that I startled people, but I was very worried about Rena.”
Ash nodded. “That’s admirable. Will she be back here tonight?”
Beatrice flashed a thumbs up. “I think it’s safer for her here than out on the street.”
“I agree,” Ash said. “I’d let her stay in my shop, but people would talk, and I’d get a visit from the police and that…”
Beatrice tilted her head to the side. “It’s probably not the best look for a grown man to have a teenage girl living with him.”
He shook his head, then his hands went up defensively. “Even though there’s nothing there.”
“I get it.” Beatrice laughed. “You don’t have to be so defensive.”
Ash hit the side of his leg with the rolled-up papers he held. He looked around the store. “You guys are changing things.”
“Letty always said ‘Change is growth, even when it’s painful’.”
He nodded. “Makes sense to me.”
“I assume that that was the art dealer?” Beatrice asked. “The one that was so impatient earlier?”
Ash rolled his eyes. “Close. That’s the guy who runs the charity, Nottingham.”
“He seemed insufferable.”
Ash threw his head back and laughed. “With an attitude like that, you’ll never make it in retail.”
Bea held up her hands, suggesting surrender. “Guilty as charged. Did he like the kinetic frame?”
Ash frowned. “What he said was, with the show being tomorrow, it wasn’t like he had much choice.”
Beatrice winced. “There are some people you can never make happy.”
Ash shrugged. “At least I’m getting paid for the job.”
She could hear his disappointment and felt badly that Nottingham hadn’t recognized the craftsmanship that had gone into the project.
Ash stepped closer and held out the rolled-up papers. “Letty blew up this photograph to show off the frame. It’s all the same picture, but I thought you might want to have them. I don’t really know why, but it seemed to be important to her. I mean, I can’t give you the original, but thought maybe…” He held them out to her.
A lump rose in her throat and tears burned her eyes, overwhelmed by his thoughtful gesture. She swallowed hard and blinked quickly. “That was really considerate of you, thank you,” Beatrice said. She reached out and took the papers from him.
The world tilted, and she was in another vision.
Letty was in an art gallery looking around. She was enjoying herself; Beatrice could sense that. Then, she stopped in front of a brightly colored painting. She read the tag. Alexander Astahov. As though outside of herself, Beatrice realized this must have been the AA painting that Peabody had referenced.
His description of it hadn’t been incorrect. The brightly colored surreal painting consisted of a room with reproductions of other master artists’ works hung on the walls, interspersed with butterflies.
Letty’s gaze slipped over to the price tag, displayed discreetly.
All of a sudden, Beatrice felt her godmother grow angry.
Beatrice dropped the prints, taking herself out of the vision.
“You do that a lot, space out,” Ash said, looking at her strangely. “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”
Shaken by the vision, Beatrice shook her head. She rubbed the base of her skull, trying to erase the pain that pounded there. “Sorry.” She reached for the papers, which were scattered on the floor, face down, but Ash was already bending down to pick them up. Their faces were mere inches apart.
“I’ve got it,” he said quietly. She felt his breath on her cheek and knew that if she just tilted her head another inch or two, she could brush her lips against his, but before she could do that, he was turning away, scooping up the papers and rolling them into a tube.
Snapping a rubber band around the lot to hold them together, he walked over to the cash register counter and put them down.
“Do you space out on everybody, or just me?” he asked curiously.
“It’s a relatively new phenomena for me,” Beatrice said. “But I think I do it with everybody.”
He nodded, amusement and admiration shining in his gaze. “You’re different, Bea.”
She chuckled bitterly. “I’ve been told that my entire life.”
Realizing that he’d hit a sore spot for her, he winced. “I didn’t mean…”
She waved him off, not wanting his apology.
Undeterred, he said his bit. “I meant that in the best possible way. You’re different, like the sun is different than the rest of the stars. You shine brighter.”
Bea blinked, unsure of how to respond to the compliment. “I…um…”
“I’m pretty sure the appropriate response would be, Thank you for noticing,” he said with a wink.
The sexy smile he gave her as a follow-up made her cheeks burn with a combination of delight and desire.
“Thank you,” she murmured self-consciously.
He headed for the door. “If you need anything, just let me know.” He was already reaching for the handle when she called out.
“Actually, yes.”
Surprised, he turned around.
“Could you take me to an electronics store tonight?” she asked. She could have taken an Uber, but she felt safer being in his presence.
That killer smile played at his lips again. “If I do, will that count as our second date?” he flirted.
She smiled. “Only if we go for a drink afterward,” she said.
He nodded. “I’d like that. Pick you up at six?”
She nodded.
Smiling, he walked out of the store whistling Glory Days.
A moment later, Amanda returned. She squinted at her sister. “Are you blushing?”
“No,” Beatrice said. “I’m just…”
Amanda raised an eyebrow and smiled knowingly. “He’s a really nice guy.”
Beatrice nodded, overwhelmed by the rush of feelings she had for the cute and considerate carpenter.
