An Artistic Homicide Read online

  Dayveed shrugged. “I’m mostly in it for the exposure.”

  Rowen wasn’t sure how much exposure you would get in an insular town like Lainswich, where no news whatsoever seemed to make it beyond the borders. She wasn’t going to bring that up, though. “Are you from here, Dayveed?”

  “Not for long,” said Dayveed, which really didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Rowen could only assume that he meant he planned to move away given the opportunity. “I can’t stand this town.”

  “And where do you get your inspiration?” Rowen pressed on. “When you’re not inspired by our dearly departed Seraphina, that is.”

  “I-” Dayveed cringed, raising his hand to block the flash of Peony’s camera.

  “That’s a good one.” Peony looked at the picture on the screen of her camera. She raised it and took a few more in rapid secession. “Is that Seraphina? Oh, man, it has to be. It looks just like her. This is really good.”

  Dayveed’s face went very red. “What are you doing?!” he demanded. “Stop taking pictures!” He took a step toward her, shoving out his hand. “Give me that!”

  Peony took a step back, her eyes wide. She looked to Rowen for help. “I’m sorry?” She hugged the camera to her chest, trying to keep it away from Dayveed.

  “Delete those, Peony,” Rowen said quickly. “We’re only allowed to take pictures of specific pieces.”

  “Oh,” said Peony, still trying to keep her camera from Dayveed. “I’m deleting them. You can watch.” She held the camera where he could see the screen as well and started doing just that.

  Dayveed didn’t look completely satisfied, but he did watch her like a hawk. “Get that one, too. And that one.”

  “I am, I am.” Peony kept on. “Hey you’re the artist, right? While I’ve got you here, can I get you to look at something?” She pressed some buttons on her camera.

  Rowen wasn’t sure what she was doing and moved around to see. There were pictures of paintings. Most of them were of people, naked female figures in various poses. There was fluidity to the paintings, a sort of movement that Rowen really liked. Even so, she was immediately nervous about the idea that Peony might have gotten into that back room without them seeing already. She was already preparing an apology while Dayveed squinted at the pictures.

  “What about them?” asked Dayveed, his face impassive. That puzzled Rowen. She looked at Julia to see what she thought.

  Julia had moved around to look at the pictures as well. It didn’t look like she recognized them either. Where had Peony gotten these shots then? “Those are good,” said Julia. “I like them.”

  Peony grinned, but Dayveed snorted. “Maybe to an untrained eye. These are just figure drawings. There’s no message in them. They’re just… exercises in life drawing.”

  “Whatever they are, I like them,” Julia insisted. “They’re certainly a heck of a lot better than that weird mountain picture.”

  “Really?” Peony seemed to be going with Julia’s opinion rather than Dayveed’s. She bit her bottom lip, trying to wipe the grin from her face. “Do you think they’re good enough for the art show?”

  Julia raised her eyebrows. “Are they yours?”

  “No way.” Rowen looked at her cousin. The idea that the paintings were hers was the obvious answer here. Still, she was stunned. How had she not known that Peony was into art? She had grown up with her cousin. This seemed like the sort of thing you knew about a person.

  “I did.” Peony nodded. “It’s kind of a hobby, but someone told me I should give going professional with it a go, so…”

  “You’re a ways off from being a professional,” said Dayveed, though his opinion went largely ignored by Julia who merely looked at the photos a bit longer, clearly considering Peony’s offer.

  “Mr. Hawthorne would have to see the paintings in person, but if they’re anything like these pictures… I don’t see why not. We might pick a couple. There are some spaces free in the show.”

  Peony bounced on her toes, grinning again. “I’ll bring them by tonight,” she promised.

  “I didn’t know you painted,” said Rowen, still staring at the pictures. “Those are great.”

  Peony’s cheeks colored pink. “It’s just a hobby,” she said again.

  Rose emerged from Hawthorne’s office then. She was putting her recorder back into her purse. “Did you get the pictures we needed?” she called to Rowen and Peony.

