Kill Them with Canvas, page 22
“Do you really think I’d let you go alone?” Her voice squeaked. When the guests sitting near us stared, Izzie burbled out a hiccup and gave them an apologetic smile. Her head snapped around, and she cupped one hand around her mouth. “Sisters shouldn’t desert each other. Wasn’t that what you told me this past summer? And you’re right. If you go, I go, even if I think it’s dangerous.”
I sighed. “We’ll be fine. We can hide in the car, or behind something, and wait for one of them to show up, if you want.” I eyed Aunt Constance as she walked in, followed closely by Marilyn. In another minute, Sarah entered the shop.
The clock inched closer to six thirty. We had decided to schedule this event a little earlier, since most everyone had plans to sit by the lake with their binoculars and cameras this evening, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Chautauqua ghost, Abigail Bellows. Even though the legend claimed she wouldn’t appear until Hallows Eve, folks were hopeful. And after Rita had spread the rumors that she’d seen the ghost lady floating across the lake on the day of our Autumn Sizzle painting event, the excitement had grown.
I joined Izzie and Willow to circulate around the room and personally greet everyone. The three of us agreed to do our best to keep eyes on Marilyn and Sarah, in case either acted or did something suspicious. I doubted they would with so many people in the room, but considering the phone calls we’d made, they might be nervous and not able to keep their emotions in check.
I stepped nearer to where Sarah stood talking to another sister member. She was extending her hand to show off the engagement ring on her finger.
“Wink is such a generous man. I mean, would you look at the size of this rock? I couldn’t be luckier.” As if someone had suddenly turned off her happy button, she scowled when Marilyn walked by with Aunt Constance. “Would you look at those two? The queen of our now defunct Sisterhood and her shadow. How pathetic.”
I rolled my eyes and stepped up to the stage once more. I’d keep my focus on Marilyn instead—or, I should say, on Aunt Constance and Marilyn, because Sarah was right. They were practically glued together. From the look of her pinched lips and narrowed eyes, I doubted Aunt Constance was happy about the situation. Marilyn seemed clueless as she handed her idol a cup of apple cider and a donut. Then, glancing side to side, as if to see no one was watching, she popped something in her mouth and chewed slowly. My brow creased. What was that about?
Izzie returned to the stage and tapped her paint brush. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would please take your seats, we’ll get started.”
I held up the sketching pencil. “We’re going to use the sketching pencils to lightly outline our pumpkins on canvas. Like this.” I drew the round shape while Izzie and Willow visited each guest to assist where needed.
With each step, the pumpkin paintings took form, and each had its own unique style, bedazzled with a choice of preferred trimmings. The clock inched closer to eight and the time to wrap up the event. “Before you leave, be sure to use one of the blow-dryers on your works of art. You won’t want to decorate your car seats with all that glitter and paint.” I stepped down from the stage and grabbed a couple of wet wipes to clean my hands, then took a sip of apple cider. I choked and sprayed some on my apron. Sarah had approached Aunt Constance, who was engaged in conversation with Willow. However, Marilyn stepped in to block Sarah’s way. Each bobbed from side to side. Like an offensive lineman and a defensive tackle, Marilyn blocked and Sarah tried to get past her. In the next second, Marilyn and Sarah were nose to nose, their faces red as beets and mouths moving faster than I’d ever seen anyone talk. Before I could approach, Aunt Constance turned and her jaw dropped. She stepped between them, her hands splaying to force them apart, until Sarah stomped out of the shop.
“Hey! You want to get started on cleanup?” Izzie called out from behind me.
I waited until Marilyn and Aunt Constance, trailing behind all the others, finally left. “Sure.” I picked up one of the trash cans and walked down each row, disposing of water cups and make-shift paper-plate palettes.
Willow approached as she collected brushes and placed them in the wash bin. “That Marilyn is such a snoot. I heard her say that most of the sisters are unfaithful and show no respect for your aunt, especially Sarah. No wonder most of them don’t like her.”
“They all might be jealous of her too. The way she keeps so close to Aunt Constance and cuts her off from anyone else.” I pivoted on my heel and pointed. “At least we know Sarah has issues with their relationship. Did you hear anything when the two of them were arguing? You were close by.”
