Summer in Eclipse Bay (22 page)

“Yes, as a matter of fact. I'm getting close.”

“That's wonderful,” Marjorie said vaguely.

“I'm working on this theory, you see. I figure that when I find out who started the rumors, I'll have the thief.”

Marjorie cleared her throat. “Is that so? I don't see why there would be any connection…?” She let the remainder of the question dangle in thin air.

“There's a connection, all right,” Nick assured her with the grave authority of an expert in his field. “It's obvious that someone is promoting the gossip in order to divert attention from himself.” He gave it half a beat before adding very deliberately, “Or
herself,
as the case may be. It's an old tactic.”

“It is?” Marjorie asked warily.

“Sure. Thieves and bad guys use it all the time. That's why the first thing law enforcement types do is check out the rumors surrounding a crime. They call it following leads.”

“I see.” Marjorie cleared her throat again. “I didn't know that.”

“Probably because you've never read one of my books,” Nick said very politely.

Octavia gritted her teeth. Things were getting nasty out there. She tried to sort more swiftly through the pictures. She was pretty sure Katy had done a drawing of a house. And she thought she recalled a big yellow flower, too.

“I'm making a list of everyone who repeats the gossip,” Nick explained. “Checking out the sources. See who's trying to spread the rumors.”

“That doesn't sound very helpful.” Marjorie sounded a little desperate now.

“When I'm done, I'll give the list to Sean Valentine so that he can take a closer look at some of the people on it. I figure it's safe to say that someone on the list will prove to be the guilty party.”

“I don't think you can make that assumption.” Alarm registered in Marjorie's voice. “I mean, that's ridiculous. Everyone in town is spreading that gossip.”

“Not quite everyone,” Nick said. “For instance, I'll bet Gail, here, hasn't repeated the rumors.”

“Nope, not me,” Gail assured them with ferocious glee. “I wouldn't spread that kind of outrageous nonsense. I've got my position in the community to consider. After all, my family is third-generation here in Eclipse Bay. Same as yours, Marjorie.”

“Well, I heard the story from Betty Stiles down at Fulton's,” Marjorie said. Defensive now. “I have no idea where she got it.”

“Thanks, I'll talk to Betty,” Nick said smoothly.

“Why waste your time?” Marjorie asked. “It's Sean Valentine's job to find that painting.”

“I'm doing this as a favor,” Nick said. “Octavia is what you might call a close friend of the family.”

There was another short pause.

“I see,” Marjorie said cautiously.

Octavia spotted Katy's picture and snatched it out of the stack of framed drawings. She hurried toward the door.

“Here's your daughter's picture.” She thrust it across the counter toward Marjorie. “It's a lovely drawing. Nice feel for color. Tell her she can keep the frame. Compliments of the gallery.”

“Thank you. I truly do regret this. But I have to consider Gordon's position.” Marjorie took the picture somewhat uncertainly and turned back to Nick. “Good luck with your little investigation.”

“I'm sure we'll find out who took the painting,” he said with astounding confidence. “My list is almost finished.”

“Yes, well, I certainly hope you get the situation resolved soon.” Marjorie summoned up a polished smile. “By the way, since you're in town for the summer, I'll be sure to send an invitation to Katy's birthday party to Carson. Katy's turning six in August, you know.”

“I appreciate the thought,” Nick said, “but it would probably be better not to bother with the invitation. I'm sure you can understand my situation here. I can't allow Carson to attend a birthday party given for a child whose mother's name is on my list. Got to consider Carson's position in the community, you see.”

Marjorie's jaw dropped visibly. Shock and horror blended in her expression.

Octavia had a sudden urge to cover her face with both hands. Beside her, Gail did not make any attempt to conceal a satisfied grin.

Marjorie pulled herself together with commendable speed. “How dare you imply that I…that I'm on your list.”

“Don't worry about it, Marjorie,” Nick said. “When this is all over, I'm sure everyone will eventually forget who was on the list and who wasn't.”

“Of all the—” Marjorie was overcome with outrage. Unable to speak, she simply stood there, glaring helplessly.

“You know,” Nick went on as if nothing awkward had been said, “if you'd like to assist in the investigation, I'd be very grateful. In fact, everyone in my family would really appreciate the favor. Given your position in the community, you could be very helpful.”

Marjorie's mouth worked once or twice before she managed to speak. “Well, of course, I'd love to help you but I honestly don't see how I could be of any more assistance. I told you, it was Betty Stiles who is spreading the story.”

