by Jessica Beck
“Suzanne, where’s your mind right now?” Grace asked me, bringing me suddenly out of my reverie.
“I was just thinking about donuts,” I admitted.
My best friend laughed. “Boy, you certainly are a gal with a one-track mind, aren’t you?”
“Guilty as charged,” I said with a grin. “Let’s go see Kerry Minter.”
“I hope she’s more pleasant than the earlier folks we spoke with on Annabeth’s list,” Grace said.
“They could hardly be any worse, could they?”
“I’m guessing we’re playing this straight up, right?” Grace asked.
“I don’t know. I was thinking about buying some basic art supplies while we’re there,” I admitted.
“Just to get her to talk to us?”
“That’s part of it, but being around Annabeth’s artwork again has inspired me. Maybe it’s not too late for me after all.”
“You know about Grandma Moses, don’t you?” Grace asked me with a grin. “If she wasn’t too old to start painting, you shouldn’t be.”
“Thanks so much for comparing me to a grandmother,” I said dryly.
“You know what I mean,” Grace replied. “I think it’s wonderful. In fact, I’ll buy your first painting, sight unseen.”
It was my turn to laugh. “I doubt it will be worth purchasing,” I admitted. “It’s been quite a few years since I picked up a paintbrush.”
“In this, as in all things, I have faith in you.”
“I’m glad at least one of us does,” I said as I took a deep breath and opened my car door. “Here goes nothing.”
The parking lot had held several vehicles, but I wasn’t sure if they were abandoned or if folks were parking there and shopping other places, because the massive store was nearly deserted when we walked in. A neat woman in her forties wearing a bright-red smock approached us the second we were inside the door. I didn’t even have time to take in the aisles and aisles of materials, offering every medium I knew and a few I didn’t recognize. She even stocked supplies for crafts as well. There were sections for card making, soap making, candle making, and more, and I wondered if she’d needed to expand her selection to keep her shop afloat.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” she said with a practiced smile. “Was there something I could help you with today?”
“I’m looking to get back into painting,” I said.
“Marvelous,” she said as though I had just declared that I was going to give her a million dollars. “What medium would you like to tackle first, or would you like basic supplies for oil, watercolor, chalk, pencil, and more?”
“Let’s just start with some beginner’s watercolor supplies,” I said. “My budget is a little limited at the moment.”
“You’re in luck. We’re having a sale,” she said, as though the sheer coincidence of my visit was the luckiest thing I could have done today. As she led us to the watercolor section, she asked, “If the question isn’t too nosy, may I ask what made you decide to start painting again?”
“An artist friend of mine just died, and I realized just how much I missed it. Did you know Annabeth Kline?” I asked her, watching her expression carefully.
At the mention of Annabeth’s name, the woman took a small step backward, accidently knocking down a display of prestretched canvases and easels. “How clumsy of me,” she said as she started to collect the fallen items.
Grace and I joined in. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” I said.
“You didn’t. I just wasn’t expecting the connection between you. It was such a shame what happened to Annabeth,” she said, turning her back to us to collect a few easels that had managed to clatter away from the main pile.
“Did you know her, too?” I asked.
“A bit,” Kerry Minter said absently.
“Really? I thought you’d know her better than that,” Grace pushed as we all stood.
“I suppose I did, as much as anyone really knew Annabeth,” the art supply dealer said. “The truth of the matter is that I knew her better than most folks did who are claiming otherwise. You said you were friends with her?”
“Grace and I went to school with Annabeth,” I admitted. “We knew her most of her life.”
“Then there’s no harm in admitting to you that we were more than just acquaintances. She and I had coffee once a month before I opened the store, as long as we didn’t have anything else pressing going on. I was more than a little bit envious of her talent, truth be told. That would put me in the majority around here, though. Some of her contemporaries were more than a little smitten with the green-eyed monster.”
“Can you think of anyone in particular?” I asked. It seemed like an innocuous enough question, given the way she’d led our conversation in that direction.
“I hate to talk out of turn,” Kerry said. “After all, some of them are good customers of mine, and others have a direct interest in the local art world. I don’t know if you realize it, but in many ways it’s just like junior high school. There are the cool kids, the smart kids, the goof-offs, and all of the rest.”
“Which group did Annabeth fit into?” Grace asked. It was an excellent question, one I wished that I’d thought to ask myself. Well, that was why there were two of us.
“She was the rare bird who could flit from group to group without any problem,” Kerry said. “In a way, it made her that much more of a target among her peers.”
It was clear the art supply owner wanted to say more, but discretion, and the potential loss of business, kept her from saying anything else. I decided it was time to share a little of our experiences. Maybe it would get her to loosen her own tongue. “We’ve spoken with Galen already. We ran into her at the Marcast gallery. She wasn’t a fan of Annabeth’s, and neither was Martin Lancaster, from the way he acted. You could almost see the man’s eyes light up when he talked about the increased value of Annabeth’s art, but that seemed to be the only thing he was passionate about.”