Winnie ran down the stairs sounding like a herd of runaway cattle. “Guys, you’re never going to guess what I found.”
41
Clasping an old book that was missing its dust jacket to her chest, Winnie looked around wild-eyed. “Is there anybody else here?”
Amanda shook her head.
Winnie glanced over at the dressing room area. “Are you sure?”
“I’m glad I’m the paranoid one,” Beatrice quipped.
Winnie glared at her. “I’m serious. This is serious. Are we the only ones here?”
Beatrice nodded.
“Then lock the doors.”
Amanda frowned. “We can’t lock the doors during business hours.”
“We can’t have anybody walking in on us right now,” Winnie told her. “Lock the freaking doors.”
Amanda shrugged and moved toward the door to lock it.
“What’s going on?” Beatrice asked, a niggling fear beginning to work its way down the length of her spine.
“Come back here.” Winnie led the way back to the velvet chair over near the dressing room area. She sat down and waited as Beatrice and Amanda gathered around her.
“Are you okay?” Amanda asked.
“You are not going to believe what I’ve found.” She held up the book for the sisters to see.
“A cookbook?” Beatrice asked, totally unimpressed.
“Yes,” Winnie said. “Letty had a cookbook.”
“It’s okay,” Beatrice soothed, reaching for him, but he skittered away. He kept barking and growling and snarling, the hair on his back was raised.
“Maybe somebody threw a book at him in the past,” Amanda guessed. “Can you put it away?”
“No,” Winnie said. “I’m not putting it away. If the dog’s a problem, put the dog away.”
Amanda scooped the mutt up and clasped him to her chest. “It’s okay,” she murmured in a soothing voice. “You’re safe. You’re safe.”
The dog calmed. His eyes were still wild, his tongue was still hanging out, but he remained still and silent.
“Can somebody please explain why a cookbook is so exciting,” Beatrice asked.
“Because Letty didn’t cook?” Winnie suggested.
“Maybe she was taking up a new hobby?” Amanda said. “People do that, you know. They have hobbies. Not everyone is like you, a total workaholic.”
Winnie shook her head. “Because one wants to turn on the oven when it feels like one hundred degrees?” she mocked.
Beatrice reached for the cookbook, but Winnie snatched it away. “It’s not about the cookbook,” Winnie said.
“You just said it’s about the cookbook,” Beatrice told her.
“It’s about what’s inside it.” She glanced at the door, making sure that nobody was peering inside.
“Recipes?” Beatrice asked sarcastically.
Putting the book down on her lap, Winnie opened the cover.
Amanda and Beatrice both gasped in surprise. The book was hollowed out, and a pile of green bills was stacked inside.
“Is that real money?” Amanda asked on a whisper, leaning closer to get a better look.
Winnie nodded. “I’m pretty sure it is.”
“Did you count it?” Beatrice asked.
Winnie nodded. “It’s almost ten thousand dollars.”
Beatrice let out a low whistle. “What was Letty doing with that kind of cash?”
Winnie shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe she really was dealing in stolen goods,” Amanda said. Her tone indicated she was heartbroken by the idea.
“Or maybe she was into money laundering,” Winnie said, equally dejected.
Beatrice really wanted to smack both of her sisters. “Are you out of your minds? She wasn’t a fence, and I’m certain she wasn’t in bed with the mob.”
“But—” Winnie held up the book filled with hundred dollar bills.
“She must have had a reason,” Beatrice insisted.
Her older siblings looked at her doubtfully.
“Maybe we didn’t really know her as well as we thought we did,” Winnie suggested.
Amanda shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”
“Then what the hell was going on?” Winnie asked.
The three sisters looked from one to another then back to the book.
“Should we tell Detective Keller about it?” Winnie asked.
“No!” Amanda and Beatrice yelled in unison.
The dog barked, adding his two cents.
Amanda frowned. “If we do that, the detective might throw the book at us.”
The dog yipped fearfully.
Amanda turned and surveyed the store. “What if other merchandise is hot?”
“Hot?” Winnie mocked.
“Stolen.”
“I know what you meant. It was just funny to hear you say it.”
“Don’t make fun,” Amanda warned. “This is our inheritance. What if we’ve inherited a life of crime?”
A knock at the door startled all three. They spun toward the sound guiltily.
Winnie slammed the book shut and ran upstairs with it.
Amanda moved slowly across the store to let Sandy, the picker, in.
Beatrice could hear the fake cheeriness in her voice as she asked the woman, “Did you bring us more Fiestaware?”
Sandy shook her head. “Letty wanted a new mannequin and I found one. I wasn’t sure if you’re still interested?”
“We are,” Beatrice said when Amanda looked back at her, a question shining in her eyes.
“We could use one to stick in the front window.” Beatrice pointed at the spot where it could be displayed.
Sandy nodded her approval. “That’s exactly what Letty wanted it for. I didn’t carry it in because I wasn’t sure,” the picker continued. She looked to Amanda. “Can you give me a hand with it? It’s not heavy, but it is a little bulky to maneuver.”
