Paint the Town Dead Page 12

  “Who’s the man you were arguing with?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  Rory crossed her fingers behind her back and said in a hushed tone of voice, “He ran into my car in a parking lot and just drove away without leaving a note.”

  “Not the hotel’s lot, I hope?”

  “No, no, a grocery store parking lot down the block.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. He’s a former employee. Not the most responsible type. I fired him recently. He wasn’t exactly happy about it.”

  “The hotel’s only been open a couple weeks, I wouldn’t think you’d have time to fire anyone.”

  “Sometimes it doesn’t take long to figure out an employee is not going to work out. Besides...” Ian lowered his voice so Rory could barely catch the words. “I caught him talking with those protesters. There were other problems, but I can’t discuss them with you. Legal reasons.”

  “Do you think this man had something to do with the recent sabotage, then?” Rory asked.

  Ian sighed. “You heard me in the bar, didn’t you? Talking with Detective Green?”

  “Did you tell the detective about Mr....?” Rory waited for the hotel manager to supply the unknown man’s name, but he ignored the implicit request.

  “To tell you the truth, I’d forgotten about him until you showed me that video. I’ll be sure to contact the police and let them know as soon as possible.” The hotel manager glanced at the gold watch on his wrist. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment.”

  Rory sensed the man was holding something back. For some reason she couldn’t define, his account of his conversation with Jasmine didn’t ring true. They’d talked too long for it to have been a simple request for directions. And, besides, he was the one who’d approached Jasmine, not the other way around.

  She was heading to the El Porto ballroom to report back when Liz walked down the hallway toward her.

  “Did you find Ian?”

  Rory nodded her head. “The conversation was...interesting.”

  “I need some fresh air and sunshine,” Liz said. “Let’s take a walk and you can give me the details.”

  The two headed out the door and soon found themselves on a stone bench north of the pier, facing the ocean. Rory stared at a waist-high concrete wall that separated the path reserved for joggers and walkers from the one slightly below them that bikers and skaters used. The two paths converged in front of the pier, merging into a single trail shared by everyone. With all the beachgoers moving every which way, the area was ripe for potential collisions. She thought back to the time, just two months before, when she witnessed a minor biking accident between Detective Green and an inline skater at the same spot. She hadn’t been able to prevent the accident, but she felt good about being there to help him bandage his scrapes.

  “What are you smiling about?” Liz looked down at the bike path. “Do you recognize someone?”

  Rory felt her face heat up. “It’s nothing.”

  “Wait. This is where Dashing D had his bike accident, isn’t it? That’s what’s got you all flustered.”

  Rory shrugged her shoulders in a noncommittal gesture.

  “Bikers have good bodies, don’t they? All that exercise gives them muscular legs and tushes.” Liz grinned.

  Rory rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve seen you checking out his butt. Don’t deny it,” Liz said. “Now, tell me about your conversation with Ian.”

  After Rory related every detail she could remember, Liz said, “What was that about your car? When did it get hit?”

  “My car’s fine. That was just a little white lie. It’s the only reason I could come up with for wanting the man’s name.”

  “Not a bad idea, but it didn’t help. He still didn’t give it to you.”

  “He didn’t, did he?” Rory stared at the ocean thoughtfully.

  “What about his body language? Did you get anything from that?”

  “He tensed up when I asked about the man, but if he’s a disgruntled employee, I can understand why.”

  Liz nodded in agreement. “You hear about people going on rampages after getting fired all the time these days. Or, at least, that’s what makes the news.”

  “You know what we need to do? Verify his story.” Rory thought about the problem for a moment. “You know lots of people. Do you know anyone who could tell us if the man really was a hotel employee? Maybe someone who works there.”

  Liz thought for a moment, then her face brightened. “I know, Nevada Nellie!”

  “Nevada Nellie?”

  “Sorry, Nell Fremont. She moved here from Nevada. She works at the Akaw. I found renters for her parents’ house here in town. If the man worked at the hotel, maybe she knows his name. Let’s go see if she’s here today.”

  They returned to the hotel and were walking up to the front desk when a young woman wearing a dress in a Hawaiian-style print came out of a back room. Liz put on her best meet-the-client face and walked over to her. “Nell, so nice to see you. How are those tenants working out for your parents? Are they enjoying their retirement home in Palm Springs?”

  Nell’s face brightened. “They’re wonderful. Mom and Dad wanted me to tell you how grateful they are to you for finding them. You’re here for the painting convention, right? I was sorry to hear about the woman who passed away.”

  “Thank you.” Liz cleared her throat. “We were wondering if you could help us with something.”

  “Anything I can do.”

  Rory cued up the video on her cell phone, stopping at the frame showing the face of the man in question.

  “Do you know this man’s name? He worked here and was fired.”

  Nell looked at the frame carefully, then shook her head. “I don’t think he was ever an employee. At least not as long as I’ve been here. But there’s something...” She frowned. “I feel like I’ve seen him before, I just can’t remember where. When was this taken?”

  “Tuesday evening, five-twenty or so.”

