Read Portrait of a Dead Guy Online
Authors: Larissa Reinhart
Tags: #Mystery, #humor, #cozy, #Humour, #amateur sleuth, #Contemporary, #Romance, #cozy mystery, #murder mystery, #humorous mystery, #female sleuth, #mystery series
Portrait of a Dead Guy (3 page)
“How complex is a coffin?” He steepled his hands under his chin. “And we don’t need background details.”
“JB, don’t be cheap,” said Wanda. “Like Cherry said, we’re talking heirloom quality.”
“Who in the hell wants to inherit a picture of Dustin in a coffin, Wanda?” JB said. “Even if little Dustins start crawling out of the woodwork, and God help us if that happens, I’m sure none of them will want this painting. We can cut some corners, here.”
“Coffin portrait?” I said, swallowing hard. My mouth went dry, and I had trouble getting my tongue to form intelligible words. “I thought you’d want me to work from snapshots or something. Dustin standing in a field, looking off to heaven, that sort of thing.”
“Oh no,” said Wanda. “That would be phony. Dustin never would have stood in a field unless he was hunting, and I doubt he thought about heaven much.” She cast a quick look at her husband. “I want him as he is now. And realistic. None of that abstract stuff.”
I gulped. “As he is now.” The man was murdered. An abstract would be easier to stomach. Not like anyone would enjoy looking at David’s “The Death of Marat” in their TV room. “All right. Uh, do you want me to create a pose, or do you want the whole, um, coffin?”
“Could you paint it like we were looking down at Dustin? Like angels gazing?” Wanda’s moist blue eyes stared off into the distance and I shivered.
I grabbed my notebook and made a quick sketch. “Something like this?” I showed her the rough illustration of my idea.
“Oh, it’s just perfect,” she said, grabbing the sketchbook to shove at JB. “Let’s give Cherry a chance, honey. I really want this view. Shawna said she has an allergy to formaldehyde so she couldn’t paint Dustin this way.”
“Tell you what.” JB leaned forward, hands flat on the table. “I’ll give you a shot. I want Wanda to be happy after what all she’s endured with Dustin. He was my son and I owe her that.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, although my skin still prickled from the word formaldehyde.
“But,” he said, “you got to have the painting done for the funeral. The whole she-bang. Wanda can choose between you and Shawna, so you better make it good. She likes quality. After the funeral, I’m done. Wanda can hang up his picture and look at it all she wants, but I’m putting this whole blasted deal out of my mind. I’m paying off his creditors right and left, dealing with folks’ complaints, and living through the embarrassment of the way he went. Do you know what they are saying about him?”
I knew, but I sure wasn’t going to say. Folks thought a bad drug deal or payback from a robbery ring. Or someone just got tired of Dustin’s mouth and went postal on him. Hard to say with Dustin. There were so many crimes to choose from.
“I’ll work up a contract,” I said. “Thank you for this opportunity. I’ll get cracking right away and I’ll also do the memory box.”
“We’ll have Cooper set out the body for you then.” JB didn’t smile but I did see a flash of teeth. “Got to admire your tenacity, Cherry. I hate to say it, but stories I heard about your family made me question your reliability.”
A shot of heat worked its way from my toes to my scalp. People always bring up my family’s history over the years, but it never got any easier.
“My reputation is important to me. I am judged by my own actions as well as those that surround me. You know how people like to talk.”
“Yes, sir.”
He looked at me evenly. “I’m glad we agree on this issue. As a businesswoman, you have your own reputation to protect and a lot of history to overcome.”
A million comebacks crossed my mind, but none were appropriate for a bereaved father sitting in a funeral home with a large check that could have my name on it. I swallowed my pride and tried not to choke. “I’ll bring that contract by tomorrow.”
He had better keep his end of the bargain, because after that humiliation, I sure as hell wasn’t working for free.
