by Maggie Ryan
Wandering around to look at partially finished works in the room, he asked, “And your art show entry?”
“Monday, I’ll do my usual routine, and then leave my entry in their safe. I know it sounds odd that I’m so easy with everything else in my life but my art is a part of me. I’m kind of a stickler for the things concerning it.”
“I need to ask again, could there be something with your art, maybe this piece that has someone wanting to get at it. Even try to steal it?”
“I just don’t have any idea who. People from all over the state compete and this year it’s here at Eagle’s Landing. Also, no one knows what the subject of my painting is or anything about it.”
“But it’s your art, and that says something. Is there a big prize for winning?”
“Yes, the winning piece gets $5,000 plus the artist donates the original to their chosen charity. That, in turn, gives the artist a fair market value deduction on taxes, print rights, and lots of free publicity. It always brings in numerous invitations to bid and offers for commissioned pieces.”
“Wow, it’s big business then and a boost to your career.”
She nodded.
“So why do you say you might not do it after this year?”
“Because I’m almost swamped now with commission requests and offers to bid for pieces private and public. I need to find a balance with my work. More work isn’t the answer. Maybe it’s time for someone else to win. I’ve won three out of seven years.”
“That’s incredible. Where do you sell your art?”
“I sell it privately, from inquiries to my web page or the one exclusive local gallery. I learned that if I’m exclusive, then I gain a higher price for my art. My friend who owns Waterfront Gallery gets a good commission, and my work is valued higher.”
“You weren’t kidding when you said you made a good living. You know one of the bigger cities like Seattle or even Anchorage would give you more exposure.”
Her head shook vehemently. “Because here is where I get my inspiration, and I don’t need more exposure. I love this town and how we stick together to help each other no matter what. When things get tough, we rally around. It’s why I like to be on the arts council and why I’m on the borough assembly. It’s the reason I always buy Girl Scout cookies, donate to youth court, and go to the community picnic every June.”
Tristan nodded. “I’ve never been so comfortable in a town before, not even the one I grew up in.”
Willow leaned into him as he drew her to his chest. “Tristan, I want my future children, if I’m blessed with any, to feel as though they belong. I want them to clean the beaches and swim in the ocean with friends. I want to go hiking with them and fishing for food, pick berries and help at the soup kitchen.” She paused a moment and then continued.
“It’s also why I’m afraid to settle into a relationship with you. You might want to leave, and it would break my heart if I left here for good. It would also be devastating if you left without me.”
“That painting is you, isn’t it? Your idea of your future family, how it would be with them on your beach. And why you’re hurt that someone would break into your place.”
“Yes,” she whispered into his shirt.
“Well, honey, I promise we’ll find who's doing this and figure out all the other things that worry you about this relationship because I’m determined it will happen. Yeah?” He leaned in to kiss Willow gently. “Thank you for telling me all of this. It helps me to understand things so much better.” He kissed her again more possessively only pulling away to draw breath. “Now, let’s see what I have for dinner, shall we?”
They spent the rest of the weekend learning about each other, cuddling and going for a walk along the beach behind the house. They made dinner together and watched a comedy on TV before again going to separate rooms for the night where sleeping was becoming harder and harder. He needed to get these break ins solved so he could make this a more permanent arrangement.
Sunday night had warmed up, bringing in the rain instead of more snow, which was typical for the area. Slush abounded. It was worse than snow and messier than rain. He had come in drenched to the skin with frigid water in his regulation shoes. Willow giggled and pointed to rubber boots of all sizes in her mudroom.
He tweaked her nose and swatted her bottom. “Now you tell me?”
After breakfast, they started out the door. Tristan turned to kiss Willow.
“I’m in the community today so check in, and if it works out, we’ll have lunch together at Casey’s, all right?”
“That would be nice. Call me after eleven, and I should know if I can.”
“Okay, be careful. Drive in slow.” He was trying to suggest it to Willow, but it sounded more like a demand. He just couldn’t help but worry about her.
“Yes, Dad,” she teased. In answer, Tristan delivered a toe-curling kiss and a stingy bottom swat for her cheekiness. She licked her lips and melted into him when he massaged the burn into something much achier. She groaned her arousal that blended with his frustrated moan.
“This is why I need to solve this case.” She could hear the raspy quality of arousal in his words. “You are my Achilles’ heel.” he grabbed one last hard kiss, waved as he strode to his truck and pulled out of the drive.
Tristan had already locked up the house and carried her art out to the car in a huge leather portfolio that more than held the 24” x 36” painting. She grabbed her appropriate bag for the day, her purse, and pulled out of the driveway with an ache and a smile.
“Hey, Freida, how many entrants do we have?” asked Willow as she brought in her piece.
“You’re perky today. I think we’re up to over a hundred and thirty, now. Come into my office while I fill out the paperwork and see your masterpiece. Can we hold off on the picture until I finish the paperwork?”
“Shh. I don’t want anyone else knowing I take pictures because it will lessen the surprise factor if someone does steal one of my works. Besides, since we only have a distinctive mark and no signatures except on cards until after the show, it makes it hard to leave it unprotected. Besides,” she added, “I’ve gotten paranoid since the break-ins.”