Willow’s brows lifted. “Doesn’t sound like the Marilyn you described, right? I’m not sure why she would cause such a public scene. The only thing I heard was Marilyn telling Sarah to make an appointment and that this wasn’t the place or time for a gripe session. Sarah’s words were muffled by your aunt’s laugh until, the next thing I knew, she spun around and stopped what could’ve gotten ugly.”
I shuddered and glanced at the clock. “I don’t have time to figure it out. Maybe Marilyn’s outburst was triggered by whatever she popped in her mouth. Probably some kind of meds.”
“What meds? All I saw her munching on were peppermint candies.” Willow shrugged.
I stiffened. “Peppermint?”
“Yep. Say, didn’t you tell me the bag of candy delivered to your aunt was filled with peppermints?” Willow sat in one of the chairs.
I nodded. Marilyn didn’t fit the profile. Why would she send Aunt Constance a threatening message? She cared for her, admired her, and claimed she’d always protect her. I gasped and nearly dropped the cups and plates I held. Shoving them into the trash, I cringed as my head exploded with a possible scenario. Marilyn wanted to be needed. Aunt Constance had been targeted as a murder suspect and had been a hysterical mess ever since. Marilyn was by her side almost every minute, to comfort and help her. In that way, Marilyn felt needed.
“What if Marilyn sent the candygram so Aunt Constance would stay afraid?” I blinked, wide-eyed, at Willow.
“I thought she liked your aunt. Why would she want her to keep being afraid?”
I shook my head and shrugged. “Some sort of sick obsession to be needed? I don’t know. Either she’s way too bold or totally oblivious, but engaging Sarah in an argument like that sure got my attention and my curiosity piqued.”
“Curiosity in thinking she sent the candygram? Or committed murder?”
“Maybe both, but we can’t forget Sarah is part of this equation.” I shuddered. Something bothered me. Something that didn’t add up. Marilyn didn’t seem the bold and reckless type. She was prim, proper, and precise. The message had smudge marks, like someone with dirty fingers had handled it. At the bakery, she’d pulled out a wet wipe to clean her hands before and after our meeting over coffee. Would someone like her leave a smudge-marked message?
As for the argument, Sarah seemed more like the type to instigate. Maybe she’d said something cruel to taunt Marilyn. What if she’d wanted to cause a scene to make us think Marilyn could have had an out-of-control moment and been angry enough to defend Aunt Constance by killing Viola? My head was spinning. If that’s the mood we were facing this evening, Izzie might be right. Maybe going to the dock was a risk.
Turning, I studied Willow’s puzzled face. “I want you to do something for me, okay?”
“Sure.” She frowned. “Why?”
“Just listen.” I lowered my voice. “I want you to go to the back room and then call for Izzie. Say you need help. That will give me a chance to sneak out.”
“But why? I thought you two were going to the ferry together.” Willow tilted her head. “Doesn’t sound safe, Chloe.”
I squeezed her arm. “Please, Willow. I can handle this, but I don’t want to take a chance of Izzie getting hurt. I couldn’t live with that. This is my plan and my risk. Now, will you do what I say?” My words and tone edged upward.
“Fine.” She sprang out of her seat. “Izzie will be so angry with you when she finds out, and with me too, most likely.” She threw up her arms. “Seriously, I get it. I mean after what happened with my brother this past summer, who am I to judge?”
“Thanks, Willow. You’re the best. One more thing. When she notices I’m gone, tell her I went out to the lake to give our parents and the Bixbys some of those leftover donuts and that I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Willow sighed. “Guess if I’m going to lie for you, it doesn’t matter if I tell more than one.”
I waited until she called for Izzie, then I tiptoed to the front, grabbed my jacket from behind the counter, and quietly slipped outside. The cooler night air bit my cheeks. I zipped my jacket and tucked both hands in my pockets to keep warm. Animated chatter echoed across the lawn as dozens of people anchored themselves to their chairs and gazed out at the lake. I spotted Mom, Dad, and the Bixbys sitting nearer the shore and huddled around the large propane heater Dad had purchased for such occasions. No campfires were allowed on this section of the lake.