  That got them moving again. Julia quickly showed Peony to the pictures that she could photograph. Dayveed, of course, chimed in, even though his opinion hadn’t been asked for. Rowen was thinking less and less of the man after he had called Peony’s art amateurish. If anything, Rowen was inclined to think that her cousin’s art was better than his. Granted, she could very well be biased in that department.

  Once enough pictures had been taken, they headed back out to the car. Rose thanked Julia for having them even though it had been the wrong day. Rowen turned to look at Peony in the backseat once they were all in the car. “Since when have you been an artist?”

  Rose’s hand dropped from the ignition. She looked over at her cousins. “What?”

  Peony smiled sheepishly. “Oh, I wouldn’t say I’m an artist.”

  “I don’t know what else you would call it.” Rowen looked at Rose. “Did you know she could paint?”

  “What?” Evidently Rose hadn’t. “You can paint?”

  “Julia asked her to bring by a few of her pieces after she saw pictures of them. It sounds like she’s going to have art in the show.”

  “You’re kidding.” Rose beamed. “Peony, that’s great.”

  “I doodle a lot when I’m alone. When Willow moved out of the room we shared, I picked up painting. I like it.”

  Rowen wondered if Willow even knew that her sister was a talented artist. “You’re going to have to show us all your stuff the next time the family gets together for dinner, especially Aunt Lydia and your mom. They would hang that stuff everywhere.”

  Chapter Two

  Rowen had been right in, maybe, one of the worst possible ways. “It’s not that I don’t like the painting,” she told Aunt Lydia, standing in front of the counter at Odds & Ends. “I’m just not sure it’s appropriate.”

  “Nonsense, it’s art.” Lydia looked back at the painting Peony had let them have. It was of a naked woman on red silk, her legs splayed in what Rowen could only imagine was some sort of yoga pose.

  “Yes, but not all art is appropriate when hung over a cash register,” Rowen insisted. She wasn’t sure why she was even arguing. In the end, her aunts and uncle had the final say over these kinds of things. Aunt Nadine most certainly wasn’t going to take it down. After all, it was her daughter’s painting.

  “I just wish we had more to hang in here,” said Nadine with a sigh. She was out on the sales floor, putting out some of the herbs they had recently bagged at home. “Maybe once the art show is done with the two they took for display.”

  “Ideally, those will sell,” Rowen reminded her.

  Nadine’s hopeful smile fell. She looked at her sister. “Do you think we have it in the budget to buy those?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Rowen said, before Lydia could even say anything. “Just ask her to paint you something. I’m sure she will. Maybe ask for some paintings of… clothed people.”

  Lydia gave a ‘tsk’ and shook her head at Rowen disapprovingly. “You just aren’t cultured enough to recognize fine art when you see it.”

  “What is it with everyone talking like I’m uncultured lately? Seriously, what does that even mean? It’s not like I-” She was cut off as the little bell above the door rang. A customer was here.

  It was two customers as it turned out. They were both rather short, with graying hair and pointed features. If Rowen had to guess, she would say they were twins. They looked incredibly similar.

  “Hey there,” called Lydia. “Just let us know if you need help with anything.”

  Both men turned and gave
Lydia tight lipped smiles. Together they walked the perimeter of the store, pausing occasionally to look at this and that. Rowen turned back to her aunt to pick up their conversation quietly. One of the men interrupted that. “This is quite the selection of books you have over here,” he said, pointing at the shelves. “These are some of my favorites.”

  “Is that so?” Lydia smiled at that. “Are the two of you into the occult?”

  The other man turned. “Of course. Why else would we be in here?”

  “We mostly get curious teens and bored housewives,” Lydia explained. “Someone genuinely interested is a rarity.”

  “If you’re interested, I have some freshly dried herbs I’m putting out over here,” Aunt Nadine called, apparently sensing a business opportunity. It must have interested one of the brothers because he approached to check out the selection.

  The other brother approached the cash register. “Honestly, I was surprised to see that such a small town even had a store like this.”

