Paint the Town Dead Read online

  Nixie wrapped her fingers firmly around the glass as if to make sure no one could take it from her. “What are you, my sponsor? I don’t know why everyone wants to stop me from drinking. Ian, you, my own son. I don’t know what the big deal is. I don’t have a problem.”

  “I just thought Ian would want—”

  “He means well, but sometimes he really doesn’t understand how hard it is.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true. He lost a wife to a serious illness. He probably knows exactly what you’re going through.”

  “It’s not the same.” Nixie banged the glass on the table. Wine splashed onto the polished wood as well as the woman’s suit. A few drops landed on Rory who grabbed a cocktail napkin and wiped the liquid off her hand. “I should never have left Seattle,” the woman continued. “Nothing good has happened to me in California.” She stared morosely at her wine for a moment, then finished it in one gulp.

  “I can take you home if you need a ride,” Rory said, worried the woman would attempt to drive in her current state.

  “No need. I have a room in the hotel for the night.” Nixie gingerly stood up and, on unsteady feet, headed toward the exit.

  Rory followed her and made sure she took an elevator up to the guest rooms, not down to one of the parking levels.

  When she rejoined her friend in the lobby, Liz said, “How’s Nixie?”

  “Not great. Don’t know what she’s going to do with Ian in jail. He helped her out a lot.”

  “I just realized you never told me what Dashing D said about Jasmine’s soda bottle. Did he get confirmation that’s how Ian drugged her?”

  Rory stared at Liz.

  “What? Did I say something stupid?”

  “No, not at all. I left a message on his cell, but I never heard back from him. I wonder if he picked up the bottle.”

  “We could go see. You still have the key, right?”

  When the two of them entered Jasmine’s hotel room a few minutes later, Rory slid open the closet door, took out the roller bag, and set it on the bed.

  When she opened it, she found all of the painting supplies she expected, but the bottle was no longer inside.

  “He must have taken it,” Rory said. “I’ll have to ask him about it tomorrow. It shouldn’t take the police long to verify it contained GHB.” If she had one of those coasters the college student in the bar had, she would have been able to test it herself, she thought. “I wish he’d called me to tell me he had the bottle.”

  “He’s a detective, he’s busy on the case. Probably didn’t even occur to him.”

  They returned the roller bag to the closet and parted ways in the lobby.

  Before going to bed that night, Rory settled down at her computer to catch up on email. While she was online, she checked Vista Beach Confidential to see what Veronica had been up to since the convention started. The woman had posted photos and daily reports of her experiences at her first painting convention, from the classes she took to the products and people she’d seen on the trade show floor. Rory snickered at the account of the exhibitor who had stuffed receipts in her bra. According to Veronica, business must have been good, because the woman had grown two cup sizes in an hour.

  One of the earliest posts was an interview with Jasmine about her struggle with narcolepsy that turned out to be a sensitive portrayal of a condition few people knew anything about. Rory hadn’t realized her friend had given the interview, but was glad she had.

  Next, she checked out the photo gallery, sifting through the dozen of pictures Veronica had taken during the convention. When she came across a candid shot of Hulbert and Jasmine together, she wondered if he’d seen it. She doubted the man frequented the website or even knew of VBC’s existence. Thinking he might appreciate a copy of one of the last photographs taken of his step-niece, she printed the picture out and studied it. Judging by the statue of a surfer in the background, it had been taken in front of the entrance to the hotel restaurant. She could just make out a bottle in Jasmine’s hand. Rory wondered if it was the soda she bought before class, though this picture could have been taken another day. She made a mental note to ask Hulbert when she gave the photo to him.

  Rory returned her attention to the blog. In her most recent post, Veronica mentioned the arrest of the Akaw’s manager and speculated on what that would mean for the hotel. She conjectured the community would finally discover the identity of its mysterious owner, who would be forced to come out from the shadows now that his right-hand man was no longer available to manage the property.

  At the bottom of the page was an exclusive interview with Oscar Carlton, who claimed he’d been instrumental in uncovering the identity of the hit-and-run driver. In it, the local PI explained his part in the capture of the hotel manager—how he had re-interviewed the witness and handed the new information over to the local authorities.

  Rory snorted and shook her head in disbelief as she read the words. If she hadn’t alerted Detective Green to what the witness had told her, Ian would probably never have been found out—unless he stopped paying the PI hush money, that is.

  When Veronica asked Oscar about the alleged blackmail attempt, the man claimed that for his entire life, people had been after him, accusing him of things he’d never done. So he’d learned to protect himself. That’s why he’d installed hidden cameras in his office that even his assistant didn’t know existed.

  Rory stared at the words on the screen, reading them over and over again. Hidden cameras. Office. She gulped. If what he said was true and he wasn’t just spouting off, they were in trouble. Big, big trouble. She didn’t want to know what such a man would do once he discovered they’d searched his office. It wouldn’t be difficult for him to find out who either of them were. He was a private investigator, after all. Plus, Liz’s face was plastered around town in real estate ads on benches and shopping carts and, by this time, Rory’s was almost as well-known.

  Even though midnight had come and gone, she called her friend to warn her about the perceived threat.

