Fatal Brushstroke (An Aurora Anderson Mystery Book 1) (24 page)

Chapter 36

After her run-in with Detective Green, Rory decided to look over the condo complex where the arson had occurred in case something at the site pointed her in the direction of the person bent on destroying her life. Too impatient to wait for Liz to become available, she drove over to the Ocean Park condominium complex by herself, sure she’d figure out a way to get inside. But when she arrived, she found the area deserted and the entrance locked.

Rory rattled the knob of the metal gate leading into the complex, hoping it would miraculously spring open. But the gate remained firmly shut. Before taking a tour of the perimeter to see if there was another entrance, she tried the intercom in hopes a trusting resident would buzz her inside. The system appeared to be broken: all she heard when she lifted the receiver was static and none of the buttons seemed to work. Grumbling to herself, Rory replaced the worthless earpiece. She was turning around when Providence, in the form of a petite, middle-aged blonde, came to her rescue.

“Can I help you? The intercom isn’t out again, is it?” she said. Before Rory could reply, the light of recognition dawned in the woman’s eyes. “You were at the open house the other day, weren’t you?”

Sensing the resident was her ticket inside, Rory put on her best interested-buyer persona. “Yes, I was. I’m thinking of making an offer, but I wanted to check out the security first.”

The woman cocked an eyebrow. “Without your real estate agent?”

“She can be a little...pushy at times.” Rory felt guilty about the lie, but she figured there was little chance of any serious repercussions to Liz’s career. The condo complex resident probably didn’t even remember who had accompanied Rory to the open house.

“I know the type. You don’t have to worry about security here. This is a nice neighborhood.”

“Is it? I heard about...” Rory lowered her voice even though there was no one nearby to overhear. “...the fire. Arson, right? Was it someone who lives here?”

The woman recoiled in horror at the thought the complex was harboring a pyromaniac. “Absolutely not! Nothing like that has ever happened here before. It’s really a very safe place to live.”

“How do you think they got in, then? Is it easy for just anybody to get inside?”

“I hate to say it, but some people here aren’t as security conscious as others. I’ve found the gate propped open on a number of occasions,” the woman grudgingly admitted. “Though not very often and not for long,” she hastened to add.

So, given enough patience, anyone could have slipped inside, Rory thought. She’d have to figure out another way to narrow down the list of suspects. “Was there much damage?”

“Hardly any at all. The common room needs repairs, but that’s about it. The neighboring units were never in danger.”

Rory plastered a skeptical expression on her face. “I’m not sure I’d feel safe here now. I think they’ll have to bring the price of the unit down before anyone will consider it, don’t you?”

Threatened with the possibility of shrinking home values, the woman introduced herself and invited Rory inside to prove everything was fine in the Ocean Park development. Rory followed her escort through the gate and down the path toward the common room.

She had to stop herself from speeding up when they passed Julian’s townhome even though she knew he was at the police station.

When they reached their destination, Rory examined the exterior of the building she’d been inside two days ago. The only evidence anything unusual had happened here was yellow crime scene tape preventing her from entering the building and a faint burnt smell in the air.

Rory’s escort waved her hand. “See. The fire started in the kitchen in the middle of the night, but the fire department got to it before it did much damage. You can hardly tell from the outside anything happened at all. Everything will be back to normal in no time.”

If the fire started inside the building, the arsonist must be someone who had access, Rory thought. “Isn’t the common room locked at night?”

“Always. The only people who have keys are the management company and condo board members like myself.”

Rory wondered if Julian was one of those who had twenty-four-hour access to the building. If he was worried she might find something that pointed to his guilt, he could have found a way to start a fire inside to destroy any incriminating evidence as well as direct attention to Rory, effectively derailing her own investigation. He’d lived or worked in the city long enough to know all about her parents’ criminal exploits and could guess the conclusions the police would reach. The fire couldn’t be a coincidence. Who else would bother to frame her? “He
must
have done it,” Rory said to herself, forgetting for a moment about the woman standing next to her.

“Who are you talking about?”

Rory was glad she hadn’t uttered Julian’s name. She didn’t need a slander lawsuit in addition to all her other problems. “The arsonist, of course. If the doors were locked, how’d he get in the building?”