I jogged up Whisper Lane and made a right turn onto the boulevard. A few hundred yards ahead, the ferry dock sustained its shadowy form, cloaked in the foggy night. The clocktower read ten minutes before nine. I sprinted the rest of the distance and tucked myself behind an oak tree to wait. The minutes ticked by, and I saw no sign of Marilyn or Sarah. I slouched against the tree trunk and moaned. The moment was turning into a boring police stakeout, not the dangerous situation Izzie or I had imagined. I stuck the flashlight back in my pocket. I’d been in such a hurry that I’d forgotten to bring the baseball bat, which remained leaning in the corner of the shop, next to the mini fridge behind the counter. So much for my intended defense, but in a good way, it looked like none was needed.
I turned to walk back to the shop and hitched my breath. Izzie rushed up, panting like she’d run all the way. The baseball bat I’d left behind was in her hand. “Izzie.” I braced myself, ready for the lecture. “Before you say what I figure you probably have a right to say, you should know neither one showed.”
She twisted her mouth and wagged her finger. “That was not fair. You left without me and I …” She hiccupped. “We were supposed to be in this together. Sisters united.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just—did Willow tell you about Marilyn? She’s more than a little disturbing. I can’t figure out whether she’s guilty, but she worries me. A lot. And then there’s Sarah. She probably started the argument with Marilyn, and I don’t trust her either.” I swallowed hard.
“I would put my bets on Sarah. Now that woman is the scary one.” Izzie seemed to relax.
“Sarah does have a mean streak. I’m not sure Wink realizes what he’s in for.” I chuckled. “I guess we might as well leave. Nothing happening here.”
“Or is there?” Izzie pointed a trembling hand behind me.
I turned to see a figure moving across the deck. Stocky and tall, which hinted that the person was a man. On the other hand, it could be a woman. Both Marilyn and Sarah were tall and thick through the middle. Both had worn pants to the painting event this evening. I gripped my flashlight and stepped toward the deck.
“Chloe, don’t you dare.” Izzie caught the bottom of my jacket and tugged. “It’s not safe.”
I pulled out of her grasp and glanced at the bat leaning against her leg. Quick as a wink, I took it from her and moved forward. “Maybe it’s Dewey, and he needs help. Just let me get a closer look. I won’t go too far.”
“Then why do you need the bat?” she hissed. “Chloe!”
I ignored her and tiptoed onto the deck. The shadowy figure disappeared. My comment to Izzie about Dewey being the one moving across the deck wasn’t just an excuse. He could have left his cabin hiding place and returned to Whisper Cove, but waited until night because he was still afraid of being arrested for Viola’s murder. I clenched the bat in both hands. There could be another reason he came back. Maybe he’d left a clue behind, some evidence that would convince Hunter that Dewey was indeed the killer.
Footsteps pounded off to my right. My head snapped around, and I fumbled to pull out my flashlight and turn it on. Nothing moved across the deck. No sign of Dewey or anyone else. I tiptoed over to the entrance of the shack structure and peered inside. This was where my brave moment came to a stop. If someone was hiding in there, I wasn’t about to let him or her ambush me.
“Chloe? If you don’t answer me, I’m coming after you. Just as soon as I pull my shoe out of this hole in the deck. Boy, will Dewey be mad when he sees the damage.”
I gasped at the sudden break in silence. The sound of Izzie’s voice, despite its throaty, whispered tone, carried through the air. I waved my flashlight at her. “Don’t bother.” There was no point in staying. We were done, and nothing had been accomplished. My shoulders slumped. It felt like Aunt Constance was doomed, and I couldn’t prevent it.
“Ouch!”
I froze. The mumbled cry had come from behind me and on the other side of the shack. I winced but took only a second to decide, then pivoted on my heel and sprinted toward the sound. Rounding Dewey’s hideaway, I viewed the deck, panning the area with my flashlight.
“What the—is anyone there? Dewey?”