I hustled out of the cramped conference room to find Cooper. Walking down the dim hallway, I glanced in the first room on the right. The wooden door rested open showing an office filled with oversized mahogany furniture and misty paintings of sunrises or sunsets. I’m never sure which they’re supposed to be.
I waved at Cooper who chatted with Will Thompson, our county coroner and sheriff, and one of my favorite men on the planet. But that’s a pretty short list.
“How are you, girl?” Will was a good friend of my grandpa. Will was about thirty years younger, a hundred pounds heavier, and a million times nicer than Grandpa, but they paired up better than sausage and biscuits.
“Hey, Uncle Will. How are you, Mr. Cooper?” I waltzed into his serenity-blue office to give Will a hug.
“What are you doing here, Cherry?” asked Cooper. “Get a time wrong for a visitation?”
“I’m here for the Bransons. And I need a favor. Did you hear about the painting they want?”
Cooper nodded. Will leaned back in a well-padded armchair and settled folded hands over the mounded expanse of his belly. Will had been a tackle for Georgia back in his prime. It worked to his advantage as sheriff, but I knew him as a big teddy bear.
“Did the Bransons talk to you about making the body available?” I asked.
Cooper pursed his lips. He almost perfected the art of masking his emotions except for the occasional tic that managed to escape.
“Why would the Bransons need the body available today?” Will questioned Cooper while watching me. “Visitation is tomorrow, isn’t it? Is your girl even done making him up?”
“She is,” said Cooper. “Originally, I assumed they wanted to spend extra time with the body. Happens occasionally. Then they started talking about having a,” Cooper coughed quietly into his hand, “memorial painting made.”
“Memorial painting?” said Will.
“Portrait of Dustin,” I said. “In his coffin.”
Bug-eyed, Will turned from Cooper to me. I rocked back on my heels, doing my best to keep a straight face. It wouldn’t do to have a Branson walk into the office with us hooting about their strange choice of commemorating their son. Will pulled himself together, but for a half a second I was sure he was going to fall out of his chair. “Good Lord.”
“Mr. Cooper. How’s this going to work? Please tell me I don’t have to visit your basement. I’m still shaking with the heebie jeebies as it is.”
“I can bring Dustin upstairs,” said Cooper. “His room is ready. But, honey, I thought some Branson was coming to do his picture.”
“I convinced Wanda and JB to let me try.” I couldn’t help a little smirk at competing for the job with Shawna. She was going to throw a big hissy. And I hoped I got to see it.
“Well, if you say so.” Creaking, Cooper rose from his wooden desk chair. “It’s your funeral.” He dry heaved a few chuckles. “That’s a little mortuary humor, hon.” A whoop of laughter burst from Will.
“Good one,” I said and pulled the curl out of my lip.
Cooper ambled out the office, heading for the basement morgue.
“You best get yourself together, Sheriff Thompson,” I said to Will and made a quick pivot to speed out of the office.
“Hang on a minute.” Will swung his considerable body around to face me. “Where you going?”
“I’ve got some sketching supplies in my truck.”
“I’ll walk with you. Let’s go out the back door.”
He rose, towering over me, and placed a large hand on the back of my neck. Like a dog on a leash, Will guided me through the hallway until we reached an arched doorway. After a glance down the hall, he hustled me through the door and into a kitchen. I shook free of his grip and crossed the room. Leaning my back against a formica counter, I waited for Will to say his piece.
“Just spit it out, Uncle Will,” I said. “I’m not walking clear around this house looking like you’re ready to shove me into a police car. Obviously, you got something to tell me.”
“You doing all right?”
“I’m okay. What’s going on?” I crossed my arms and met his look. Will didn’t usually worry about me. My siblings, Casey and Cody, were a whole different kettle of fish, though. Some days it felt like their good decisions were the exception to a lifetime of dumb moments.
“I mean for money.” Will shoved his hands into his pockets. “Why are you taking a crazy gig like this? Miss Wanda is a nice woman, but she has some different ideas about decorating. Did you hear about her having all those bushes cut like animals?”
