Chapter 9 #2
Shortly, Horace heard the door slam. He sipped his bourbon and sat quietly for a moment.
Those fools would be the death of him…in more ways than one.
He drank the rest of the bourbon in two gulps, set the glass on the coffee table in front of him, then stood and prepared to leave the house.
He had to give the appearance of being a caring neighbor and friend to Alexis so the suspicion wouldn’t be on him.
Even though everyone in town knew about the bad blood between them, he had to put on a show.
The following day, Peter and Alexis sat at her kitchen table.
“I’ll give you whatever you need.” He reached across the table and took her hand, from where it lay on the table, with both of his. “I want to start a scholarship fund for artists, in Heather’s name.”
Alexis slowly extricated her hand from his. “She would have liked that. But I can’t agree to you footing the bill for my gallery.”
“It would be nothing for me to do it.”
She looked at him with sad eyes. “Be that as it may, I’ll figure out some other way.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Well, if you won’t let me pay, then let’s have a fund-raiser to build the new gallery and start the scholarship fund at the same time.”
She remained quiet for a minute before nodding.
“I agree because of the Heather Brooks scholarship. It’s a great way to remember Heather.
” Alexis stared into her coffee cup. “You would have liked her. She loved art, and she was a talented artist, but she never let me hang any of her pieces. She thought none of them were good enough. She was wrong, but I couldn’t convince her.
I even told her she could hang one in the back room of the gallery, where we display the less-popular pieces, but she wouldn’t even consider it. ”
“Do you display any of your work there?”
She furrowed her brows. “No. I told you before that I don’t.”
Peter smiled. “Then you know exactly how she felt, because your work is wonderful.”
“My paintings are average. That’s all. Just average.”
“They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I love your work.”
“Thanks. That’s very kind, but compared to you, I’m a kindergartener making handprints for my mother.”
Peter let loose a deep laugh.
“What? It’s true.”
He shook his head. “It’s not true and you know it.
You’re talented, and you’ll get better when you incorporate the things we’ve been working on.
But those are just techniques. The real art is up here.
” He leaned forward and tapped her forehead.
“That is where the real work is. If you don’t have it up here,” this time he tapped his own forehead, “you’ll never be an artist.”
She dipped her chin while her lips turned up. “Thank you. You’re really good for my ego.”
“I only speak the truth. What do you want to do now?”
“I want to find McNubbin. I’ve just got a feeling that he’s involved in this somehow. If what I suspected after the incident with the brick is true, then I can’t believe he’s not behind the fire and Heather’s death.”
A knock sounded.
Alexis frowned. “I’m not expecting anyone.” She went to the door and opened it. “Miranda, come in. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Alexis stood back so the deputy could enter.
“I’m not here for pleasure. I need to know if either of you have seen Mr. Avery or Mr. Shaw, Horace Beecher’s associates?
The deputy was writing furiously in her notebook. “Why didn’t you mention it before now?”
“It actually slipped my mind with everything else that was happening at the time.”
“This is very good information. I’ve been trying to locate Mr. Avery and Mr. Shaw, but have not have any luck.”
Peter furrowed his eyebrows. “Who are Mr. Avery and Mr. Shaw?”
“Mr. Beecher’s associates. I thought you said they took you to Beecher?”
“I didn’t know their names. We were never introduced. I referred to them as Mr. Burley and Mr. Wiry, whose name was actually Walter, which is what Beecher called him.”
Miranda chuckled. “I can see why you might call them those names.”
Alexis slapped a hand on the table. “What is happening here? Why are you questioning us? Heather not only worked for me, she was my friend. You know this, so what is going on?”
“I have to eliminate you as suspects and I’m trying to be thorough at my job so there is no question of favoritism in anyone’s mind. Unfortunately, Peter is right. He is Horace Beecher’s alibi, but he’s not for Horace’s men. I just have to find them.”
“That’s probably going to be harder than not. If I were Beecher, I’d have gotten them out of the country as soon as possible.”
“I’m already checking the flights out of Aspen, between the time of the murder and subsequent fire and now. I haven’t contacted all the private planes that might have left after the fire, especially if they didn’t file a flight plan.”
“Does that happen a lot? Not filing a flight plan, I mean?” asked Peter.
Miranda sighed and her shoulders slumped. “More often than you would think.” She sounded tired.
“Can I get you some coffee?” Alexis offered.
The deputy shook her head. “I still have to talk to the sheriff about my findings and see what he wants me to do now. But thanks.” She headed toward the door but stopped before opening it. “I don’t have to tell you, but don’t leave town.”
Peter nodded. “I guarantee we won’t be going anywhere until this is solved.”
Miranda took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then she nodded. “Good. I’m glad to hear I won’t have to worry about you two. Thanks for your cooperation.” Disappearing through the door, she closed it behind her.
He looked over at Alexis. “Will you be all right if I leave for a bit?”
She turned her gaze to his. “I’ll be fine. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“Then go. I’m fine.” She waved him toward the door.
“Fine.” Peter left the house, wondering what in the heck had just happened. Was Alexis angry? Why?