  Liz yawned into the phone. “How do we even know he’s telling the truth? Maybelline told us he lied a lot.”

  “I don’t see why he’d lie about this.”

  “We don’t know for sure he has any cameras. I didn’t see any. Did you?”

  “That’s the point. They were hidden.” Rory wondered if she was making a mountain out of the proverbial molehill, and they had nothing to worry about. “He’s probably mad we eliminated his cash cow. I’m worried about what he might do.”

  “If the cameras actually existed, why would he mention them in an interview? Wouldn’t he want to keep them secret?”

  “Not if he wanted to warn people not to mess with him.”

  “Go to bed. A good night’s sleep will put it all in perspective. Big day tomorrow. It’s the last day of the convention, plus we have the meet and greet and Jasmine’s tribute.” Liz yawned into the phone once again and hung up.

  Rory placed the phone in its charger, then walked around the house straightening, trying to expend enough energy so she could fall asleep. As she put away the painting supplies she bought at the trade show, she wondered if she was worrying for nothing. She couldn’t get the picture of her being led to jail in handcuffs out of her head. She wondered if the PI would even bother with the police or decide to take justice into his own hands. Rory didn’t want to know what Oscar Carlton considered acceptable punishment for their invasion of his privacy.

  Chapter 23

  After attending an early church service the next morning, Rory headed toward the Akaw for the final day of the painting convention. She was driving past the offices of the Vista Beach View when she spotted Veronica going inside. Remembering she hadn’t yet asked the reporter about the hotel security footage, Rory found a parking spot nearby and went in search of the woman.

  As soon as Rory stepped inside the newspaper offices, her gaze swept the dozen desks scattered throughout the large room until it landed on one in the far
corner where a woman with black hair sat, her back to the entrance, attention focused on something in her hand.

  Rory wended her way around the desks toward her prey, not stopping until she reached Veronica’s side. She peered over the woman’s shoulder at a smartphone, catching a glimpse on its screen of a Facebook page that didn’t have the reporter’s name on it.

  “So this is what you do at work,” she said right next to the woman’s left ear. “Who is Jennifer—” Before she could read the rest of the name, Veronica turned off her phone.

  “Don’t creep up on me like that!” The reporter frowned. “You’re always startling me.”

  “Sorry.” Rory sat down on the chair next to Veronica’s desk, facing her. “How come you’re not at the convention?”

  “Work. Why aren’t you there?”

  Rory rolled her chair closer to Veronica. “I’m looking for information.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of information?”

  “I need to know who your source is for the hotel footage. The anonymous one you mentioned in the paper.”

  “Why?”

  Rory rolled a little closer, her knees coming within inches of the other woman’s chair. “I need to look at the footage. It’s important.”

  Veronica backed up her chair until it hit the desk behind her. “Can’t. Journalism. Protecting sources. You know the drill. I wouldn’t tell the police when they asked, why should I tell you?”

  “You’d be helping to verify Ian’s confession.”

  “So you want the name of my contact so you can look at the footage and verify that it’s Ian who set off the alarm? What if it’s not him?”

  “Could be an accomplice. Either way it’ll be a coup for you. You can write about it in the paper or on your blog.”

  Veronica stared at the wall opposite her. A smile flitted across her face.

  “So you’ll do it? Give me his name?” Rory said.

  “No, sorry.”

  “Why not? Don’t you want the scoop?”

  “I don’t need to give you his name. I have the information right here.” Veronica patted her keyboard. “But I’m not going to show the footage to you. I think I’ll keep it to myself.”

  Rory stared straight ahead without seeing what was in front of her, trying to come up with some way to ferret the information out of the reporter.

  “Stop staring at me. You’re making me nervous.”

  “Sorry, didn’t realize I was.” Rory leaned forward in her chair and placed her elbows on her knees. “What if Ian’s innocent? Do you want that on your conscience?”

  “The police have the footage. If he didn’t do it, they’ll figure it out.”

  “I don’t know, he confessed. They might not look too hard. And you just said it yourself, the police have the footage. Why keep it from me? If you show it to me, I’ll let you in on anything I find out.”

  “You do seem to be friendly with Detective Green’s girlfriend.” Veronica drummed her fingers on her desk as she considered the proposal. “Okay.” She typed on the keyboard and brought up the hotel security footage on the display.

  They watched over and over again as someone dressed in coveralls with a ball cap obscuring their face pulled the fire alarm.

  “Could be a man, could be a woman. Average build and height from what I can tell. The coveralls are pretty shapeless so I could be off on the build,” Rory finally said after reviewing the footage at least ten times. “Can’t see much of the face, but I’d say it’s not Ian. No beard.”

  Veronica nodded her head. “So we’re talking an accomplice, then.”

  Or Ian had nothing to do with it, Rory thought. And someone else entirely was responsible.

  Veronica glanced at her watch. “Isn’t the memorial service soon? We should get over to the hotel. Can you give me a ride?”

  The two headed out the door, and less than ten minutes later, were walking into the lobby of the Akaw. They followed the handwritten signs to the Huntington ballroom where the tribute to Jasmine was being held. When they reached their destination, Veronica joined the throng going into the room while Rory stopped to talk to Peter who was standing in front of a poster size photo of his wife displayed on an easel just outside the entrance. She placed her hand on his shoulder. “That’s a lovely photograph of her.”