“I read about them in the paper. Nothing was taken? No one hurt?”
“No one hurt, thank goodness. The biggest thing taken was my sense of safety.”
“I know it makes it hard to relax and I have requested they review the rules on this issue. Okay, take your picture first. I really don’t know who you think would dare touch your piece, but I don’t want you nervous.”
Photos taken and paperwork finished, they continued on to the vault to place her entry inside. Trooper Matheson’s sister Amy rounded the corner.
“Hi, Amy. Have you brought your entry for the Art of Alaska Show yet?”
“No. Someone stole mine last night. Can you believe it?” asked Amy.
“Oh no. You should call the troopers, they’re investigating my break-ins,” offered Willow. “How odd that we’re both entering the contest and both were broken into. Did they ransack your place?”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“The same thing happened to me.”
“I called my brother after it happened and he came over but, well, it’s so close to the deadline that if they don’t find it in good condition soon, it won’t matter.”
“I’m so sorry.” Willow checked her watch. “I need to go, but I’ll keep my eyes and ears open and mention it to Tristan.”
“He's the someone from Friday?” asked Amy.
“Right, Trooper Hart, you know the new investigator who is sharing quarters with Jon. He must have mentioned it.”
“Oh, oh yes, I think he did. Are you dating Trooper Hart?”
“I believe that’s what we’re doing. Some days I’m not sure what to call it but we’re definitely together,” Willow laughed, and stepped back for Freida to close the vault door. The two women walked out of the room talking about some program the schools were putting
on leaving Amy to follow behind them.
Realizing she had not received a call from Tristan, Willow checked her phone and saw a text message confirming their date. He must have been pretty busy. Eagerly, Willow headed off to the Coffee Cache for lunch. She had been visiting with Casey when her friend was called to the back to fix some problem. When Tristan walked in the café, he scanned the room and smiled a sexy little smile when he saw her. Willow’s tummy flip-flopped.
He was in civilian clothes and the rain had started in earnest so the snow and sleet were gone, but the ground was as saturated as muskeg. He tried to scrape his Xtra-tuffs on the mat before walking to her table. One of the commercial fishermen who recommended boots to him raised his thumb in approval as he walked past. Tristan reciprocated.
Willow felt her heart swell at the sight of him and his beginning comradery with the locals. They had chatted about lunch choices before Tristan asked about her morning.
“I’ve got some juicy gossip.” Willow eagerly filled him in on the events of the morning.
“I don’t like gossip but have learned it’s very useful in my line of work. However, you shouldn’t engage in it. Often.” He smiled. “Are you sure you heard her right because there aren’t reports about this over the weekend.”
“She said she called her brother, Jon Matheson. It seems to me there is a connection. I mean, we’re both artists, both entering the contest, both on the Art Council. Don’t you think that is enough similarities to suggest something?”
“Plenty, honey, it does concern me that she didn’t report it. I’m going to stop by the station when I get a chance today and try to catch Jon before he goes off duty.”
Chapter 5
Willow threw her mail on the desk, ran to grab her cell off the counter, and couldn’t understand who was talking. Darn, cell booster wasn’t all-powerful and sometimes even it didn’t work in catching the signal. It was Tristan’s number so she reached over to call from her landline but got voicemail.
“Probably leaving me a message,” she mumbled to herself. Her house phone rang, and it was Freida.
“Willow, come to the art council office. I have some fascinating information to share with you. I’m not sure how to handle it, but it involves you so it would be better if you come help me sort it out.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ll tell you when you get here.”
“I’m on my way. Be there in half an hour.”
Anxiety knotted Willow’s stomach. She had a bad feeling about all this. Just as she drove past the trooper station and headed to the council office, she got another cell call from Tristan.
“So that’s why I couldn’t talk, the signal didn’t make it through. I need to give you my landline for times like that.”
“Yes, it’d be a good idea. Anyway, I wonder if you could go into the station and talk to Jon. I spoke to him about what you told me, and he said his sister never called this weekend.”
“That’s odd, but I can’t right now. Frieda asked me to come to the council offices. Something is up.”
“Do you want me to meet you there? I’m on the other side of town, but I can weave my way to you.”
“Oh, I don’t want to overreact. If I needed law enforcement, I think Freida would have said something. I’ll let you know when I find out.”
“Well, if you’re sure. Don’t forget to call me as soon as you can. I’ll worry until you do. I’m not easy to deal with if I’m out of the loop. I’m even worse if I should be there, and you don’t call me.”
“I promise to call if I need to. Talk soon.”
“Stay out of trouble, Willow. Don’t get yourself in a bind. Call me if you need to, do you hear me?”
“I hear you, Tristan.” What a worrywart.
Freida quickly pulled Willow into her office and closed the door.
“What’s wrong?” Freida usually could handle all sorts of little disasters.
“Shh, I have something to tell you, but I don’t want to be overheard. I think she left but just in case.” Freida whispered and pulled Willow from in front of the office window. She reached over and locked the door.
