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 (8 page)
“Stepdad.” Luke shrugged. “Whatever.”
“I need to get home. Can you drive me back to Halo now?” I nudged Todd. “I have a ruined canvas to replace. I don’t even have a deposit to pay myself back for the supplies.”
The men pushed out of their seats and wandered to the door. The night was clear and cool, reminding me of the late hour. I hadn’t touched the memory box collection and I was back to square one with the painting. It was going to be a long night.
“Dude, is that your truck?” Cody pointed to the Ford Raptor gleaming under the parking lot light.
Luke tossed him the keys. “Go ahead and give it a spin. But if you’re not back in five, I’ll call the sheriff.”
“Come on, Todd. Let’s see what she can do.” Cody trotted to the truck. Todd followed, glancing over his shoulder.
“Don’t worry about me. Not like I’m in a hurry or it’s the middle of the night,” I said, leaning against Todd’s little, red hatchback. There was no deterring my brother from checking out any kind of vehicle. I’d have better luck teaching a cat to swim.
Luke stopped before me, pushed a dusky brown curl off his forehead, and stretched into a yawn.
My eyes skimmed over the muscles in the upraised arms, down the firm chest, and found a spot of exposed flesh between his jeans and raised t-shirt. Darting a glance back to his face, I realized he caught me looking.
He lowered his arms and smoothed his t-shirt over his jeans.
“So what did the sheriff say about the breakin?” Luke asked. “Does he have any suspects?”
“Uh.” The parking lot light buzzed and dimmed overhead, darkening Luke’s eyes, reminding me of flint. Shadows filled his dimples and carved his cheekbones. He’d make a good pen and ink study tonight. A nude life study would be nice.
I shook myself awake. “What?”
He maneuvered into my personal space again, placing a hand on the car roof. “What did the sheriff say?”
Oh man, I thought. Luke Harper needs to stop draping his body around me. Resisting temptation was not this girl’s forte.
“Uncle Will wasn’t happy with me. Doesn’t want me to keep painting, either.” I blew out a sigh, thinking about the commission. “But I’m going to do it anyway. I’ll use the photo I took. I need the money and the recommendation if your mom and JB like it.”
“JB’s not going to be too happy with you, that’s for sure.” Luke’s free hand slipped behind my head to search for the bump. “How’s your head?” His fingers caressed my skull.
I closed my eyes and thought about pushing him away. At my moan, the nimble fingers crept to massage the muscles at the back of my neck.
“Um, it’s okay.” I took a deep breath, and the fingers kneaded my shoulders. My knees buckled, and I slid a few inches down the door. Luke’s knee against my thigh stopped my decline. “Oh, that feels so good.” I hoped I wasn’t drooling.
“So when the sheriff questioned you about what happened, did he offer some opinions on the perp?” Both hands massaged my shoulders now. I gripped the handle with one hand. The other hand seemed to have slipped to Luke’s waist without permission.
Oh Lordy. No love handles on this guy. He was all smooth muscle. I struggled to think of an answer to his question.
“He thinks I forgot to lock the back door behind me. Could be anyone.” My hand slid to his back and pressed him closer. The other clutched the door handle like a life preserver.
“You’d tell me if you learn anything else, right?”
“I guess so,” I sighed.
Luke’s hands skated from my shoulders to my face.
“You always liked being in the middle of things,” he said. A finger stroked my cheek.
“What kind of middle you talking about?” I breathed, lifting my face. A truck roared into the parking lot, brakes squealing as Cody spun a donut in the empty lot.
I sensed Luke inching closer. Taking a deep breath, I waited a second and cracked my lids. A kiss glided to my forehead. His hand covered mine to pop the handle. My feet stumbled as he yanked open the door.
“Better hop in. Getting chilly out here.”
I landed butt-first in the back seat, and the door thumped back in place. I scrambled around to peer out the back window at Luke’s long-legged stride retreating from the Civic.
“What in the hell was that?” I shrieked. “I can’t believe I fell for it!”
Flipping around, I slumped in my seat. Todd jerked open the driver door and slid inside with a quick glance into the backseat. “You doing okay, hon?”
