A Real Pickle (18 page)

“It’s okay,” she said with a smile before she turned back to Jeffrey.  “Victoria is right about one thing.  You need to think this through before you do
anything
.  There’s a great deal of good you can do with the resources we’re talking about here.”

“That’s true,” he said.  “I never thought about it that way.”

“Perhaps you should,” she said.  “Besides, it’s not in your pocket yet, not by any stretch of the imagination.  I have a feeling that the family isn’t going to accept this without fighting you first.”

“You’re right about that,” Jeffrey said with a grin.  “Curtis would have relished the battle; I’m sure of that much.  Okay, for now, we’ll just proceed as we have been.  After all, in the end it doesn’t matter who inherits Curtis’s estate.  All that we need to worry about is straightening out this mess of paperwork.”

“It matters a little,” Moose said softly, but I didn’t think anyone else heard it.

“What was that?” Jeffrey asked.

“Not important.  Can I ask you for a favor, Jeffrey?”

“Anything,” he said.

Moose grinned.  “You need to be very careful now about saying that.”  Funny, I’d given him the exact same advice earlier, but it meant a great deal more now that he was going to be rich.

“Note taken,” he said.  “What can I do for you?”

“It’s not really a favor; it’s more like a piece of advice.  I wouldn’t be in any hurry to tell the others about this new development.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Renee said.  “There’s no use stirring up any more trouble at the moment than you’ve already got on your hands.  You have enough to deal with as it is.”

“Okay, I can see that.  We’ll just keep this between ourselves for the time being.”

 “We’ll leave you to your books, then,” I said.

As Moose and I left them, I couldn’t help but notice that it mattered to someone else, too.  

Renee was a good three feet away from Jeffrey now, a dramatic change since he’d learned that he was going to be rich beyond all dreams of avarice.  I hoped that she didn’t let that put a stumbling block between them, but I promised myself that I’d butt out and leave them to figure it out for themselves.

Unless they made the wrong decision, of course.

“We need to talk to Sarah,” I told my grandfather once we left Renee and Jeffrey.  

“You’re thinking about that checkbook ledger entry, aren’t you?”

“I think it’s interesting that she got twenty thousand dollars, but Tristan didn’t,” I said.  “That’s a lot of money.”

“Maybe for us,” Moose said, “but was it much more than pocket change for Curtis?”

“He might have been rich, but I don’t think that he ever
threw
it away.”

“If Sarah is still posing for her brother, should we wait until they’re apart to ask her about it?” Moose asked me.

“Actually, we
might
get better results if we ask her in
front
of Tristan,” I said.

My grandfather smiled at me.  “You never were afraid to stir the pot, were you?”

“I just think we have a better chance of seeing their true characters if we press them together.  Who knows?  Maybe there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for it.”

“I’m looking forward to hearing it,” Moose said.

Humphries was in the hallway, so I called out to him, “Do you have a second?”

“Certainly,” he said.  

“Where might we find Tristan and Sarah?”

The butler frowned before he answered.  “Mr. Wellborne doesn’t like to be disturbed while he’s working.  He can be quite emphatic about it.”

“Don’t worry.  We won’t tell him how we found him,” I said.

Humphries nodded.  “His studio is in the loft above the garage.  It has its own separate staircase.”

“I thought Jeffrey’s apartment was above the garage,” I said.

“It is, but he only has a small portion of it, hardly bigger than a closet.  The main space is Mr. Wellborne’s art studio.”

It was ironic that Jeffrey had been living in such a small space before, and now he was going to own everything of value around him, including a great deal of square footage.  “Thank you, Humphries,” I said.

“For what?” he asked with a slight smile.

Moose grinned in return.  “That’s right, Victoria.  I’m sorry that Humphries couldn’t help us, too.  We’ll just have to find Tristan and Sarah on our own.”

“Why don’t we look above the garage?” I said, getting into the spirit of things.

“It’s as good a place to begin as any,” my grandfather said.

Humphries managed a smile as we walked past him.  Maybe I’d made amends, but I wasn’t about to press him soon about anything.

