A Mold For Murder (23 page)

“No, he gave them to me outright.”

“You’re at least going to put them away before you go, aren’t you?” she asked.

“No, I’m not finished with them. I’ll get them later.”

I took off, grabbing the photo in question so Rufus could retrieve the negative. There was no doubt in my mind he would have signed the rights over to me for nothing, but I didn’t want to take advantage of him that way. Besides, I figured he’d be thrilled to make his first professional sale.

I was wrong.

 

 

“
RUFUS,
I can’t believe you’re being so stubborn. I thought you’d be delighted to make your first sale.”

He shrugged. “I’m not surprised you think so. That’s not the way I operate, though. I take photographs as a hobby. I’m not trying to generate an income here. Just take it. I don’t care. Here’s the negative, too. If I want another one, I’ll snap the photo myself.”

“I can’t go back without this release signed,” I said. “And that means you have to take the check, too.”

“Then you can’t have it,” he said. “I’m an artist, Ben. I don’t sell things, but that doesn’t keep me from giving them away.”

He was driving me nuts, but at least there wasn’t anybody around to witness the exchange. Not only was Diana absent from the store, so were all of their customers. Was the thrill they’d experienced knowing a murder suspect gone now that the reality of the situation was starting to sink in?

“Okay, if you won’t take the money, how about if I buy you fifty dollars worth of books?”

He sneered at me. “Why would I want you to do that? I can read anything I want behind the counter, and when I’m finished with it, I just put it back on the shelf.”

“Would you be interested in a gift certificate to the soap shop?” I asked, desperate to come up with anything valued at fifty dollars so the books would be balanced.

“Thanks, but no, I don’t think so.”

What was I going to do to get him to take payment for his work? “You could use it for photographic supplies. I know you’re getting a great rate on your prints, but they’ve got to be costing you something.”

“I don’t know,” he said, but I could see that he was starting to waver.

“You know what?” I said. “I apologize. I’ve been approaching this all wrong. What I meant to say when I walked in just now was that I’d like to contribute to the further development of your art, since you so generously donated a photograph to my business. Don’t look at me that way, the government gives grants all the time for developing artists. You’ve heard of the National Endowment for the Arts, haven’t you?”

“Sure,” Rufus said.

“Then consider this the Harper’s Landing Endowment Society.”

“There’s no such thing,” he said.

I handed him the check. “There is now, and you’re our first recipient. Congratulations.”

“Cool,” he said as he finally took the check.

“Just sign here and we’ll be finished.”

“I’m not selling the picture, Ben, I told you.”

I nodded. “You don’t have to.” I took the form from him, crossed out the fifty and wrote one, then handed it back to him. “Sign now.”

“It doesn’t matter whether it’s a buck or a million, it’s the principle.”

“Consider the dollar as part of your endowment then.”

He thought about that for nearly a minute, then said, “I can live with that.”

I had the signed paper, the negative, and the print, and Rufus had a check for fifty dollars, plus a single out of my own wallet. It had been way too much work completing the transaction, but in the end, everyone’s sensibilities had been met.

I started for the door when Rufus said, “Hang on a second.”

I waited while he dug through a pile of photographs on the counter. “I almost forgot. Here are the rest of the shots I took of your shop.”

“I thought you already gave them all to me.”

“No, this was from the roll still in my camera.”

I knew what the answer was going to be, but I had to ask anyway. “Can I pay you for these?”

“Not a chance,” he said with a grin as he held up my check. “I’ve got it covered. I just got an endowment.”

I laughed as I left, happy that at least one thing had gone right today. I took the new photographs and put them on the Miata’s passenger seat. I was about to drive off when I heard someone calling my name. It was Kelly Sheer, and from the expression on her face, something was terribly wrong.

THIRTEEN

“
BεN,
do you have a second?” she asked, looking into the bookstore as she said it. “I won’t take much of your time. I’m sure you’re busy.”