The woman’s gaze darted toward the landscaping near the entrance. “Someone must have gotten hold of a key.”

Rory suspected one of the rocks, or possibly even a sprinkler head, was a fake with the key hidden in a secret compartment. She’d have to come back later when the woman, who was now eyeing her suspiciously, wasn’t watching her every move. Besides, right now she not only had work to do, but a wake to attend.

When Rory walked into Baxter’s at six o’clock that evening, she experienced a sense of déjà vu. Many of the people who’d attended Hester’s memorial service, dressed in the same or similar outfits, milled around the private room reserved for Trudy’s wake. Some ordered drinks at the bar that stretched across one wall while others sat at tables scattered around the floor. Just as she had at Hester’s service, Veronica snapped photos of the event.

As soon as Rory stepped inside, a dozen well-coifed heads turned in her direction and a hush fell over the crowd. Resisting the urge to run back outside, she plastered a smile on her face and wended her way through the group to join Liz at a table on the far side of the oak-paneled room. By the time she sat down, the buzz of conversation had resumed and the noise level had returned to normal. Moments later, a waitress stopped by to take her order.

Once the waitress left, Rory nodded at a woman at the next table who ignored the greeting and repositioned her chair so its back faced Rory. The woman leaned in to whisper something to her companion.

“Maybe I should leave,” Rory said.

“Nonsense. You have every right to be here. Don’t let anyone chase you out.” Liz raised her martini glass to someone across the room.

Rory turned in time to see a man swivel his bar stool around. She settled back in her chair, vowing to ignore any furtive glances headed in her direction. “Is there a program? Or do we just socialize?”

“I think Julian’s supposed to give a short speech later on, but mostly it’s an informal gathering.”

Rory lowered her voice. “If he shows up. Detective Green may not be done with him yet.”

Liz leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. “What’s Dashing D up to now?”

“He took Julian down to the police station earlier for a ‘chat.’” A blast of cold air hit Rory across her shoulders. She eyed the vent in the ceiling above the table. The air conditioning was cranked up a little too high for her taste. Glad she’d worn a blazer with her jeans and polo shirt, she took a sip of the glass of Pinot Grigio the waitress had just delivered.

“Nora’s over there.” Liz nodded toward a table near the doorway that led into the main part of the bar. “Maybe she knows what’s going on.” She stood up and waved Julian’s assistant over to join them.

Nora threaded her way through the crowd, shivering as she sat down at their table. “It’s a tad cold in here.” She adjusted her scarf a bit tighter around her neck. Before they could ask any questions, the woman said, “I want to show you two something.” She dug around in her purse. When she couldn’t immediately find what she was looking for, she started taking items out and placing them on the table. Cell phone, car keys with a steering wheel logo, wallet, and coin purse soon joined the pile. “Whatever you want is always at the bottom.”

“It’s the Rule of the Purse,” Liz said.

When a tube of lipstick rolled off the table, Rory chased it across the floor. She returned with it in her hand to find Nora unfolding an eight-and-a-half by eleven sheet of paper. “Here it is. They’re just preliminary sketches. Tell me what you think.” She handed the drawing to Liz who examined it before passing it on to Rory.

“Nice. Is this for a book?” Liz said.

“I’m thinking pattern packet.”

While Rory oohed and aahed over the design, Nora returned everything to her purse. Near the bottom of the pile on the tabletop, Rory caught a glimpse of a wooden flower. She was glad the woman had found her pin. After seeing it, she understood why it had been lost: The pin back had come unglued. That had happened to one or two of Rory’s tole painting friends though none of them had been lucky enough to find their lost item.

After they finished talking about the designs, Liz said, “Nora, what’s the agenda for tonight? Will Julian be available to give a speech?”

Nora cast a glance in Rory’s direction. “I suppose people have been talking about the detective’s visit to the office earlier today. It looked bad for a while, but the police grilled him and let him go. He should be here shortly.”

“So they didn’t arrest him?” Liz said.

