Chapter 12
Penelope
The stress that had been building for weeks—if not months or years—began to unravel as I got settled at Theo’s place. We went grocery shopping, I meal prepped lunches, and he cleared out the rest of his things from the spare bedroom so I could get comfortable.
On Tuesday, we made a quick trip to Sean’s house so I could get my car and some of my things—mostly clothes, toiletries, and my art supplies. Fortunately, I had my keys, so I was able to get in. And even more fortunately, Sean wasn’t there.
I’d have to face him sooner or later. But I needed some space first. Theo stood guard outside while I gathered what I needed.
There was more that was mine, including some of the furniture, but I’d deal with it later.
We grabbed takeout on the way home, and after dinner, I set about organizing my things.
The bedroom wasn’t large, but it seemed enormous. Not because of its proportions or the small furniture—because it felt like freedom. There I was, standing in a space that was my own. I’d done it. Sure, it was because of Theo. But that didn’t diminish my relief.
Maybe everything really was going to be okay.
“Hey, Pensicle?” Theo poked his head through the door.
“Hi. You can come in. I’m just putting away my clothes.”
He stepped into the room. “I was thinking… Do you want my room? I can move my stuff in here. I don’t need a lot of space, and my room’s bigger.”
“No,” I said, emphatic. “I’m not kicking you out of your bedroom. This one is perfect.”
“Okay, but I do want you take over the third bedroom, too.”
“There’s a third? How did I not know that?”
“Yeah, it’s empty. I figure it can be your art studio or whatever you call it.”
“There’s room for me to have a studio?”
He grinned. “Yeah. Let me show you.”
I followed him down the short hallway to a closed door that I’d assumed was a closet. He opened it and flipped on the light.
It was a small bedroom with plain white walls and a window overlooking the backyard. There was beige carpet on the floor and an empty closet.
“What do you think?” he asked. “Will this work?”
“It’s amazing. I’ll put down drop cloths so I don’t get paint on the carpet.”
“You can, but don’t worry about it. Carpet can always be replaced.”
I took slow steps around the room, thinking about where to place my easel. “This is so much better than the storage room off the garage.”
“That’s all you had? A storage room?”
“Yeah. Once in a while, he’d say he was going to build an addition so I could have a proper studio, but it never happened.” My shoulders slumped. “Why did I wait so long to leave him? Seriously, Theo, I feel like I’ve been the world’s biggest doormat.”
He moved closer and nudged me with his elbow. “You’re not a doormat. You were just stuck in a rut.”
“That’s true. It’s like I’m waking up after living in a fog. It’s a weird feeling.”
“Well, you can paint your feelings in here.”
That made me smile. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“What are you going to paint first?”
I tapped my lips with my finger. “I keep thinking about a mountain creek. Not like the Morris painting he gave me—I’d never copy another artist’s work—but I could honor him by creating my own.
Use his as inspiration. I don’t know if it really matters, but I’d like to pay tribute to who he was and what he taught me. ”
“That’s awesome. I can’t wait to see it.”
“Thanks. Speaking of.” I tilted my head and gazed at one of the bare walls. “Do you mind if I hang things? I can fix the holes later. I know how.”
“Knock yourself out. You can put things anywhere you want.”
I pointed to a spot on the wall near the window. “I think the Morris painting would look lovely right there.”
“Do you need any help?”
“I don’t think so. It’s not heavy.”
“Let me know if you need me. I’ve still got grades to enter, so I’ll be in the other room.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
He gave me a dimpled grin and left.
My stomach tingled with giddiness as I once again took in the room. A space to paint was a small thing, but it meant so much to me. I could already tell I was going to love working in there.
It only took a few minutes to move my art supplies into the room. A side table would be helpful. Maybe even a small cabinet. I set up my easel and glanced around in satisfaction. It was going to be great.
The Morris painting was in the dining room where Theo had left it. He smiled at me from behind his laptop and asked again if I needed help. I assured him I’d let him know if I did.
I took the painting into my new studio and held it up against the wall.
Perfect. I set it on the floor and sat cross-legged while I figured out what hardware it needed for hanging.
I had a little box of supplies—sawtooth hangers and probably a few D rings.
I ran my hands along the back of the frame, wondering which would be best, when I noticed a rough spot that didn’t feel like wood.
Picking up the painting, I tilted it so I could see the spot. It was at the top, off to one side. It looked like a bit of paper sticking out between the backing and the frame itself.
It was probably just there to keep the canvas secure. Maybe the frame hadn’t fit snugly enough, so Edwin had tucked a bit of paper in the gap.
I was going to leave it—get up and find my box of picture-hanging hardware—but a whisper of curiosity crept through me. A shiver ran down my back, and suddenly I had to know what that little scrap of paper was doing there.