At once, something warm and fuzzy covered my head. The bat in my hand dropped to the floor with a thud. I squirmed side to side as arms wrapped around my shoulders and held tight. With one hand pulled free, I yanked at the arms keeping me in their viselike grip and envisioned a kung fu move where I’d flip my captor and claim victory. The thought was short-lived when my legs seemed to roll forward as a forceful kick to the back sent me tumbling to the deck floor and landing on my face. Steps pounded as whoever had held me escaped. I sat up and threw off the covering to breathe the cool air. Blinking, I stared into Izzie’s terrified face and scowled.
“Please tell me you got a look at whoever did this.” I held up the wool blanket that had held me captive.
She huffed and crossed her arms while her foot tapped. “No. And what were you thinking? You could’ve been clobbered with something a lot worse than a blanket.” She blinked away tears and pulled me up into a fierce hug. “Thank goodness you’re okay. I can’t survive without my big sister.” She gave my arm a playful pat. “Don’t ever take a chance like that again. Okay?”
I brushed off my pants and nodded. “I’ll try not to.”
“Did you get a look at whoever was on the deck?”
“Nope, but it’s someone who’s good at playing hide-and-seek.” Frustrated and a little angry with myself for not being quick enough to catch my attacker put me in a foul mood. “Let’s go home. Willow can lock up the shop. I need a hot shower and a cup of cocoa before I collapse into bed.”
She squeezed my arm. “I’ll make the cocoa while you take your shower.”
We stepped off the deck and walked straight into Hunter. He was leaning against his vehicle, with arms crossed and wearing an angry face that looked scarier than those jack-o’-lanterns we’d carved.
I gasped. “Oh boy.”
Izzie anchored her hand on her hip. “H-hey, Hunter.”
“Ladies, why don’t you stick around so we can have a chat and catch up?”
Chapter Eighteen
Anyone surviving a long-winded lecture from an angry detective deserved a medal, especially when that detective had the name Hunter Barrett. Izzie and I kept quiet the whole time, or at least until he asked us what we’d found while carrying out our reckless plan. I took the full blame and insisted that Izzie had only come to the dock because she was worried about me. No points for Willow, who’d caved under pressure and spilled the details of what, who, when, and where. She couldn’t defend the why part—how we thought it was a great idea to catch the killer.
None of the talk with Hunter was pleasant, and that was on top of the fact that we’d gathered zero evidence. My recap of being attacked by a fuzzy blanket made me angry and embarrassed. I only wanted to put the whole incident behind me, but in a small town like Whisper Cove, any chance of that was nonexistent. I couldn’t rule out the possibility that someone had passed by and near the dock on their way home from an evening out. We would’ve been too caught up in our plan to catch a killer to have noticed. Besides that, Marilyn and Sarah might’ve talked to others about the “crazy person” who called and threatened them with blackmail. If it turned out they had nothing to do with Viola’s murder, why wouldn’t they talk? No doubt, our Hallows Eve celebration the next evening would bring whispered stares in our direction. I dreaded the idea of facing everyone, but we had to attend. Tradition trumped humiliation.
* * *
Without ruining my face paint, I wiggled my nose to satisfy an itch. Adjusting my wig of blonde curls, I leaned over to Izzie. “Did we have to add face paint to our costumes? I feel more like the Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz than a Sanderson sister. And are you sure this paint you bought doesn’t have latex in it? You know I’m allergic.” I was a nervous, agitated mess. After last night’s debacle, I just wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep for days.
“You gave me the idea. Remember? Besides, there’s nothing wrong with using a little creative license. And for the tenth time, no. There isn’t latex or any other sort of irritant. Stop fidgeting. That might help.” She tugged at my sleeve and winked. “You look adorable, Miss Sanderson. Witch becomes you. Ha. Get it? Witch puns are the best.”
“I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, but it’s not working. Also for the tenth time, I’m sorry I got you caught in the middle.”
I walked down the line to straighten the ghost paintings the sisters had brought to the event for our display. After all, a promise was a promise, even if it had only been a ploy to gather information.
“Aw, come on. You took the blame, and that’s more than I deserve. Remember, I did agree to your … um … brave scheme to catch a killer.”