“Just peachy,” I said, crossing my arms and tossing up my chin. “Take me home. I’ve got a kick-ass portrait to paint. I’ll show ’em.”
Morning came too early for me, but others in Halo bustled with spring enthusiasm as my Datsun shambled along Loblolly Avenue. Many of the older cottages and bungalows on Magnolia Avenue — the other main street from Halo’s whistlestop heyday — had converted to offices for lawyers or doctors. If I hadn’t moved into my Great-Gam’s abandoned cottage on Loblolly, Magnolia Avenue would have been the better choice for a business. Although quiet, Loblolly managed to grow a few Mom-and-Pops. I wondered at the financial success of the trophy store on the main corner, but they probably thought the same of me.
Rounding the square, I headed north to the outskirts of town where new subdivisions of larger homes flanked Halo.
A thirty-by-forty canvas, stretched, gessoed, and painted in the wee hours of the morning rode shotgun. A form of Dustin lying peacefully in his coffin had been roughly established over the underpainting. If the rudimentary portrayal met the Bransons’ approval, I’d be able to whisk it back home to finish. A corner of Wanda’s red shopping bag peeked from under the frame where I shoved it in my bleary-eyed haste this morning. I hadn’t peeked in the bag yet, but Dustin’s memory box was next on my list. After I got the contract signed.
Dustin’s portrait and I breezed through Fetlock Meadow’s pillared entrance. I began the difficult navigation through the winding subdivision streets that included a golf course. By the time I turned onto Trotter’s Ridge Drive, the unusual amount of traffic had prepared me for the sight of Will’s cruiser and a line of other cars parked on the street. The absence of a black pickup kept my heart steady as I parked and walked past several imposing stacked stone Southern Living style mini-mansions.
Before I even reached the Branson’s half-circle drive, Will ambled out the front door in his tan uniform, one hand resting comfortably on his holster, and filled the front stoop with his large presence. Seemed as if Sheriff Thompson would greet me today and not Uncle Will.
“What are you doing here?” His deep voice carried across the lawn.
I froze in the drive, studying Will’s deepening frown.
“I thought you were finished with this business after our talk last night.”
“I’m just here to get paid, sir,” I said, hoping a half-fib would slide me back into his good graces.
“Nobody’s home. Besides, I’d think a trip to the ER is enough of a lesson. You need to stay clear of the Bransons until we catch this guy. Whole town talking about you robbing dead bodies. Don’t look too good, hon.”
I scrunched my mouth to the side, chewing over Will’s request. I didn’t want to explain that I wanted to show the Bransons the preliminary painting in hopes they would sign a contract. Any more talking and Will would most likely slap me with a restraining order.
“What’s going on here?” I said. “Too many cop cars for a duty call to the bereaved parents.”
“Someone broke into the Branson house early this morning. JB is livid.” He ran a hand over his buzz top. “The perp ransacked his office and the first floor without the alarm engaging. Even with guests staying. This guy is bold and dangerous.”
“Kind of interesting they’d search a house filled with guests. You think it was an inside job?”
“Can’t say yet.” He leaned against the doorframe, weary. “I have a lot on my plate right now. Is Casey working today? If I get a minute, I might stop by the farm and grab a bite. Don’t want all of Halo interrupting my lunch. You think y’all have some dinner to share?”
“Casey made chicken yesterday.”
Before I could finish my thought, tires screeching on the blacktop turned my attention to the street. A faded aqua-blue Chevy Geo skidded around the corner of Trotter’s Ridge Drive. Through the cracked windshield, I glimpsed a mop of frizzy, brown hair. A half second later, I realized the car angled for the Bransons’ drive right where I stood gawking. She took a tight turn into the driveway, barely missing the front bumper of Will’s Crown Vic. Brakes squealed in protest as her foot pounded them to a stop. I scrambled for cover and landed in a band of monkey grass. A black pickup roared up the drive and jerked to a halt behind the Geo.
“Aw, hell.” I muttered.
Will strode to my side, offering me a hand up, before turning toward the crazed driver.
“My baby,” the woman shrieked, heaving herself from the Geo. “What have they done to my Dustin?” She slammed the door, rattling the loose license plate in back. A denim jumper draped her portly shape and exposed flesh hung like raw biscuit dough off her beefy biceps.