The backing board was held in place with small, flat pegs that turned so they tucked beneath the frame. I opened them to free the backing board and carefully lifted it.
What I’d thought was a small scrap—maybe even a ripped corner wadded up and stuffed into a gap—was actually a folded piece of paper. It was thicker than what you’d find in a notebook, but not as rigid as card stock. More like a page torn out of a nice journal.
I unfolded it and my eyebrows drew together as I read a note written in slanted cursive.
Someday, someone will search and find the answers. The hauntings that led to my demise. It was no accident.
I stared at the note for a long moment. What on earth? Had Edwin written it? I didn’t know what it meant or why it would have been tucked in the picture frame of one of his paintings.
So strange.
Turning the painting over, I held the note next to his signature. I was no handwriting expert, but it looked the same to me.
Hesitating, I chewed on my lower lip. I didn’t want to bother Theo while he was busy. But my curiosity had gone from a whisper to an excited squeal. A secret note tucked in a painting? He had to see this.
Taking the note with me, I got up and found him still in the dining room.
“I hate to bug you, but—”
“What do you need?”
He started to get up, but I waved him back down. “You don’t have to get up. I found something.”
“Where? In the room?”
I pulled out the chair next to him and took a seat while he moved his laptop. “No, in the Morris painting. In the frame, to be specific. A note.”
Spreading the note flat on the table, I slid it to him.
Confusion crossed his face as he read. “That’s weird. Did he write it?”
“I think so. It looks like the same handwriting as his signature.”
“The hauntings that led to my demise,” he read. “Do you think he meant literal hauntings? Like he thought his house or his gallery was haunted?”
“Maybe. Search and find the answers could mean he hoped someone would discover what was haunting him.”
We both paused, gazing at the note. Another similarly disturbing idea entered my mind. What if Edwin Morris didn’t think he was being haunted? What if he thought he was being hunted?
“This is weird as hell,” Theo said, interrupting my half-formed thought. “But it’s even weirder considering the context.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mostly what we saw go down on Saturday. There was clearly more to this guy’s life than painting peaceful landscapes. Plus, you know, he’s dead. This note almost sounds prophetic.”
“Like he knew he was going to die?”
“Don’t you think? It’s not explicit, but it makes me wonder if he was worried something bad would happen to him.”
I met Theo’s eyes. “That’s exactly what I was just thinking. But not only that something bad was going to happen, like he had health problems and knew he didn’t have much time.”
“It was no accident,” Theo quoted.
“Exactly,” I whisper-yelled, although I had no idea why. There was no one around. “What if he wrote this thinking someone was out to get him?”
“And he was right. They were out to get him.”
“And they got him.”
Theo nodded gravely.
I stared at the note. Edwin Morris’s death hadn’t raised any suspicions. He was a man in his sixties with a certain waist circumference. Statistically speaking, he’d been at risk of an early death. Nothing to investigate.
But what if the note meant he knew something might happen to him, and he’d been hoping someone would find it and search for the answers?
The most ridiculous idea popped into my head. And like the moment of curiosity when I’d noticed the scrap of paper sticking out from the frame, I couldn’t resist it.
I had to figure out if Edwin Morris had been murdered. And if so, who killed him.
But I couldn’t do it alone.
I looked up, my mind racing. How could I convince Theo? He was going to laugh and say I was being silly. That we were just a couple of high school teachers. What business did we have trying to solve a murder?
With no idea of what I was going to say, I opened my mouth.
Only, Theo beat me to it.
“We need to find out what happened,” he said, his voice definitive.
“Are you serious?”
He nodded again. “Pen, this could mean he knew he was going to be murdered. And then he was murdered. The cops have no idea. Everyone’s just moving on with their lives like he was another victim of cardiovascular disease or something.”
“Yes, exactly. But what if he wasn’t?”
“What if someone killed him? We need to know.”
My eyes widened. “You’ll help me find out? I thought I was going to have to convince you.”
He hesitated. “I thought I was going to have to convince you.”
Adjusting my glasses, I laughed. “I guess we have more in common than meets the eye.”
His dimples puckered with his grin as he held out his fist. “Okay, Penlock Holmes. Let’s solve a maybe murder.”
I bumped his fist with mine. “Later, though. You probably still have grades to enter.”
“That I do.” He slid the laptop back in front of him. “Let’s keep thinking about it, and we’ll figure out how to start looking.”
“Deal.” I got up and took the note. “I’ll keep this in the empty bedroom. I mean, my art studio.”
He grinned at me. “Sounds good.”
I went back to my studio with a little flutter of excitement in my stomach. And of course it was just the anticipation of possibly solving a murder. It had nothing to do with Theo and his playful smile.