“Actually, I’m not,” I said. I noticed that Kelly was still staring inside Dying To Read. “You don’t have to worry. She’s not in there.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” she said. “Would you mind coming over to my office? I’d be more comfortable talking to you there.”

We both noticed Rufus watching us, and I said, “That sounds like a good idea. Let me move my car, and I’ll meet you over there.”

I saluted Rufus, then got into the Miata. It was a quicker walk than it was a drive, since I had to go around the block to find a spot, but the last thing in the world I wanted was for Diana to come back and spot my car parked in front of her bookstore.

Kelly was waiting for me as I pulled up in front of her office. “I appreciate you doing this, Ben.”

“I’m happy to,” I said, though I was dying of curiosity about why she wanted to talk to me.

I was surprised to find boxes in Kelly’s outer office.

“What’s going on?” I asked as I followed her in. “Are you getting a partner?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” she said. “Ben, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just tell you straight out. I’m leaving Harper’s Landing.”

“Why?” I was honestly shocked. When Kelly had moved to town, I thought she’d be here for good.

I could see she was fighting back tears, but she kept a stoic expression as she said, “This reconciliation with Wade has been a disaster. I probably don’t have to tell you that, do I?”

“I knew you were going through a rough patch,” I admitted.

“It’s been more than that,” she said. “We’ve both finally realized that we just don’t make sense together.”

“How’s Annie taking it?” I asked. Kelly’s daughter had been a big reason we’d had so much trouble, but I’d never blamed her for a second. What child of divorced parents didn’t want them to get back together at some point in their lives?

“Do you want to know the truth? I think she’s relieved.”

“Then it’s probably for the best. I don’t understand why you have to move away from Harper’s Landing, though. We’re going to miss you.”

Kelly bit her lip for a second, then said, “Wade’s going back to Charlotte, and though he probably doesn’t care if he ever sees me again, he finally realizes how much he’s missed Annie. She’s bonded with him too since he’s been here, and I can’t keep them apart.”

I stood. “Kelly, I can’t tell you how to run your life, but you’ve got a stake in this, too.”

“What do you mean?”

I was trying to keep my anger inside, but I wasn’t doing a very good job of it. “Charlotte’s just an hour and half away. Let him come up whenever he wants to see her, but don’t give up your new life here, your new friends.”

She shook her head. “It’s not that simple.”

“It can be if you want it to be,” I said.

“I’m sorry, Ben.”

“I am, too.” I left, afraid of what else I might say. It wasn’t the way I would have preferred to say good-bye, but then I didn’t think she should go. Sacrificing for her child was one thing, but she was doing this for the convenience of her ex-husband, a man who didn’t deserve the consideration, from everything she’d told me about him. Nothing I’d seen or heard around town had contradicted my low opinion of the man, either.

I drove back to the soap shop, more miserable than I’d been in quite awhile. A few days ago, I’d been happy being with Diana and was just starting to get used to having Kelly as a friend. Now it looked like neither one of them would be in my life very much longer. Though Diana wasn’t moving away—at least not that I knew of—she’d moved away from me in her heart. Honestly, the damage that had been done recently might never be repaired.

I barely said a word to my brothers and sisters as I stormed up to my office. In a fit of anger, I brushed my desk clear with the back of one arm, sending bills, invoices, and Rufus’s photographs flying through the room.

Mom picked that moment to come in without knocking.

“Benjamin,” she said as she studied the mess on the floor, “if you’d planned to redecorate in here, the least you could have done was tell me about it beforehand.”

As I started to clean up the mess, she bent down to help.

“I’ve got it,” I said, not meaning to snap at her, but not able to pull it back in, either.

“Nonsense. Do you expect me to stand here and watch you work? It will go faster if we work together.”

“Suit yourself,” I said.

As we sorted the photographs from the rest of the papers, Mom said, “I know there must be some reason for this outburst.”

“There is,” I said.

She stared at me a moment, then asked, “Would you care to share it with your mother?”