Moose and I walked outside, and the dark clouds above us were again ominous.  It had been raining, storming, or just about to rain or storm since we’d gotten to the Pickle Palace, and there was a small, albeit irrational part of me that thought it was Curtis showing his anger from the great beyond about being murdered.  It was nonsense, of course, but I still couldn’t help thinking it.

A set of iron steps ran up one side of the garage, and Moose and I mounted them gingerly.  We were about to intentionally irritate two of our suspects, and one of them was possibly a murderer.  Hopefully it would get results.  We were running out of time, and nobody was more aware of it than we were.  Curtis’s memorial was scheduled for the next morning, and at that point, we’d lose access to nearly all of our suspects.  

It was time to turn up the heat.

“No one is allowed in here while I’m working!” Tristan snapped at my grandfather and me as we walked into the studio uninvited.

“In our defense, we knocked first,” I said, trying to be heard over the loud music playing in the background.  “Can you turn that down a little?”

“It helps me focus,” he said loudly.

Sarah was sitting on a chair holding a parasol and looking absolutely bored to tears.  “For heaven’s sake, Tristan, it’s giving me a headache, too.”  She stood to turn the music down.

“Sit back down!” he commanded her.  

“Then turn the music off,” she shouted back.

He did it, although it was clear that it was a reluctant decision on his part.  “What do you two want?” he asked as he turned to us.  I couldn’t see his canvas, and as tempted as I was to walk over and take a peek at it, I decided to fight the impulse.

“We need to speak with Sarah,” Moose said.

“She can’t be bothered right now.  My work is at a critical stage.”

“You don’t need to
do
anything,” I said.  “Sarah, would you mind answering a question for us?”

She rolled her eyes.  “You two are as bad as my brother.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked her as his brush hovered above the canvas.

“Everyone wants
something
from me,” she said.  Sarah turned to me and asked, “What is it that you want to know?”

“Why did your uncle write you a check for twenty thousand dollars last week?” I asked.

“He what!” Tristan shouted.  “That’s ridiculous.  You must be mistaken.”

“We saw the entry in his checkbook ledger ourselves,” Moose said matter-of-factly.

“What were you doing looking at that?” Sarah asked, nicely sidestepping our question.  “I was willing to put up with the inconvenience of having you compiling something about my uncle, but you’ve gone too far.  There’s no reason at all for you to look through his personal things.”

She wasn’t about to put me off that easily.  “We have Jeffrey’s full approval for everything that we’re doing,” I said.  “If you have any problem with that, you’ll have to take it up with him.”

“I will,” Sarah said as she stood again.

“Sarah!” Tristan snapped.

“Oh stuff it, dear brother,” she said as she threw down the parasol that she’d been holding.  “I’m tired of this.”  

As she walked straight at him, he tried to stop her.  “It’s not ready yet.”

“Too bad.  I’ve at least earned the right to look at what you’ve been doing.”  She pushed past him and then stood in front of the canvas for a full ten seconds before she spoke.  “
This
is what you’ve been doing all of this time?  Are you
kidding
me?”

It was too good a chance to pass up, so I walked toward the canvas as well.  I got there before Moose, but not by much.  The vivid dabs of paint on his palette, the selection of brushes, the scent of the turpentine, even the structured lines of the canvas and the easel made him look like a real artist.

I wasn’t so sure of that when I saw the result of his work.

The canvas sported a series of faintly penciled lines, some parallel and some not, running in all kinds of different directions.  Within this grid, there were dabs and splashes of color.  Examined up close, it was something a child could do, but as I stepped back, the form on the canvas began to show itself.  If I looked at it just so, I could start to see Sarah emerge.  Not the girl herself, but a representation of her, at any rate.

“It’s rubbish,” the model snapped.

“I don’t know.  I think I see where he’s going,” I said.

Moose looked at me with a startled expression.  “Seriously?”

“Stand back here and look at it,” I said.

He did as I asked, but my grandfather still shook his head at the sight.  “Sorry, but I don’t see it.”

“That’s because you have a pedestrian eye,” Tristan said, and then he turned to me.  “Do you really see what I’m striving to achieve?”