“That man has a cash register for a soul,” she said grimly, “and as for Galen, Annabeth had more talent in her little finger than Galen does in her entire body. What’s worse, she knew it better than anyone. If Galen just spent as much time on her art as she has on trying to tear her contemporaries down, she might just manage to make something of herself.”
“Bonnie Small must have thought a lot of her ability,” I said. “We ran into her at Annabeth’s studio, and Bonnie seemed to be her biggest fan.”
Kerry shook her head. “Bonnie managed to dupe a handful of people into signing with her, promising riches and renown, but she failed to deliver on any of them in a rather spectacular fashion.” Lowering her voice for a moment, she added, “Annabeth was leading a revolt of her clients. She was leaving, and she had just about convinced Christopho Langer to leave as well. Everyone knows that whatever Christopho does, Galen soon copies. She’s had a crush on him forever, but he’s only ever had eyes for Annabeth.” She almost said that last bit wistfully, and I had to wonder if Galen was the only woman who had a crush on Christopho.
“Were they dating?” I asked, wondering why I’d never heard about it if it were true. I’d thought Annabeth and I were still close, but it was clear by what I’d learned today that it wasn’t all that true anymore.
“No, not that Christopho didn’t keep trying. She kept turning him down, though. I don’t know why he didn’t choose to go after a woman a bit more accessible to him. Annabeth told me the last time we got together that he was getting to be a bit of a nuisance, and she was going to have to say something to him. I didn’t envy her that. I’m fairly certain that Christopho isn’t used to getting turned down, especially repeatedly by the same woman.”
There was something in the way she said his name that set off alarm bells in my head. I decided not to question my gut and pursue it. “Did you two ever date?”
&nbs
p; Kerry actually blushed a little as she answered, “We went out a few times in high school, but after that, we decided that we’d be better off as friends.”
Based on her reaction, I had to wonder if it had been her decision to change their relationship or his. I was willing to bet everything in my bank account, even now that it was brimming over with money from Emma and Sharon’s generosity, that it had been Christopho’s idea. Could Kerry have been jealous of more than Annabeth’s talent? Or was it possible that Christopho had grown tired of Annabeth’s rejections, and he’d lashed out at her, literally? The deeper we dug into this mess, the more convoluted it became.
Kerry Minter seemed to realize that she’d told us much more than she’d originally intended, because a mask seemed to fall over her face as she pointed to a nearby aisle. “Everything you need is right here. Now, let’s get you started.”
As I started to pick up a basic set of brushes, paints, paper, and more, Grace and I kept trying to engage Kerry about Annabeth and her other clientele, but she continued to shut us down. I was about to give up when the front door opened, something we all knew instantly because of the bell in back. I hadn’t heard it when we’d first walked in, and I had to wonder if Kerry had installed it back there to tell her she had visitors when she was working in the back or maybe even the storeroom.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she said the moment she spotted her visitor.
“Wow, did you see her light up just now?” Grace asked me softly. “I’m willing to bet that is the great Christopho himself.”
“No bet,” I said. “Let’s go introduce ourselves.”
“Are you really going to buy all of that?” Grace asked me as she surveyed my supplies.
“I know it’s a lot, but I can swing it.”
“Why don’t you let me do it? I wasn’t able to get you anything for Christmas, since you weren’t here, so I’d love it if you’d let me do it.”
“That would hardly be fair, since I didn’t get you anything, either,” I reminded her.
“You came home,” Grace said. “That’s the only present I wanted. Besides, if I buy these supplies for you, you’ll feel obligated to use them.”
“True enough,” I said. “Still, I can’t ask you to do this.”
“Suzanne, you’re not asking. Tell you what. Either let me pick this tab up, or I’ll come back later and buy you a gift card for more than you’ll spend today. It’s your call.”
I had to laugh, since I knew it was an argument that I wasn’t going to win. “On one condition,” I said.
“That I get that first painting?” she asked eagerly.
“Goodness no, I’ll probably burn it the second I finish it. No, I get to buy you something for Christmas, too.”
Grace frowned for a moment, and I could hear that Kerry and Christopho were both raising their voices. “Think about it,” I said as I hurried up front. I wanted to get close enough to eavesdrop but not so close that they knew we were listening. It was a fine line we were dancing, but we’d done it before, albeit with varying degrees of success.
“I don’t see why you won’t have lunch with me, Chris,” Kerry said plaintively. “It’s not like it’s a date or anything. It’s just two old friends catching up, commiserating about the loss of a mutual friend.”