“Might as well have,” a raspy voice answered. “His reputation’s ruined when word gets out what he’s been up to. I’d look for a new job if I were you, Nora.” Veronica aimed a camera at the three of them. “Say cheese.” Before anyone had time to protest, the flash went off and the camera shutter clicked.

As soon as the photo was taken, Nora excused herself and Veronica jotted something down on her notepad. Once Julian’s assistant was out of earshot, Rory said to the photographer, “What was that about?”

Veronica looked up from her notes. “Didn’t you hear? All those false alarms around town. As you know, that was Kevin’s doing, but he wasn’t the only one involved. His father was in on it, too. Kevin made sure the alarms were never fixed properly so his dad could swoop in and grab the business from the disgruntled customers.”

So that’s why Kevin worked at Vista Beach Security, Rory thought. Maybe Hester found out about the plot and threatened to go to the police unless they stopped. Either one of the conspirators could have decided to silence her permanently.

“So, when Julian threw Kevin under the bus, he lashed out and told the police everything. Did he out his father on your blog? Is that why you deleted the comment?” Rory said.

Veronica fiddled with her camera. “At the time, I thought he was just mad at his father. Now I know better, of course. Still, Julian has clout in this town, especially with my boss. Or he did, anyway.” She glanced over her shoulder at the room’s entrance. “Here he is now.” Veronica hurried to join the knot of unattached females clustered around the recent widower.

Liz eyed the group of fawning women. “I guess
they
don’t care about his shady business practices.”

“Or they don’t know about it. The police haven’t arrested him, after all.” Rory thought about how Julian had tried to tarnish a rival company’s reputation, but all he’d really succeeded in doing was ruining his own.

“Doesn’t mean they won’t.” Liz took a sip of her martini. “We didn’t get a chance to ask Miss Snoop about why she was surveilling your house.”

“I suspect she was playing investigative reporter. Not sure how much I trust her. I found her belly button ring on the floor of the classroom.” Rory told her friend about the tiny hoop she’d found on the floor the day after the vandals struck.

“She might have lost it earlier. It’s small enough, it could have been lying undetected on the carpet for a while.” Liz took a sip of her drink and nodded toward the entrance into the room. “Looks like your mom’s here.”

Arika waved hello to a few friends, then passed by the group gathered around the widower and headed toward their table. A thoughtful look on her face, she settled down in the chair Nora had recently vacated.

“Everything okay, Mom?”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Arika looked around the room. “Is that nice young detective around?”

“Detective Green? Haven’t seen him. Why?”

“I think...I think I know what I smelled that night. When someone broke into the store.” Arika rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “It was a strong odor. A sort of musky scent.”

That could describe any number of perfumes or colognes, Rory thought. It didn’t narrow down the field much. “I can call him if you like.” She took out her cell phone, but before she could find the detective’s number, her mother said, “It’s probably not important. It can wait.”

Half an hour later, Julian stood near the entrance to the private room and clinked a spoon against his whiskey glass. Once silence settled over the group and everyone’s attention was focused in his direction, he began his remarks. “Thank you all for coming. Trudy didn’t wish to have a funeral or formal memorial service. She wanted her friends to just get together and share a few laughs. So, drink up, laugh, and reminisce about her too-short life.” He raised his glass to the crowd. “To Trudy.”

Everyone raised their glasses in response and faint cries of “To Trudy” could be heard throughout the room. Afterward, Julian moved from table to table, accompanied by a group of his admirers, and greeted each attendee personally.

Rory and Liz spent another hour at the event, then picked up Chinese food for dinner and headed back to Rory’s house. They sat in the living room and ate. In between bites they talked about the painting projects they were currently working on. They’d almost finished their dinner when the conversation turned to the murders.

“What do you think our next move should be?” Liz said.

Rory stuck her chopsticks in the container of kung pao chicken she’d been eating and placed it on the coffee table. “Veronica posted photos of the paint-a-thon. Maybe something in them will give us a new avenue of research.”

Liz nodded her head in agreement. “Let’s take a look at them.”

After putting away the leftover food, the two settled down in front of Rory’s computer and viewed the latest posts on Vista Beach Confidential—a chatty account of Saturday’s paint-a-thon complete with photos as well as a more abbreviated one of the event at Baxter’s.