  They stood in silence for a moment while Nell stared off into space and thought. “Can I see that again?”

  Rory held her phone up and the hotel employee looked intently at its display for several minutes. For a moment, Rory thought she saw a glimmer of recognition in the woman’s eyes, but decided she must have been mistaken when Nell denied knowing who the man was once again. Before they could ask anything else, someone called Nell’s name. The young woman looked toward the front desk where another employee was motioning to her. “I’d better go. Sorry I couldn’t be more help. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  Rory stared after the hotel employee. She had a feeling the woman had been about to say something, but thought better of it. “I wonder why Ian lied about the man working here.”

  “Maybe he didn’t. Nell might not have met him before he was fired.” Liz glanced at her watch. “I’d better get going. Your mom’s expecting me at the booth.”

  Rory waved goodbye and headed to the Manhattan ballroom to see Nixie. Inside, she found the convention organizer sitting by herself behind a table in the office, chewing mint gum.

  “Just wanted to let you know Gordon gave me the check. Thanks,” Rory said.

  “I’m so sorry it was late. Won’t happen again.”

  Rory nodded her understanding, then played with a stack of aprons on the desk, unsure how to bring up the subject of embezzlement. She’d just decided on her approach when one of the convention attendees poked her head around the door.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” the woman said. “But we have a problem. Our instructor hasn’t shown up for class and it’s already fifteen minutes in.”

  “Which class is it?” Armed with the information, Nixie called the AWOL instructor’s cell phone, but it went straight to voicemail. “I guess I’m going to have to hunt her down.” She hesitated. “Rory, I hate to ask you, but could you look after the office for a few minutes? I’d rather not close it.”

&
nbsp; “Sure,” Rory said, even though she wanted to pound her head against the wall in frustration. With all these interruptions, she was never going to get to ask the woman about Tempest’s accusations.

  After explaining where everything was, Nixie headed out the door to track down the missing instructor.

  Rory settled down in the chair behind the table and tried to keep herself busy. She straightened the pile of aprons and picked up some brochures that had fallen to the floor. As she was looking around to see if there was anything else she could do to be helpful, she realized now might be her only chance to search the office. She had no idea what she would find, or even what she was looking for, but felt it important to try. Nixie wouldn’t be gone long. She had to act fast.

  Rory walked over to the door and looked out. People milled around in the hallway, but no one seemed interested in the office. She closed the ballroom door enough so no one walking by would see what she was doing and began her search. She looked through everything on the table, straightening up as she went, but found nothing secreted among the aprons, brochures and the half-dozen envelopes convention attendees hadn’t picked up.

  When she spotted Jasmine’s roller bag off to one side, she made a mental note to remind Peter it was there and ask him what he wanted them to do with it. She looked under the table and searched the boxes, flipping through the papers in a yellow folder secreted under a stack of extra conference brochures. The numbers on the page made little sense to her and the writing on the folder’s tab, “Financials,” was too generic to tell her much. She put the folder back and continued her search, hesitating when she came across Nixie’s large shoulder bag. She briefly debated with herself before quickly going through its contents.

  Inside she found an e-reader, wallet, perfume, makeup, mint gum, and miscellaneous other items normally found in the average woman’s purse. When she unscrewed the top of a water bottle, a whiff of alcohol escaped. She returned everything to its place, then checked the rest of the office, finding nothing of interest, not even the laptop Nixie had been using earlier.

  Rory was refolding the aprons on the table when the convention organizer returned.

  “That’s the last time I work with that woman,” Nixie said before Rory could ask about her quest. “She fell asleep in her room. Thought the time had been changed on her class. Said I’d called her and told her it was switched to evening. I never did that. She made it up, I’m sure. Just trying to cover up her own mistake. She’s teaching now, but not all the students wanted to stay, so I’m going to have to refund some money.” The two exchanged places. As Nixie settled down in the chair behind the table, she said, “Thanks for looking after the office while I was gone.”

  “No problem. I wanted to ask you about something. I was wondering where you worked before you started your own business and put together the convention.”

  Nixie sat back in her chair and stared at the young woman for what must have been at least twenty seconds. “She got to you, didn’t she?”

  Rory plastered what she hoped was an innocent expression on her face. “Who are you talking about?”

  “You know who.” The convention organizer sat back in her chair and sighed. “Poor misguided child. Her mother and I were friends.” She produced the wrinkled photograph Rory had seen earlier and placed it on the table. “This is me and Tempest’s mother. I was as shocked as everyone else when the theft came to light. And even more shocked to discover my friend was the one who’d done it. I feel for the girl. She insists I let her mother take the blame.” She looked down at her hands. “No one wants to think ill of their parents, but even mothers are human.”

  Before Rory could ask anything else, a half dozen students entered the office seeking class refunds. Rory slipped out the door. As she passed by the bulletin board set up on an easel outside the office, she spotted a notice pinned to it. Sunday morning a short service was to be held in one of the ballrooms for Jasmine. She noted the time and location in her phone’s calendar before heading to the trade show floor.