  “We don’t pull in a huge profit,” Lydia admitted. “It’s more a labor of love.”

  “Well, it’s a nice store.” His eyes traveled to the painting behind Lydia. He raised his eyebrows. “And that is a lovely piece of art right there. You have impeccable taste.”

  Lydia threw Rowen a look that said, ‘I told you so.’ “My niece painted that,” she said aloud. “She has art that’s going to be featured in a show that’s coming up. We’re all very proud.”

  The man smiled. “Ah, I’m planning on seeing that. What a small world.”

  “Small town,” Rowen corrected, not seeing too big of a coincidence there herself. When she drew looks from both the man and Lydia, she apologized. “Sorry. I’m just being nosy. Rowen. I’m her niece. Not the one that painted that, though.” She extended her hand.

  “Reginald,” said the man, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake. “That over there is my twin brother Philip.”

  “I was going to ask,” said Lydia. “You look incredibly similar.”

  Reginald chuckled. “I get that a lot. We’re close, spend a lot of our time together.”

  “It’s good when you’re able to spend time with family.” Lydia leaned forward against the counter. “Always valued family a lot myself.”

  “I imagine that, owning this sort of shop in such a small town, you would have to. I know my own occult interests drew something of a rift between my brother and I and the people we were close to.”

  “Lainswich can be a little trying,” Lydia conceded.

  “That’s putting it lightly,” scoffed Rowen. “We’re the Greensmiths. Stay in this town much longer and you’ll hear about us.”

  Aunt Lydia shot her niece an unkind look. Reginald’s eyes lit up. “So, you’re what? Infamous?”

  “Something like that,” Lydia said, rolling her eyes at her niece. “We come from a long line of practitioners of the Craft.”

  “Your practice is hereditary.” Reginald moved a little closer to the counter. “Fascinating.”

  Lydia nodded. “We actually go back so far in this town, there are historical records of some of our descendants being tried and executed. “In fact, my great grandmother was murdered without a trial. A group of outraged townsfolk stormed our home when my grandmother was still just a girl.”

  “That’s fascinating.” Reginald sounded like he meant that. The look on his face was one of rapt fascination. “I mean, it’s awful, obviously. Still fascinating, though. Is this town that superstitious?”

  Lydia waved a hand as if the answer to that didn’t matter. “People are what they are. This town wouldn’t be the same without us, and I think they know that. I don’t think it’s what they want.”

  Reginald nodded and took one more approving look around. “I’ll have to visit this place regularly if I end up moving here.”

  “I thought I hadn’t seen you around here.” The tone of voice Lydia used there suggested that she would have noticed. “You’re thinking about moving here?” She raised her eyebrows as if surprised to hear that. Not many people moved into Lainswich. The population was mostly made up of people whose parent’s parents had lived in these parts. “Do you have family in the area?”

  “Oh, no. We just retired recently. My brother over there found out that there was a home we might be interested in here. It’s owned by the man running the art show. He thought it would be fun if we could come by to check it out while the show was going on. I had to agree. Philip and I love art.”

  Rowen wondered if the town hadn’t drawn him here. If he was interested in the occult, this place was a good fit for him. “Is it just you and your brother?”

  Reginald nodded. “I know it might seem a bit odd to be living with a sibling at our age, but-”

  “Not at all,” Lydia interrupted. “My sister and brother both live with me. We used to have a full house before my daughter and nieces moved away.” She gave a dreamy sigh. “It’s nice having family around. You don’t know how much you miss them until they’re gone.”

  “She’s making it sound like we died,” said Rowen. “We still all live in town and visit regularly.”

  “Reginald and I never had children. I can’t say if I regret it or not. We’ve always had plenty of time for our esoteric pursuits but I suppose it would be nice to have someone to carry on the family line.” He shrugged. “Ah, well, it’s too late for what ifs now.”

  Reginald chatted with Lydia for a while longer while Philip spoke with Nadine. After what felt like hours, they finally broke apart, buying some herbs and promising the sisters that they would be back to visit the store again. “They seemed nice,” Lydia said once they had gone.