Luke’s low voice interrupted her heavy wail. “They aren’t here, Virginia. Take the show somewhere else.” He strode forward, concentrating on the grief-stricken woman.
The caterwauling ended with a practiced stop and Will and I exchanged a glance.
Virginia planted pudgy hands on her ample hips. “How dare you talk to me in that tone. My son is dead. I have every right to be here.”
“I’m not saying you can’t be at the funeral. I’m here to tell you no one’s home. And to keep your scheming self away from my mother. Try the grieving routine somewhere else. You’re not fooling anybody, though.”
She pointed to the cars lined along the street. “If nobody’s home, what are all these doing here? You were always a little liar. Always trying to get Dustin in trouble. You ruined his chances to go to school, you jealous hateful backstabber. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out you murdered my baby.”
Luke’s steely eyes sliced through her, but he remained mute. Will coughed politely, leaving my side to walk around the ex-Mrs. Branson.
“Ma’am? I’m Sheriff Thompson. Luke Harper here is correct. The family is not home. But since you made such an entrance, I’d like to talk to you.”
Virginia started to pivot, then saw me in the monkey grass. I glared and brushed pine straw from my acid-washed jeans. Luckily, my striped sequined t-shirt could survive a roll in the straw without showing dirt. Virginia swiveled back to Will. One hand flew to the lumpy denim chest and the other smoothed the brown frizz falling past her shoulders.
“That girl came out of nowhere, Officer. She was lucky I saw her at all.” At my snarl, the squeaky voice rose to a plaintive squeal. “I am dis-traught with grief. My son has been murdered. I just arrived in town and could only think to come here first.”
Will gave her a patient pause and glanced at the battered Geo filled with heaped clothing, empty fast food bags, and Diet Coke bottles. “That’s Sheriff, ma’am. The first place you thought to come was your ex-husband’s?”
“Of course.”
“Not the funeral home?”
Her lips pursed.
“Or your son’s place? You have any other relatives around Halo? Those aren’t Forks County plates on the Chevy, but it looks like you’ve been in your car a while. How long you been in town?”
“Hmph.” Virginia arched an eyebrow at Will. “That’s my business. What are you doing at my husband’s house? Where is JB?”
“Sorry ma’am, but I don’t believe your business goes that far. You might as well follow me out of here. I do need to know where you’ve been the last few days. We can talk at Cooper’s Funeral Home if that suits you. Otherwise, there’s the Sheriff’s Office.”
He motioned Virginia toward her car and grabbed his radio. Will crooked a finger at me and Luke. “You two get out of here. My deputies are inside and don’t need you hanging around. And I got my eye on you, Mr. Harper.” He pointed a finger at Luke while raising the radio to his mouth and strolled to his car.
I glanced at Luke. The sheriff’s comment didn’t seem to phase him. His grim eyes remained riveted on the Geo. “You up for another round at the Waffle House?”
“Not the Waffle House.” The guy left me in a puddle in that parking lot not even ten hours ago. Not to mention he used to stiff me for the check at a similar establishment once upon a time. A breeze rustled the dark curls brushing the back of his neck. My eyes trailed across his shoulders and snug jeans.
Dang it.
“Maybe I am a little hungry,” I said. “Meet me at The Country Kitchen on Magnolia. You can tell me where to find your mom. I’ve got some explaining to do about last night.”
Foolish to spend time with Luke again, but I was curious about some Branson skeletons that kept popping out of their closets.
And I really was hungry.
Wired from three cups of coffee and a half-carafe of maple syrup, I pushed my plate to the side and drummed paint-speckled nails on the laminate tabletop. Luke eyed my fingers, took a bite of biscuit, and chewed. I had shown him the painting and received a grunt in response. The extent of his conversation skills hadn’t increased since we slid into the orange vinyl booth and ordered breakfast. Like our middle-aged waitress whose perky ponytail did not match her blasé manner, Luke kept his focus on the clientele and not on me.
“What is up with that?” I uttered aloud.
Luke’s eyebrows lifted. He didn’t realize my question proceeded from an imaginary debate.