Amanda nodded and followed her outside.
Beatrice muttered out loud, “Letty is not a thief.”
“It sure looks like she was,” Pim said.
42
After completing the transaction with Sandy regarding the mannequin, and hearing her tell a story about how Letty had once broken an arm off her other mannequin by trying to show Sandy how to perform a tango move, it was time to close up the store.
Once they’d locked up, the sisters gathered around the cash register.
“What are we going to do?” Winnie asked.
“We’re definitely not going to call the cops,” Amanda insisted.
“We should probably hide the money,” Beatrice suggested.
“Where?” Amanda asked.
Beatrice looked around the store and pointed to the bookshelves. “No one reads anymore, so chances are it won’t be found if we hide it in plain sight.”
“I read,” Amanda declared indignantly.
“She was joking,” Winnie told her. “We all know that you’re the bookworm of the family.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Amanda said, sniffing haughtily.
“I put the cookbook back where I found it,” Winnie said. “It’s in the pantry, next to the kitchenette, underneath a bag of flour.”
“That sounds good,” Amanda said. “Nobody would ever look for anything valuable underneath flour.”
Beatrice and Winnie exchanged a look, unsure whether their older sister was teasing them, or absolutely serious about that strange statement. They both shrugged and let it go.
“We still have to figure out what Letty was up to,” Winnie said. “We can’t just let this go uninvestigated.”
“Let me try to see if I can see anything in the prints again,” Beatrice suggested.
“What do you mean?” Winnie asked.
Beatrice pointed to the prints that had been left on the counter. “Ash brought those. He said Letty had them made for him. When I touched them earlier, I got a vision.”
“Of what?” Amanda asked.
“Peabody’s AA painting.”
Amanda looked at Beatrice. “You think the prints hold a clue?”
She shrugged. “Not the prints, exactly, but the vision I get when I touch them.”
She understood the confusion in Amanda’s eyes, because she didn’t really understand it herself. “It’s like I’m transported to wherever she was.”
“And she was at the place where these prints were?” Amanda asked.
Beatrice shook her head. “I don’t think so…”
Amanda tilted her head to the side for a moment, considering. “Then how do you know that it’s a vision and not just your imagination?”
Beatrice shrugged. She didn’t think it would help to explain how it physically felt different. “I really don’t understand what all of this is. Maybe we should ask for Harmony’s help.” She reached for the prints. The moment her fingers touched the paper, she was transported away.
She was back in the gallery, back at the point where Letty experienced outrage as she stared at the price tag of the Astahov painting.
A man spoke to her from nearby, but Beatrice couldn’t see him.
“It’s a beautiful piece, isn’t it?” the man asked.
Letty frowned. “I’m the one that sent Peabody here,” she told the man. “You gave him two hundred dollars for it.”
“I
did.”
“And you’ve got it listed for twenty-five hundred,” she accused, pointing at the tag.
“A man’s got to understand the cost of doing business,” he replied smoothly.
“That’s the kind of mark-up the devil gets.” With that, Letty spun on her heel and stalked away. On the way out, she passed the oil painting of the Red Bug Slough pond Bea had seen before.
Letty’s shock jolted Beatrice out of the vision.
Bea blinked, trying to focus on her real world surroundings. Amanda and Winnie were watching her worriedly.
“Are you okay?” Amanda asked.
“It’s kind of spooky how you space out like that,” Winnie said.
Beatrice quickly told them what she’d seen.
“So, maybe Peabody thought that she’d been in cahoots with the dealer and shorted him?” Amanda suggested.
“Cahoots,” Winnie mocked.
“That’s not how he acted,” Beatrice pointed out, feeling the need to defend the strange little man.
“Well, the guilty never act guilty,” Winnie snapped back.
“So, Peabody may be a suspect,” Beatrice began. “And then we have Amber Axelrod, Mr. Perkins, and Beth the birdbath lady.”
“Apparently, Letty had a number of enemies,” Winnie remarked.
“She didn’t have any enemies,” Amanda remarked. “Just because people have a disagreement, doesn’t make them enemies.”
“Yeah, look at us,” Beatrice interjected drily.
“And you’re going to tell us she wasn’t a thief,” Winnie challenged. “Except here’s the thing, she was in possession of stolen goods and has a buttload of cash upstairs hidden away. That doesn’t look like an innocent person.”
Amanda’s hand went to her chest, as though she couldn’t breathe, as Winnie spoke, then without warning, she jumped up and rushed out of the store. The bell over the door jangled, signaling her exit.
“What is wrong with you?” Beatrice raged. “You didn’t have to upset her like that.”
Winnie shook her head. “You know what the problem is,” Winnie countered. “I’m the only realistic one here.”
Beatrice shook her head. “You’re not realistic,” she said quietly. “You’re pessimistic.” She rolled her wheelchair away.
“Now you’re running away, too?” Winnie called after her.