“Not particularly.”

“How about one of your brothers or sisters? They’re all concerned about you, Benjamin.”

I shook my head. “Well, tell them not to worry. I’m just peachy keen.”

“I can see that,” she said, raising one eyebrow as she did.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Kelly’s leaving town,” I announced, “and the way Diana and I are going, we won’t be together much longer either.”

Mom took it in and continued to work.

Finally, she said, “And which event bothers you more?”

“That’s an excellent question,” I said. “And I wish I had an excellent answer for you. Honestly, the truth is, I don’t know.”

“Thus the explosion,” she said. “As tantrums go, this wasn’t much of one, was it?”

I smiled at her. “Would it make you feel better if I threw my chair through the window?”

“No, I think you contained yourself rather well, given the circumstances. How odd.”

I didn’t even look up as I kept working. “What, that I managed to keep my temper in check?”

I looked over at her and saw that she was staring at a photograph. “This wasn’t here before.”

I looked at what she was holding and saw another image of the soap shop, this one with a crowd of people standing around waiting to get in. “So? Rufus gave me the rest of his prints. He was pleased we liked his work.” There was no need to go into detail on the tap dance I’d had to do to get him to accept our money.

Mom tapped the picture with her index finger. “Benjamin, do you see this?”

I took it from her and studied it. There was a woman wearing a red hat a few steps away from the crowd, and though most of her body was obscured by the camera lens, the hat was clear enough. “What about it?”

“It’s the same hat as the one in Connie Brown’s publicity photo. So why wasn’t she wearing it when she came into the shop?”

“Who knows,” I said. “Maybe she got tired of it.” I looked a little harder at the picture and saw someone else I hadn’t noticed in any of the shots before. Brian Ross, the cop who had come up with an alibi across town when the Soap Celebration was going on, was standing in front of Where There’s Soap. There was something about his body language that made me think he was coiled and ready to strike. Though his back was turned to the contessa, I couldn’t help wondering if he’d been there to deal with her rejection of him.

“Spread out the photographs so we can see if there’s one before or after this one,” I commanded. “We need to see if Rufus took any of these in sequence.”

Mom and I gathered all of the shots together and laid them on my clean desktop, but the one she’d spotted was the only image that showed either figure in it.

Mom said, “Call Rufus and see if he took any more pictures.”

“We’ve got them all,” I said. “This is the only one that shows either one of them.”

I grabbed the picture and started for the door. “Where are you going, Benjamin? And what about this mess?”

“Leave it,” I said. “I need to talk to Molly.”

I went to the police station and found the same gruff desk sergeant there who had given me a hard time before.

“I need to see Detective Wilkes,” I said.

“Sorry, she’s unavailable,” he said, barely looking up from his paperwork.

“Can you tell me where she is?”

“No,” he said as he looked up at me, then added, “department policy.”

I walked outside and called her on my cell phone. When she picked up, I said, “Molly, I need to see you, but the pit bull at the front desk won’t let me in.”

“Ben, I really don’t have time for you right now.”

“You’ll want to see what I’ve got in my hand. Believe me.”

She hesitated, then said, “Go wait in your car. I’ll be out in ten minutes.”

I did as I was told, and the more I stared at the photograph, the more convinced I was that Brian Ross was at our shop for all the wrong reasons. There was something about the man that set me on edge. I just hoped Molly could see it.

There was a tap on my window fifteen minutes later, and Molly got in the passenger seat of the Miata. “What’s so important?”

I handed her the photograph. “Recognize anyone?”

She studied it for a few seconds, then said, “It’s Brian Ross.”

“I thought he was somewhere else during the event at my shop.”

“So did I,” she said.

“There’s something else. See that woman in the red hat?”

“Barely,” Molly acknowledged.

“It’s Connie Brown. Don’t you find it more than a little odd that he’s that close to her? Look at the way he’s standing. It shouts out that he’s angry about something.”