“Now you have me spooked. Do I need to call Tristan?”
“No, no, I’m probably overreacting. After you had left, Amy came back in and said that the troopers found her entry near your house. She said she didn’t want to show it, but she’d put so much work into it, she didn’t see how she couldn’t.” Freida looked out of the window carefully, as though she were looking for someone.
“Anyway, after we finished the paperwork, I asked to see it, and she declined, saying she wanted it to be fresh for everyone. I said that was fine, but I thought it strange, you know. She always wanted to share her pieces before this.”
“Go on,” Said Willow checking the window herself.
“I was going to put it in the vault with the others when Amy received a phone call from her brother Jon. Whatever he said to her must have been upsetting because she was irritated after she got off the phone. She mumbled about you always coming out on top. I tried to laugh it off and offered to help her if she needed it, but she ignored me.”
“Oh, Freida, I’m sure you imagined it. She was probably unsettled by what her brother said, whatever that was. I just learned she might not have notified him about the break in, which is fishy. I mean, why lie about that? Go on, what happened next?” encouraged Willow.
“I went ahead and put Amy’s painting in the vault. Then after she left, I checked inside her entry sleeve out of curiosity. I know I shouldn’t, but I’m glad I did because it was your entry.”
“What? My painting? But how could that be, we put it in the vault this morning?”
“I don’t know, but I rushed over to pull out your entry sleeve, and some odd painting was in it, but it wasn’t what you had submitted. That was now in Amy’s entry sleeve.”
“Show me. I think Amy is gone now. She’s probably confident she has gotten away with it. What she doesn’t know is that Tristan already saw the entry, and I have photos of the painting in progress. She just doesn’t know how careful I am.”
They opened the office door and cautiously looked around before walking to the vault. While Willow watched for Amy, she found herself growing angrier. Just as Freida pulled her painting out of the sleeve, Amy came around the corner.
“What are you doing with my painting?” she shouted.
“It’s my painting, and you know it, Amy. What are you up to and how did you get it from the vault? And before you say you didn’t, I took a picture of Freida, the painting, and myself earlier so I had proof of entry.”
Amy seemed to squirm at the way she was so quickly caught. “You think you’re so clever, but stealing that painting was easy. I thought you might be sketching so I broke into your car and took the pad you had and your card from the camera.” For a moment, she looked so smug and then her face turned furious.
“It was you?” Willow took a step back in disbelief.
Amy nodded. “But then, Jon mentioned you didn’t have your real work in your car so I had to get into your house, didn’t I? You left your bedroom window unlocked. I climbed in and couldn’t find anything that looked like an entry.”
“You tore my house apart. Why?”
“You weren’t cooperating. I needed that entry. I tried one more time, but your boyfriend showed up. I was good at cross-country, and I still can run pretty well. That boyfriend of yours knew he couldn’t catch me. He didn’t even try.”
“That still doesn’t tell me how you swapped paintings,” said Willow.
“Simple. If I had known how painless it’d be, I wouldn’t have risked so much to get it. You two thought you were smart, closing the vault today but you didn’t wait until it closed. You were so caught up in yourselves and your gossip; you didn’t notice that I didn’t follow you out.” She seemed excited about her theft.
“I left my foot in the way to stop the door closing and slipped inside while you two were talking. I
replaced Willow’s painting with mine and put Willow’s in my portfolio. Then I had it ready to enter later when the troopers ‘found’ it. Smart, huh?”
“But you would have been caught out, you know,” said Willow. “I have photos and proof.”
Amy screamed her frustration, “Shut up. Just shut up. You always win, and it’s time I win. I should win.”
She reached into the fireplace tool stand. She grabbed a poker and swung it at the women. Willow immediately stood in front of Freida.
“Drop the poker, Amy. You don’t want to hurt anyone. It’ll be a big mess for you.”
“What do you care? You get everything you want. It isn’t fair that Willow Ash made a great name for herself and people like me don’t even get a chance. You overshadow everything I do. Are you happy? You even got the hot new investigator at my brother’s work.”
She swung the poker in front of her again. As she swept her arm back, Tristan stepped through a side door behind her and ttook it smoothly out of Amy’s hand. He tossed it away from them before grabbing her and cuffing her.
He looked accusingly at Willow. “You didn’t call me, young lady.”
“It happened so fast. I’m glad you’re here but how did you know?”
He placed Amy in a chair.
“I listened to my gut.” He pulled Willow into his arms. “City police should be here soon. This is city territory, but I couldn’t leave my best girl to battle it out alone against a poker, now could I?” He smiled.
“Your best girl? I had better be your only girl,” she proclaimed as she snuggled in.
“Forever.” Tristan pulled Willow into his arms and reassured her with a kiss.
Against Tristan’s advice, Willow decided not to press charges. The state took the charges up and demanded Amy donate one hundred hours to teaching art in the schools. She was banned from further art competitions for five years. The Art Council advertised for another to take her seat.
Willow sighed as she snuggled into Tristan’s arms on their sofa. Tristan had been spending a lot of time there these days. “I’m glad the whole mess is behind us, even if we never found that second runner you saw.”