“That’s topiary. What’s the big deal about that?”
“She had clothes made for them, too. What kind of woman dresses up hollies?”
“Don’t worry about me.” I relaxed off my previous attitude. “But every dollar helps. Art school wasn’t cheap. Although I’m glad to not live at the farm, Great-Gam’s house is a money pit. Today I found something oozing through the plaster in the living room wall. And you know about my truck. Besides, this portrait means doing what I really love, painting pictures of people. Even if the guy’s not breathing.”
“I’d help you if you’d let me.”
“Thank you, but I’m plenty old enough to take care of myself.” And if Casey and Cody heard I borrowed money from Will, they would forever be knocking at his door looking for handouts. “Grandpa didn’t raise me to take charity.”
Will grunted in affirmation.
“Now tell me about the murder.” I spied an electric kettle and a box of tea bags on the countertop. “You want some tea? It’ll take Cooper a minute to bring up Dustin.”
“No thanks, hon.” Will ran a hand over his thick salty-brown buzz. “I’m leading the investigation, of course. Still don’t have a number on what happened to him. That’s between you and me, now.”
“You got some suspects? Murder weapon?”
He stared at me stone-faced.
“Come on, Uncle Will. Give me something.”
“Girl, you know better than to mix our personal relations with my job.”
“That’s no fun.” I twisted around to lean over the counter, hunting for a mug in the cupboards. “For once, I’d love to be the first one to report some exciting news to Grandpa.”
“By news you mean gossip.” He reached over my head, snatched the mug on a shelf just out of my reach, and slid it onto the counter. “You kids are getting a little old to compete for Ed’s attention like that.”
I shrugged and dropped a tea bag into the mug. “Speaking of gossip, what’s the deal with Dustin’s stepbrother coming back in town?”
“Who, Luke Harper? You sound like it’s unreasonable for him to come to a family funeral.” He eyed my fake nonchalance. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Me?” I turned my back to Will and checked the kettle. “I’m just asking. He hasn’t been home in seven years. I’m just wondering what you heard about his plans now that he’s out of the Army.”
“Luke Harper’s plans?” Will chewed on that idea for a moment. “I know what this is about. It’s his looks, isn’t it?”
“Good Lord, I’m not a boy crazy teenager anymore.” I spun around, color rising in my cheeks. “Give me some credit. I used to know him. I just wondered is all.”
“You lost your credit with that fiasco in Vegas.” Will winked, referring to my dumbest moment in twenty-six years.
“Todd cannot keep his mouth shut,” I muttered. “We did not get married. I don’t care what he says. And why would anyone believe him over me? I’ve had more intelligent conversations with Snug the Coonhound than Todd McIntosh.”
“Thereby proving my point. All I’m saying is know your weaknesses and avoid them.”
“Man. You can’t get away with anything in this town.”
“Remember that. It’ll keep you in line.” Will squeezed my shoulder as the steam blew. “There’s your kettle. You best get your skinny behind to work. If something’s oozing through your walls, that’d be a plumbing issue. You want to get rich, marry a plumber.”
“I’ll work on that.”
“I’d rather you work on marrying a plumber than doing crazy jobs like painting Dustin Branson’s picture.” He faked a shudder to accompany his wink. “Just thinking about painting a guy in a funeral home is enough to give me the willies.”
I threaded my way through the back maze of Cooper’s to the front lobby, intent on grabbing my sketching supplies from my truck bed. Now that I competed for the commission with Shawna, I realized the craziness of the situation. Wanda and JB compartmentalized their feelings like crime scene veterans. Of course, I wasn’t privy to the private goings-on of the Bransons. There was probably some perfectly good psychological explanation for wanting a coffin portrait of a son you didn’t seem to like very much.
I had bigger things to worry about. Like spending some quality time with a dead guy.