“I'll be talking to Betty next,” Nick assured her. “But, since you've offered to help, there is one thing you could do that would go a long way toward narrowing my list.”

“What's that?”

Nick glanced at the picture Marjorie clutched in her beringed hands. “Leave Katy's drawing here with the others. It will send a strong signal to the community that you don't think the rumors are true.”

Marjorie was trapped and they all knew it. She shot a fulminating look at Octavia, and then she put the picture down on the counter and turned back to Nick with an earnest smile. “Well, if you really think it would help—”

“Oh, yeah,” Nick said. “No question about it. Like I said, I really appreciate it.”

“About your list,” Marjorie added delicately.

“Obviously I won't have to add you to it,” Nick said.

That seemed to cheer Marjorie slightly. She went quickly toward the door. “I hope it won't take you and Sean long to end this matter.”

“It won't,” Nick said.

They all watched in silence as Marjorie fled out the door and down the sidewalk toward the parking lot.

Octavia rested both elbows on the counter, propped her chin on her hands, and looked at Gail and Nick in turn. “Don't get me wrong. I am deeply touched. But I'm not sure that coercing Marjorie into leaving Katy's painting here was smart.”

“Who cares about smart?” Gail said. “It felt good.”

“That was Marjorie Dunne, for heaven's sake,” Octavia reminded her dryly. “She's the wife of a member of the town council. Probably the wife of the next mayor of Eclipse Bay.”

“So what?” Gail said with a chuckle. “This is Nick Harte. His family can buy and sell the entire town council and the mayor, too. In point of fact, if old legends are to be believed, they have done just that on a number of occasions.”

“Be fair,” Nick said to her. “It's not our fault that the council and the mayor have historically shown a certain willingness to accommodate us Hartes in exchange for contributions to their library building funds and pier renovation projects.”

Octavia studied him with fresh appreciation. “My, my. I believe I have just witnessed an exhibition of what is commonly called throwing one's weight around.”

“Relax, Marjorie deserved it,” Gail said. “She has a history of behaving badly to lesser mortals. She was the same in high school. I don't suppose it escaped your notice that she didn't offer to send one of those birthday party invitations to my Anne.”

“I did notice the oversight,” Octavia admitted.

“If it's any consolation,” Nick said, “Anne will get an invitation to Carson's party next month.”

Gail smiled. “Thank you. She'll be thrilled. She hasn't had a chance to make any friends yet here in town.”

“She'll have plenty of opportunity to meet other children her age at Carson's party,” Nick said. “Every kid in town will get invited. Even Katy Dunne.”

Later that afternoon Octavia was in the back, framing the last of the entries in the Children's Art Show, when she heard Jeremy's voice in the other room.

“Gail?” Jeremy sounded surprised and somewhat incredulous. “Gail Johnson?”

“Gail Gillingham these days. Hello, Jeremy. It's been a long time.”

“You can say that again. The last time I saw you, you were just a kid.”

“Not quite. I was in college the last time our paths crossed. I'm surprised you even remember. You had finished grad school and were getting ready to accept a position at a college in Portland, as I recall.”

“That's right. My grandmother mentioned that you were back in town. Said you were looking for a job.”

“I found one, as you can see. It's temporary because Octavia plans to sell her business at the end of the summer, but it will give me some time to look around. I'm hoping something will open up at the institute or at Chamberlain.”

“I'm working at the institute,” Jeremy said. “I'll keep my ears open for you, if you like. There's bound to be some turnover before the fall.”

“Thanks. I'd really appreciate it.”

There was a short pause.

“I guess you probably heard about my divorce last year,” Jeremy said.

“Your grandmother mentioned it,” Gail said gently. “I can empathize. I went through one a couple of years ago. That's the main reason I came back to Eclipse Bay. I wanted my daughter to have more family around her.”

“Sounds like a smart move. Kids need a sense of belonging. Maybe everyone does.”

“Is that why you came back?” Gail asked. She sounded genuinely curious.

“Maybe. In a way, Eclipse Bay will always be home. When the institute offered me the position, it just felt like the right time to make a move.”

Octavia went to the door. Jeremy and Gail stood on opposite sides of the counter. They were looking only at each other, she mused. Neither of them noticed her. She could have sworn she felt vibrations in the air.

She cleared her throat discreetly. Both of them jumped a little and turned toward her with expressions of surprise. She nearly laughed. You'd have thought she'd been hiding in a closet and leaped out unexpectedly.