  Chapter 18

  When Rory arrived at the Scrap ’n Paint booth, the line at the register was so long it stretched down the aisle past the next two exhibitors. She stowed her bag under a table and pitched in. With her help, the checkout line soon dwindled to a more manageable length.

  After the booth quieted down, Arika thumbed through the stack of credit card receipts, nodding her head in satisfaction. “This is the busiest we’ve been all convention.”

  Rory’s gaze swept the booth, taking in the greatly depleted shelves. “Do you want me to run down to the store and get more stock?”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you.” Arika eyed the displays, grabbed a pad of paper, and wrote down a dozen items. As she handed the list to her daughter, she said, “Have you talked to Peter today?”

  Rory’s face heated up. “We had a bit of a...misunderstanding. I’m not sure he wants to hear from me.”

  Arika’s gaze dwelled on her daughter’s face for a moment. “Call him. Good friends are hard to come by. And congratulate him for me on the dance contest.”

  Rory gathered her things, drove the short distance to Arika’s Scrap ’n Paint, and picked up the items on the list. Before she headed back to the hotel, she sat in her car and dialed Peter’s number. The call went straight to voicemail. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, checked the time, then put her car in gear and headed to his house.

  When she pulled into his driveway a few minutes later, Peter was pulling open the door of the detached garage.

  “What do you want? Have you found something else to accuse me of?” he asked her when she got out of her car.

  Rory stepped forward. “Let’s not fight. I just want to get to the bottom of Jasmine’s death.”

  “I wish you’d let it go, but you always were stubborn.”

  An awkward silence fell over the two of them as Rory tried to find the right words to say. She gave up attempting to justify her actions and said instead, “My mother wanted me to congratulate you on the tango competition. And I wanted to make sure you know about the memorial at the hotel for Jasmine on Sunday.”

  Peter studied her for a moment, then his face softened. “I’ve been working with Nixie on it. I was going to ask if you had any pictures of Jaz at the convention, before...you know. We’re going to use them in a slideshow.”

  “I haven’t taken any, but I know people who have.” She gave him several names and, after a few more minutes of polite conversation, she headed back to the hotel.

  After dropping off the merchandise at her mother’s booth, Rory found a quiet spot in the lobby, away from the hustle and bustle of the convention, and checked out the hotel and convention websites. Relief washed over her when she found everything functioning properly. She was examining the convention’s Facebook page when Liz sank down on the chair next to hers.

  “What are you looking at?”

  Rory turned her phone’s display around so her friend could see. “Just making sure no one’s said anything else about me on the convention page.”

  “Ooh, are there any new photos?” Liz whipped out her own phone and began reading the most recent post.

  The two sat next to each other, gazes trained on their own phones, and continued to view photos from various social media sites, occasionally sharing ones they thought were particularly interesting.

  “Here’s one of Dashing D and Mel. They’re a cute couple.” Liz looked over her phone at Rory. “You missed the boat on that one.”

  “I’m not really on the market right now. I’m happy by myself. Besides, he’s shorter than I am.”

  “Excuses, excuses.” A few minutes of silence, then Liz said, “This one reminds me of someone I went to high school with. No, it’s not her. Sure looks a lot like her, though.”

  As soon as her friend said the words, a light went on in Rory’s mind. “Oh.”

  “What is it?” Liz looked up from her phone.

  “I just realized
how we could figure out who the man in the video is. High school yearbooks. The VB Library has a slew of them.”

  “We don’t know how old he is. How do we know where to start?”

  “We could guess.” Rory didn’t relish digging through countless yearbooks on the off chance they would find a picture of the man. Assuming, of course, they would actually recognize a teenage version of him.

  “Plus, we don’t even know if he went to school here. He might have moved to town like you did,” Liz continued.

  “We have to start some place.” Rory stared at the surfboard that hung on the wall opposite her, looking for inspiration. “I have an idea. Let’s go find Maybelline.” The woman had been a fixture in the city for more years than Rory had been alive. She’d probably seen a lot of its residents pass through the high school. If the mystery man in the video had grown up in Vista Beach, the former high school principal was sure to know.

  After asking around, they found Maybelline on the trade show floor in the HennaMe booth, where customers could get a temporary tattoo applied to a hand or arm or, for the do-it-yourselfers, buy henna kits and supplies. Dressed in a purple suit with matching fedora, the older woman was talking with the artist who was applying the henna paste to the back of her hand, freestyling a design of flowers and squiggly lines.

  After Rory got over the surprise of seeing the octogenarian getting any kind of tattoo, she showed the clip to her. “Maybelline, I was wondering if you knew who this is.”

  The woman peered at the phone’s screen and said with little hesitation, “That’s Oscar Carlton. Not one of my best students.”

  “Are you sure?” Rory asked.

  “I’d never forget him, believe me.”

  “What do you remember about him?”

  “Horrible grades. Always had some scheme going. He was in my office more than once. I remember him being a very convincing liar, but I didn’t have any problem seeing right through him. From what I hear, he hasn’t improved much since high school.”