And avoiding Luke, I thought, as Wanda flagged me down. Luke hovered next to her. The portfolio case I had snagged from the conference room bumped against my back, keeping time with my steps. As I threw him an eye roll, my toe hit a seam in the carpet and I stumbled. The long case strap twisted beneath my arm and the oversized bag flipped forward. A hard corner smacked me in the gut. With a mostly silent grunt, I fixed the strap, flipped the case back, and looked up.
A dimple glimmered in Luke’s cheek and went out.
“Cherry, where did you get to?” asked Wanda. She pointed to a large red shopping bag at her feet. “I’ve got Dustin’s mementos here for you. I had them in my car in case I got a chance to pass by Crafty Corner.”
“Great.” I slung the portfolio bag onto my back, picked up the bag, and supported the sagging weight under one hand. Luke’s dimple, hovering somewhere beneath his hardened jaw, threatened to emerge as he watched my struggle.
“I’d get the door for you,” he said, “but I’m sure you’ll be fine seeing as how you’re a businesswoman and all. You probably got used to getting your own doors in the last seven years. I was raised a gentleman, but I’m not going to tread on your independence.”
Wanda nudged him. “Honey, you help Cherry. Stop teasing her. She might not know what a joker you are.”
“Don’t worry, ma’am,” I said. “I find it hard to take him seriously.”
“Give me the bag,” he said.
I eyed Miss Wanda and heaved a big sigh. Considering my overburdened arms and my rush to get started, my protests would seem ridiculous.
“Fine.” I set the bag on the floor and yanked off my portfolio case. “Take this to the viewing room. I’ll be back in a minute with my sketching stuff.” I didn’t want to chance getting stuck in my truck with him. Memories of Luke and my truck were starting to trickle back. Although they weren’t as bad as memories of Luke and his truck. His truck had been much more comfortable than mine.
I jettisoned to the Datsun and back to find Dustin ready and waiting in the viewing room. JB’s minions had cleared out. Wanda and JB had also disappeared, although their Lincoln MKT still sat in the parking lot. So did a black Ford Raptor pickup. Someone with a stepdad in the auto industry had recently received a shiny new truck. The man with the penchant for black pickups had dropped the portfolio case on a chair in the viewing room and disappeared. I blew a sigh of relief and used the solitude to get accustomed to my first literal still life.
“Hey Dustin,” I whispered. “I’m sorry about your passing. At least the way you went. No one deserves to have their life taken from them like that.”
Footsteps approached the doorway, and I realized the family probably hadn’t spent time with Dustin yet. I grabbed my sketchbook and slid to a back corner chair, where a grouping of floral arrangements kept my presence unobtrusive. Luke, Wanda, and JB strolled in with Cooper.
“Oh my,” said Wanda, walking directly to the coffin. She closed her eyes in prayer for a moment. “You did a good job, Cooper.”
“I got a new girl,” said Cooper, “she’s pretty good. Keeps forgetting her keys, though, and leaving them in the kitchen.”
“Hard to train new staff,” said JB gruffly. He and Luke hung back and stood at right angles to the casket. “The coffin turned out real nice. I didn’t think we needed top of the line, but a lot of people are going to see it, I suspect.”
From behind a palm frond, I watched Cooper nod. “You should have a good turnout for the visitation and the funeral. I’ve been taking calls all day.”
“Heard from Virginia yet, JB?” Luke asked.
“Surprisingly, no,” said JB. “Any normal woman would have scooted up here as soon as she heard her son was dead.” He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “As if I could take any more embarrassment over this fiasco. Now I’ll have my crazy ex-wife up here stirring up trouble. She’s probably postponing the visit on purpose.”
“What purpose?” Switching his stance to face JB, Luke placed himself in line with me. I hunkered over the sketchbook, pretending to draw, and prayed the Bransons would be too preoccupied to notice me. I didn’t want to lose the commission over something as dumb as being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Shawna would love that.