“Hi, Jeremy,” she said. “Did you bring in your paintings?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I did.” He gestured toward a wooden crate leaning against the counter. “Got two of them right here.”

Gail leaned over the counter. “Octavia said you painted. Let's have a look.”

“I just brought the landscapes with me today.” Jeremy went to work opening the crate. “Octavia thinks that's my most likely market here in Eclipse Bay.”

He hauled one of the pictures out of the crate and propped it against the closest wall. Gail and Octavia came out from behind the counter to examine it.

Gail reacted immediately, her approval evident in her excited tone. “The Arch at sunset. I love it. What's more, I can sell it. It'll be gone by the end of the week.”

Jeremy and Octavia exchanged amused glances.

“Tell you what,” Jeremy said to Gail. “If you sell this sucker in a week, I'll buy you dinner at Dreamscape.”

Gail did not take her eyes off the painting. “It's a deal.”

He ran Betty Stiles to ground outside Carla's Custom Cut & Curl. Betty emerged from the beauty shop with a stiff, cotton-candy cloud of pink hair. The hairdo had been frozen in place with so much lacquer that Nick was pretty sure it could have withstood a nuclear blast. She wore a jaunty denim skirt with a matching vest over a red blouse.

Betty was a widow in her late seventies. She had made a hobby of following every nuance of local gossip for as long as Nick could remember.

“'Afternoon, Mrs. Stiles.” He came away from the fender of his car and walked toward her. “How are you doing?”

“Why, Nick Harte. How nice to see you. I heard you were in town for the summer.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Saw your new book down at Fulton's the other day.”

“Did you?” He would not ask if she had read it, he promised himself.

“I would have bought it because I read a lot of mystery and suspense. But when I read the back cover it didn't say anything about a serial killer.”

“Probably because I didn't put one in the story.”

“I only read books about serial killers.”

“Figures,” Nick said.

“Who would have thought you'd have made a successful career as a writer? You know, the day I heard you'd quit Harte Investments I told Edith Seaton that you were making a big mistake. ‘Edith,' I said, ‘that young man is going to ruin his life and break his grandfather's heart.'”

“We all survived, interestingly enough. Mrs. Stiles, I wondered if I could ask you a few questions.”

“You're trying to find that missing painting, aren't you?” Betty sighed. “Of course you can ask me some questions, but if what I've heard is true, I'm afraid you're wasting your time.”

“Why is that?”

She lowered her voice. “Well, dear, as everyone knows, the most likely suspect is Octavia Brightwell.”

“Funny you should mention that, Mrs. Stiles. I've heard the same thing and I'm trying to find out who started that rumor. Thought maybe you could tell me.”

“You want to know who
started
it?” Betty asked incredulously.

“That's right.”

“But why does it matter, dear? I mean, it's perfectly obvious when you think about it that Miss Brightwell is the person most likely to be the thief.”

“It's not obvious to me,” Nick said.

“Oh.” Betty seemed baffled by that news. Then she gave him a pitying look and patted his arm. “Well, I suppose it's understandable that you would want to think the best of her under the circumstances. But for what it's worth, my advice is to find another girlfriend.”

Nick smiled coldly. The hard part about being a real private eye, he decided, was that sometimes it was extremely difficult to avoid losing your temper. But there was nothing to be gained by telling Betty Stiles that she was an interfering busybody.

“I don't plan to take your advice, Mrs. Stiles. So that leaves me with no choice except to find the real thief.”

“But if Miss Brightwell took the picture—”

“Octavia didn't take it.”

She made a
tut-tut
sound. “You seem very sure of that.”

“I'm sure, Mrs. Stiles.”

“Really, Nicholas, I wouldn't have thought that you were the type to be so easily taken in by a woman's wiles.”

“And here I thought you were too smart to be conned by a thief.”

Betty bridled. “I beg your pardon?”

“Isn't it obvious? Whoever started the rumor is the person who stole the painting.”

“But that's ridiculous.”

“Where did you hear it first, Mrs. Stiles?”

Betty drew herself up with great dignity. “I heard it right here at the beauty shop.”

Nick looked past her through the window and saw two women sitting under the hair dryers. They had magazines on their laps but neither was reading. Both were focused intently on the scene taking place outside the shop. The owner of the salon, Carla Millbank, was watching him in the mirror as she wrapped a client's hair in little pieces of aluminum foil.

His conversation with Betty was going to be all over town by nightfall.