“I do,” I answered honestly.  “I can’t wait to see it finished.”

“Well, you’re going to have to wait a very long time,” Sarah said.  “I’m finished posing for it.”

“You can’t,” Tristan said.  “I need you.”

“Sorry,” Sarah said as she started to leave.  Tristan may have been completely distracted by his sister’s actions and my comments, but I couldn’t afford to let it happen to me.

I stepped in front of Sarah.  “Why did he write you that check?”

“It’s none of your business,” she said.

“I already told you.  It’s my business now,” I said.

“I want to know the answer to that question myself,” Tristan said.  Was he backing me because he really wanted to know, or was he just returning the favor?  As long as it worked for me, I didn’t particularly care.

“We made a bet, and he lost,” Sarah said.

“That’s a lie,” I said.  “Curtis hated gambling.”  I remembered Jeffrey’s comments about his own debts, and his reluctance to discuss them with his employer and friend.

“That’s true,” Tristan said.  “What’s going on, Sarah?”

“It was for my ex, okay?  Are you happy now?” she asked as she glared at me.

“What about him?” Tristan asked.

“He threatened to post some embarrassing video of us together on the Internet if I didn’t pay him, and Uncle Curtis agreed to help me.”

“Why should I believe you?” Tristan asked her.

“Would I have just admitted it to you if it weren’t true?  Why would I do that, Tristan?”

“Maybe you’re hiding something even worse,” he said.

Sarah looked at her brother with a sneer, and then moved it on to my grandfather and me.  “I don’t have to stay here and take this.”  She narrowed her focus to me as she added, “You need to move.”

I looked at Moose, and he just shrugged, so I stepped aside.

Once she was gone, I asked Tristan, “What do you know about her ex-husband?”

“Oh, Nat is a real prize.  I wouldn’t put it past him for a second.”

“How do we find him?” Moose asked him.

“Is it really all that important now?” Tristan asked.

“I’d like to know if it’s true,” my grandfather said.

Tristan shrugged.  “I’ve still got his number on my phone from when they were married.  I can call him for you, if you’d like.”

It was odd to have Tristan helping us, but I wasn’t about to turn it down.  “That would be great.  Could you put him on speakerphone?”  

“Sure, why not?”

A gruff man picked up on the third ring.  “Tris?  I never expected to hear from you again.”

“Hey, Nat.  Listen, I just talked to Sarah—”

“She’s lying,” he said.  “I never asked her for anything.”

“Slow down,” Tristan said.  “At least let me finish.”

“And listen to whatever lies she said about me?  I don’t think so.”

“Answer one thing for me first.  You owe me that much, or do I need to remind you?”

There was a slight pause, and Nat’s voice came back on a little more contrite.  “Make it quick.”

“Did you at least delete the video like you promised?”

He paused even longer before he answered this time.  “If you’re taping this, you know that it won’t stand up in court.”

“It’s just us,” Tristan said as he made a shushing gesture to Moose and me.

“I promise you that your sister will never hear from me again.”  With the weight he used in his words, I believed him.  “Do me a favor and lose this number, okay?  We’re finished, too.”

“Done,” Tristan said, and he reached out and disconnected the call.

“So, she was telling the truth after all,” Tristan said.

“After we pushed her some, it appears that she finally did,” Moose said.

“I still wouldn’t turn my back on her if I were you two,” Tristan said as he turned back to his canvas.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

“Without your model?” my grandfather asked him.

“I can work from memory for now,” he said.  Almost absentmindedly, he reached out and turned the music back on, cranking it up to a volume so loud that any further possibility of conversation was over.

We could still hear the bass booming from outside.  

“It appears that the interview is over,” my grandfather said with a smile.  “I was wondering how long your goodwill was going to last.  Did you really see something in that train wreck of a painting?”

“I wasn’t lying,” I said.  “I think that it has real potential.”

“Victoria, do me a favor; never buy art for me.”

“Agreed,” I said.  “At least we got an explanation for the check Curtis wrote for Sarah.”

“It doesn’t do anything to clear her of his murder though, does it?”

“No, I’m afraid we’re still stuck with our original list of suspects,” I said.