“She was more than that to me, and you know it,” Christopho said. I was getting tired of referring to this man by such a pretentious name. I’d try to call him “Christopho” to his face, but in my mind, he was going to be “Chris” from here on out.
“I know that, but you have to move on with your life. It’s not like you were ever going to get anywhere with her, anyway.” The last bit had been a blow to the artist, and she realized her mistake as soon as she’d made it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t what I meant.”
“I’m finished here,” Chris said.
He turned to leave, and Grace and I quickly followed him out of the store.
At least that’s where we were heading until Kerry put a hand on my shoulder and stopped me dead in my tracks.
Chapter 12
“Where exactly do you think you’re going?” she asked me icily.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, trying to break free. For an art supplies dealer, the woman had the grip of an arm wrestler.
“Not with my supplies you’re not,” she said.
I’d honestly forgotten I was still holding them. I thrust everything into her hands and then I headed for the door. “We’ll come right back.”
“This will all be waiting for you at the counter when you do,” she said firmly.
I couldn’t really blame her. She was just trying to protect her inventory, but Grace and I had an angry artist to catch up with before he managed to get away.
“Excuse me, are you Christopho?” I asked as Grace and I rushed over to his vehicle, an old beat-up station wagon that was at least fifty years old. I was amazed that it even still ran, based on the rough condition of its exterior. If the flakes of rust hadn’t been holding it together, I wasn’t sure it would be able to make it out of the parking lot.
“No autographs, ladies. I’m sorry, but there’s somewhere I need to be.”
The man certainly had a massive ego if that’s the first thing he assumed when we called him by name. He was good looking, tall and fit, but he wasn’t exactly a movie star. “We were friends with Annabeth Kline,” I said simply.
That stopped him in his tracks. “Do I know you two?”
“I sincerely doubt it. I’m Suzanne, and this is Grace,” I said.
“As a matter of fact, I’ve heard of you both,” he said.
“Seriously?” I asked. Sure, I was famous in some circles for my donut-making skills, and Grace was a legend within her company, but there was no reason on earth this man should have ever heard of either one of us. And then I got it. “Annabeth mentioned us to you, didn’t she?”
“A few times,” he admitted. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said sympathetically.
“And we’re sorry for yours,” I echoed.
“Did Annabeth ever talk to you about me?” he asked, as eager as a new puppy wanting to please its new family.
“She mentioned you once or twice,” Grace said. I looked askance at my friend. I knew that Annabeth had never mentioned the man’s name to me before, but then I realized that she might have loosely been referring to the notes our late friend had left us. I supposed that counted as a mention in a way.
“What did she have to say?” he asked sincerely.
“Only that you were a person standing alone in the field,” she replied. While it was true that Chris’s box had been a bit away from the others, I thought she was really stretching the truth saying that, but I wasn’t about to correct her.
“She was a fine artist, a good woman, and a dear friend,” he said.
“I understand you were interested in more than friendship with her,” I answered.
“Why? What did she tell you?” the artist asked, his gaze narrowing a bit as he asked.
“Just that you were interested in pursuing more,” Grace added. “That’s what Kerry confirmed as well earlier.”
“Kerry Minter talks too much,” Chris said. “It’s going to get her into trouble one of these days, and everyone knows it. With all of the online art supply shops there are today, she’s a dying breed.”
“But you aren’t denying the facts, are you?” Grace probed a little harder.
“So I had a crush on her. Big deal. She said she wasn’t interested in pursuing it, so I finally got the hint and dropped it. We were friends, above and beyond anything else.” He paused a moment before adding, “Did I think she might change her mind someday? Sure, where there’s life, there’s hope. We squabbled about it a bit from time to time, but in the end, we were friends, and that was what really mattered to both of us
. Whether anything could have ever happened between us is something we’ll never find out now. I’d like to take that ladder she slipped on and break it into a thousand pieces.”
“When was the last time you saw her?” I asked. “Was it in her studio?”
The artist looked askance at me, and perhaps I’d pushed a little too hard with my questions, but blast it all, we had to ask if we expected answers. “Annabeth was very protective about her workspace,” he said.
“That doesn’t exactly answer either one of our questions,” Grace reminded him firmly.
“Have a good evening, ladies,” he said, and then he got into his decrepit station wagon and, to my surprise, actually managed to drive away.
“We seem to make friends wherever we go, don’t we?” Grace asked me with a grin after he was gone.
“I didn’t know that was what we were trying to do,” I said as I glanced back at the door of Artie’s. “Hey, when did that happen?”
“What’s that?” Grace asked as she pivoted to look at the door as well. Instead of saying Open as it had before, it now announced that they were Closed. “How are we going to get your watercolor starter kit now?” Grace inquired.
“I suppose we’ll have to come back another time,” I replied. “I wouldn’t mind taking another shot at Kerry Minter after we’ve gathered a bit more information on her, anyway.”