His new problem loomed large. The gender divides in Eclipse Bay were still firmly entrenched. There were some places a man could not go. Carla's Custom Cut & Curl was terra incognita for every male in the community.

Fifteen minutes later he walked into Bright Visions, still fine-tuning the details of his new scheme.

The place appeared to be empty except for Octavia, who was sitting on the high stool behind the counter. She looked up from some notes she was jotting down on a sheet of paper.

“There you are,” she said. “I was getting worried. Did you find Betty Stiles?”

“For all the good it did me.” He studied the two framed paintings leaning against the wall. “I don't remember those. Are they new?”

An odd expression crossed her face. “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“I'm no expert, but I like them.”

“So do I.”

“Nice view of the Arch. The scene of the pier at night is great, too. Sort of moody with the fog and the dark water and that little light on the boat. Who's the artist?”

There was a movement in the doorway behind the counter. Jeremy appeared from the back room. He looked at Nick with a veiled expression.

“That would be me,” Jeremy said.

Gail came to stand beside him. “Isn't he terrific?” She was bubbling with enthusiasm. “I've already got a client in mind.”

Of course it would be Jeremy,
Nick thought. What the hell was the matter with him? How could he have forgotten Jeremy and his
considerable commercial talent.
If he'd been paying attention instead of concentrating on how to get someone inside the beauty shop, he would have put it all together instantly as soon as he saw the pictures. Now he was stuck with doing the polite, civilized thing in front of Octavia and Gail.

“Congratulations,” he said to Jeremy, keeping his voice absolutely level. “Nice work.”

“Be even nicer work if it pays,” Jeremy said. His tone was just as level as Nick's. “But I'm not going to quit my day job anytime soon. I mean, what are the odds of actually being able to make a living by painting? A million to one, maybe?”

“I'm sure Nick knows exactly how you feel,” Octavia commented. “He must have had the same doubts when he put his first manuscript in the mail. Isn't that right, Nick?”

She had him neatly cornered, he thought.

“Sure,” he said. “And every time I've put a manuscript in the mail since that first one. It always feels a lot like jumping off a cliff.”

Obviously it had been a mistake to tell her what lay beneath the surface of this little feud he and Jeremy had going. What was it with her, anyway? Why couldn't she let the two of them conduct their private war without outside interference?

Jeremy looked serious. “The jumping-off-the-cliff thing never goes away?”

Nick shrugged. “Not that I've noticed. My advice is to get used to it. It'll give you an edge.” He switched his gaze to Gail. “How would you like to play undercover agent?”

“Do I get to wear a trench coat?” Gail asked.

“Not unless you want to get the collar wet in the shampoo bowl.”

Octavia hopped off her stool. “Carla's Custom Cut & Curl? You want Gail to see what she can pick up in the way of gossip in the beauty shop?”

“Yeah. Betty Stiles says that's where she first heard the rumors.”

“You're really serious about this detective thing, aren't you?” Jeremy asked Nick.

“No, I just needed something interesting to put down in my journal under the subject of what I did on my summer vacation,” Nick retorted.

“Okay, okay, I get the point,” Jeremy muttered. “You're serious.” He glanced at Octavia. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You'll have to ask Nick,” she said smoothly. “He's in charge of the investigation.”

Jeremy did not look happy with that, but he dutifully turned back to Nick. “Let me know. My roots in this town run as deep as your own. I might be able to save you some time.”

“That's very kind of you, Jeremy,” Octavia said. “What do you say, Nick?”

She was not going to let up, Nick thought. She wouldn't be satisfied until he bit the bullet and invited Jeremy out for a beer. Maybe the easiest way out of this mess was to make the offer in front of her. Jeremy would turn it down and then they would both be off the hook.

He glanced at his watch and then at Jeremy. “It's nearly five. I want to talk to Gail about what I need her to do at the beauty shop tomorrow. Then I'm going to have dinner with Octavia.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw her raise her brows at that news. But she kept silent as he expected. She knew where he was going with this and she wasn't about to put up any roadblocks. “I figured I'd hit the Total Eclipse later this evening to pick up the latest gossip. You want to join me? I'll buy you a beer and we can play a little pool, keep our ears open, and see what we come up with.”

Jeremy's jaw went rigid. But to Nick's astonishment he moved slightly. It was a single, robotic inclination of the head, but it was a definite nod of acceptance.

“Why not?” Jeremy said.

Damn. Now they were both trapped, Nick thought.

Octavia looked quietly pleased. She gave him a warm smile of approval.