  Nadine nodded in agreement. “Philip asked if I wanted to come with him to the art show opening. I mean, obviously, we’re going anyway but it was a nice thought to ask.”

  “They seem kind of weird to me,” said Rowen, watching them walk to their car from the window. “But I guess all of us are a little weird.” That was certainly putting it mildly she thought as she looked back to her aunts and that painting still above the cash register.

  “Rowen, dear,” said Lydia. “Before you leave, would you mind helping me hex the fellow who runs the Quickstop on the corner? He keyed my car last week, but I can’t prove it to the cops.”

  Rowen took a deep breath. Yep, they were definitely more than a little odd. “Yeah, sure. I’ll get the candles.”

  Chapter Three

  The night of the art show was a nice one. The sky was clear and the stars were out. The air was cool. Rowen was feeling pretty in her kitten heels and little black dress. Her husband Eric was, likewise, looking very dashing in his designer suit. His blond hair was combed back and his face was freshly shaved. Everything was going just fine. Why then did Rowen feel so nervous?

  “You’re just worried for Peony’s sake,” Eric told her as he drove. “You’re picking up on her nervousness.”

  “I guess.” Rowen couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was she was feeling, but she felt it in her chest. There was some sort of trepidation there. She had reservations about anyone from her family being near this art show. “Maybe we shouldn’t go.”

  Eric glanced over at his wife. “You know we can’t do that. Peony expects us there. The whole family expects us there. You would hate yourself if you missed this.”

  He was right, of course. It wasn’t that Rowen didn’t want to see Peony’s art. It was more that she didn’t want her family to have anything to do with that place all of a sudden. “Fine. Just… be on guard. I feel like something is going to happen.”

  “Uh oh,” Eric breathed, looking a touch queasy. Rowen had a near spotless track record when it came to predicting when something bad was about to happen. “Should I go ahead and clear my schedule for the next couple of weeks?”

  “Don’t make fun of me,” Rowen scolded even though, yeah, he might actually need to do just that.

  ***

  The parking lot in front of the once video store, now a
rt gallery was packed. That was a good sign for Mr. Hawthorne and the Lainswich Historical Society, Rowen supposed. She already recognized a few of the cars that were parked. That meant that she had family already inside.

  Eric parked and together they headed inside. They had paid for their tickets ahead of time. Eric handed these to a well-dressed gentleman manning the door. Immediately, Rowen was glad she had dressed up for the occasion. Most everyone was mingling in fine looking clothes. It was mostly older people, in long dresses and bespoke suits. There were a few casually dressed people here and there who looked like they felt terribly out of place. Peony was not one of them. She was wearing a cute, striped romper that absolutely did not go with the occasion. Maybe she could get by with it because she was one of the artists there. She was standing near one of her pieces looking very proud.

  Rowen took a flute of champagne from a passing server and headed for her cousin. Willow was standing with her, as was Tina. “Hey, haven’t seen you in a while,” she said, addressing Tina first. Tina had become a friend of Willow and Peony after the latter had taken a bullet for her. It wasn’t quite so dramatic as it sounded when Tina retold it, but as far as reasons to go from enemies to friends went, it was a good one.

  “I couldn’t miss this,” said Tina, smiling at Rowen. “Good to see you.”

  “You too.” Rowen turned her gaze to Peony. “And you. Everyone is so proud of you.” She looked up at the painting. It was a woman in the moonlight, standing next to a spring in a clearing. “Oh, wow. That’s gorgeous.”

  Peony beamed. “There’s a silent bidding going on in the corner. Aunt Lydia says it already has five bids.”

  “Aunt Lydia says?” Rowen looked toward the back of the room, where a large ledger sat on a table. Sure enough, that’s where Lydia was lurking. Every time someone approached the ledger and wrote something down, she would not so subtly sneak on over and peek at it. “She’s going to get us all kicked out.”