  “Isn’t it? It was her favorite,” Peter said.

  “Have you seen Brandy?” Rory asked.

  He motioned toward the ballroom. “I think she’s inside, helping Nixie set up the slideshow. Thanks for suggesting we ask Veronica and Stella for pictures. They both had several good ones of Jasmine taken during the convention.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing them.”

  As people arrived, they gathered around the recent widower, forming an impromptu receiving line.

  Rory patted Peter on the arm and said, “I’ll see you inside.”

  As she squeezed her way between people, she spotted Detective Green off to one side, scanning the crowd as they entered the ballroom.

  “Sorry for your loss,” he said as soon as he saw her.

  “Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “I’m glad to see you here. I wanted to ask you about the soda bottle. Were you able to test its contents?”

  “I don’t have it.”

  “What are you talking about? The soda bottle Jasmine was drinking from right before she collapsed was in her painting bag in her hotel room. I saw it there myself. That’s how the killer drugged her. Didn’t you pick it up last night?”

  He shook his head. “I went up to her room after I got your message. I looked through the roller bag and the suitcase, but didn’t find it. Tell me what you know about this bottle, from the beginning.”

  Rory quickly recounted how she’d seen Jasmine drinking from the plastic soda bottle the day she died, how Rory had found the bottle in her friend’s painting bag and called him as soon as she realized its significance.

  Detective Green held her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. In a quiet voice, he said, “I know you and Liz went to see the witness from the hit-and-run. I don’t know how you got her name, maybe I don’t want to know, but you two shouldn’t have been investigating. It’s not safe. This is not a game. It’s serious business. I don’t want to have to worry about either of you. I lost someone dear to me once, I don’t want to have that happen again.” She nodded. He removed his hands from her shoulders. “Now, we need to set some ground rules. No investigating. If you come across information you think I need, call me right away. Anytime, day or night. Do nothing about it, absolutely nothing, okay?”

  Rory silently nodded her agreement, then headed into the ballroom where rows of white folding chairs were set up facing a raised dais with a podium. On an easel next to the dais was a still life Jasmine had painted in oils.

  She spotted Hulbert guiding his wife into a seat in the front row and headed down the aisle toward them. She drew him aside and handed him the candid photo she’d printed from Vista Beach Confidential. “Here. I thought you might like a copy of this picture of you and Jasmine. I found it on a website. Looks like it was taken somewhere in the hotel.” Her gaze zeroed in on the clothes Jasmine was wearing in the picture. “Probably the day she...you know.”

  Hulbert stared at the photograph and cleared his throat. “Thanks. I haven’t seen this one. That must have been one of our last conversations. I didn’t even know anyone was taking our picture.” He looked up at Rory and said, “Where did you say you got this photograph?”

  Rory was about to explain about VBC when Viveca waved her hand and he hurried to her side.

  Rory made her way back down the aisle and settled into a seat between Liz and her mother. “I have news,” she whispered to Liz. “About the bottle. He didn’t pick it up. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

  A constant stream of attendees entered the ballroom and sat down. Peter and Brandy took seats in the front, while Mel and Stella Nygaard, who had become fast friends, found places in a
row behind them. Half the chairs were filled by the time Maybelline settled down into a seat nearby. Rory glanced to the back of the room where Detective Green was leaning against the back wall. A hush fell over the crowd when Nixie stepped to the podium and started the tribute.

  After she thanked everyone for coming, the lights in the ballroom dimmed and Nixie began the slideshow. Baby pictures of Jasmine appeared on the screen followed by others of her through the years. Rory smiled at one of the four of them in their Halloween costumes. Rory had been a witch, Brandy a ballerina, and Jasmine and Peter had been Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire. Nixie rounded out the presentation with pictures taken during the OPS convention.

  Liz nudged Rory’s arm as a photo of Brandy and Jasmine appeared on the screen. The two stood in a hallway with heads close together, deep in conversation. “That’s a nice one. Looks pretty recent.”

  “Jasmine was wearing that outfit the day she died,” Rory whispered. “I saw another picture of her taken the same day.”

  As the slideshow wound to an end, Rory cast her mind back to the other day when she’d seen Brandy on the beach. She frowned. Even though Brandy had said she hadn’t seen Jasmine on Wednesday, the slideshow provided visual evidence to the contrary.

  After all the pictures had been shown, Viveca stepped up to the podium. Dressed in a short-sleeved black dress and black pumps, she thanked everyone for coming, then related a few stories about her niece. She was halfway through one when she broke down in tears and was unable to continue. As Hulbert led her to her seat, Peter took her spot at the podium followed by a number of other people who had met Jasmine at painting events.

  When Arika took the floor representing her family, Rory’s eyes welled up with tears as her mother told of meeting Jasmine and seeing her grow up with her own daughter. By the time she finished, there wasn’t a dry eye in the ballroom.

  At the end of the service, while everyone filed out, Rory remained in her seat. Once she’d brought her emotions under control, she slipped out the door to join the receiving line.