“How did you know Virginia was going to show up at your parents’ this morning?”
Luke slowly chewed his bacon, then wiped his lips with a napkin. “I was waiting for her on 101, across from the BP. I wanted to get to her before she upset Mom.”
“You knew she was coming?”
“She called JB’s lawyer yesterday, so we knew she’d be coming to the house today. Virginia’s been around for a while, though. She’s holed up in Sweetgum, which is why I figured she’d be coming north on 101.”
“Sweetgum?” The incorporated area couldn’t even be called a town. Its population included a shanty trailer park, three farms, and a smattering of doublewides along the highway.
“Amos Fewe has a trailer in Sweetgum. He keeps bees and sells honey at farmer’s markets. One of Virginia’s boy toys.”
“I don’t get that. I saw Virginia. Where would a woman like that get all these guys?”
“No accounting for taste, I guess. Virginia was better looking when she was young, but kind of let herself go to pot. She thinks she’s crafty. She runs with those who are looking for easy scores.” Luke grinned and stabbed the gravy coated biscuit with his fork. “In more ways than one, I guess.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Enough said. So you think Virginia was hanging around with this Amos Fewe before Dustin was killed?”
“But I don’t know why.” Luke sighed and dropped his fork. “Amos sells more than honey, though. One of those trailers that burned down last week was a meth lab. Sheriff Thompson and his boys were all over Sweetgum. Jake Fells said they were ready to raid the lab when someone tipped them off. Arsoned the place before the deputies could get in. Jake’s the one who told me he saw Virginia lurking around Sweetgum.”
I swirled the dregs of my coffee and thought about another cup. The excitement of my brush with the burglar and restarting Dustin’s project kept fatigue away last night, but lack of sleep began taking its toll. My hand jerked the cup, splattering drops of brown liquid on the table.
“You don’t think Virginia hit me on the head last night, do you?”
“That’s a pretty big leap.”
“It’s suspicious she’s been here since Dustin died but didn’t bother showing up until the day of the visitation. Isn’t it?”
He nodded warily.
“Maybe she snuck in to view his body in private or something. She wouldn’t know your mom hired me to paint him. I probably surprised her. Maybe she thought he’d be buried with some childhood toy she wanted to keep for herself. Guilt from being a bad mother and didn’t want anyone to know. Or maybe she thought I was doing something to Dustin. I was leaning over his body at the time. Her maternal instincts caused her to crack me in the skull.”
Maybe that’s what my mother would do. With that thought, my excitement extinguished with a fizzle. Express her guilt for leaving us at the farm by popping someone on the head? I was blessed with a strong imagination, but sometimes it stepped sideways from logic.
“That’s a good one,” Luke said. “I don’t think Virginia’s conscience has ever been guilty, if she even has one. And she’d want an audience for grieving for Dustin. If she conked you on the head, it’s because she didn’t want you in the way of a robbery. Did you forget Dustin’s place and my mom’s house got hit, too? I think you need to get out of Halo. Boredom is playing games with your imagination. You’re too talented for this town, anyway.”
“Stop ripping on Halo. I chose to live here. I’m not bored. Besides, I have gallery space on the internet. I don’t need to live in a big city to do what I want.” I thought about the struggle for commissions that landed me Dustin’s portrait. There weren’t a lot of options for another job in Halo to supplement an artist’s life. I sighed and slunk in my seat. “At least I don’t have to pay rent. I’d probably be working at a Waffle House if I moved to Atlanta.”
“You’re surly enough for it. And you’d look pretty cute in the uniform,” Luke grinned. “If they make them in a kid’s size.”
“I’d shoot myself if I had to wear the same color every day,” I curled my lip in distaste. “I don’t know how Uncle Will does it.”
“You get used to it. Not all of us are that concerned with our clothes.”
“Oh yeah, guess you wore a uniform every day in the service.” I looked at his hands lying on the table and thought of Dustin’s hands in my portrait. “When did you get in town, anyway?”
“I…” Luke cut off his statement with the chime of the bell hanging at the entrance. His eyes drifted to the open door and stayed.
I glanced over my shoulder, recognized the bushy goatee and whipped back around. Scrunching my nose, I slid further into the booth.