Northwest Cozy Mysteries #1 Read online

  “That’s good news,” DeeDee said. “Not about the woman dying, I mean, but about the Chihuly pieces.”

  Judging by Bernard’s expression, he seemed pretty happy on both counts. Bernard looked DeeDee up and down with the practiced eye of a man who is always on the prowl for an attractive woman and pulled at one side of his twirly mustache.

  “Yes, it is good news. Why don’t you let me take you to lunch, and we can talk about the pieces you’re interested in? I might be able to reserve them for you.”

  DeeDee glanced at her watch. “Oh, I see I’m running late. It’s very kind of you, but I’m meeting a friend.”

  “I understand,” Bernard said, handing DeeDee a business card. “I am the owner here. Please ask for me the next time you come. Miss um…?”

  “It’s Mrs. Wilson,” DeeDee smiled, emphasizing the word Mrs.

  Bernard reached for DeeDee’s hand, pulling her arm horizontal before kissing the back of her hand. “Enchanté, Ms. Wilson,” Bernard said, emphasizing the Ms.

  DeeDee smiled to herself as she sashayed off, knowing that Bernard’s eyes were following her out. Dick Dastardly was just flirting with me. If things don’t work out with Jake, I know who to call. His manners may have been immaculate, but what a stupid looking mustache.

  ***

  “Excuse me,” DeeDee said to the security guard standing at the exit of the gallery. “I’m looking for an art supplies store, and I heard there was one nearby. Do you know of it?”

  “Yes, it’s the best in the city. Several artists have their studios in the lofts above it.”

  “That’s the place I’m looking for,” DeeDee said. The security guard gave her directions, and she was relieved when he said it was within walking distance.

  The art supplies store was in a converted industrial building called The Garrett. DeeDee bought a sketch pad, a box of pastel crayons, and some arty postcards that would look pretty framed in her house. The store had one entrance on the street and inside there was a doorway which led to an elevator for the floors above which had lofts.

  Carrying her art supplies bag, she fit right in, and the guard in the hallway didn’t bat an eye as she walked up to the row of mailboxes on the wall. Looking at the names, she found the one she was looking for, Matt Benson, Apt 3A.

  When she got out of the elevator on the third floor she saw how perfect the lofts were for artists. The entire place was flooded with light due to the exterior walls of the building being just glass and steel. She imagined the inside of the lofts had walls of exposed brick, similar to the walls in the art supplies store. The smell of paint was in the air.

  Apt 3A had a sign on the door that read “Back at 1:30.” Looking at her watch, she saw that it was 12:45, so she decided to have lunch at the Italian Restaurant, Carlito’s, which she’d walked by on the way to The Garrett. It had been getting great reviews, and she’d been wanting to try it.

  Five minutes later, DeeDee settled into a corner table in Carlito’s and looked around the room. It was a small, dim space, and DeeDee imagined that by candlelight in the evening it would be a cozy place to have dinner with Jake. The walls were tiled, the tables covered in traditional red and white checkered tablecloths, and the flooring was oak that had been stripped to its natural golden color.

  The aroma of garlic and herbs teased her taste buds, and a basket of freshly baked bread quickly appeared on the table to tempt her while she looked over the menu. It was hard to make a decision, but the cavatelli with crab, peas and mascarpone was definitely calling to her. One of the reviews she’d read had said it was the restaurant’s specialty. When it arrived and after she’d had a couple of bites, she agreed with the reviewer. It was fantastic.

  DeeDee pulled her iPad out of her purse, deciding to do a little research on Matt Benson before she met him. She felt like a real detective and giggled at the thought. She thought Jake’s work as a private investigator must be exciting, but she wasn’t ready to sign up with the CIA just yet. She made a mental note to ask him more about what he did.

  From what she could find online, it appeared that Matt Benson had at one time been an acclaimed painter with his works on display in several galleries. There were a couple of articles from several years earlier about him being an up-and-coming artist, but his limited success since then seemed disproportionate to his supposed talent. He hadn’t produced any work for some time, and several of his shows had been canceled. His paintings were available for the public to view in his loft at The Garrett, although one scathing article said his work was “pretentious, just like the artist.” The reviewer had recommended that anyone thinking of buying his work should save their money.

  When an apprehensive DeeDee rang the bell of Matt’s apartment after lunch, she was relieved to find a disheveled, but otherwise normal looking guy who was probably in his thirties.

  “Hi,” DeeDee said, introducing herself. “I saw some of your paintings in an online gallery recently and thought one of your pieces might look good in my home on Bainbridge Island. I’d like to look at some of your work, if that would be all right?”

  “Of course,” Matt said, inviting her in. As he showed her the paintings scattered around the studio, DeeDee observed that apart from being unshaven and tired looking, the man was almost gaunt. It wasn’t the jeans hanging off of his lean fame that bothered her as much as the look in his eyes. He seemed sad, but as the conversation went on, DeeDee became more and more unnerved. Matt was polite and well-spoken, but the look in his eyes was bitter, and he seemed very angry.

  Her attention was drawn to a seascape of sailboats in a thunderstorm. “This is stunning, Matt, I really like it,” DeeDee said, and she was being truthful. It may not have been a painting that would fit into Lisa’s gallery, but DeeDee liked Matt’s work a lot. “This would look amazing in my great room which overlooks the Sound. I’m surprised you’re not in more galleries.”

  “So am I,” Matt said. “My work appeals mainly to a local niche, but I’m expecting some new shows to come up soon.”

  “Really?”

  Matt seemed to be staring off into space when he said, “I heard on the news that a local gallery owner has died. I was turned down by that gallery, but I’m sure the new owners will be interested in my work since it’s so Seattle thematic.”

  “I agree,” DeeDee said, “but why did the previous owner not want to show any of your work?”

  Matt’s eyes narrowed, and the veins in his temples pulsed. His fists were balled, and DeeDee took a step backward. Matt gulped before he spoke. “Let’s just say that it didn’t fit in with her idea of genius. She was more interested in going to parties than showcasing real talent. Her death won’t mean any loss to the art world here in Seattle.”

  Matt raked his fingers through his hair and like a maniac, started stuffing paint brushes into a glass jar, then he lifted the jar and threw it at the wall. The vessel smashed into tiny pieces, and shards of glass sprayed all over the floor. He lifted a paint brush off of the floor and started to dab at the canvas he’d been working on as if nothing had happened.

  DeeDee was shocked by his sudden violent outburst and backed away from him as she uttered, “I, I’ll think it over,” and then quickly made her way towards the door, but Matt just kept on painting and never acknowledged her leaving.

  On the ferry ride home, DeeDee called Roz to tell her about Matt Benson. She told her about the coroner’s initial finding which confirmed that Lisa had been murdered, then she went on to tell her about Matt. “Honest Roz, he went from being a nice but slightly odd artist to a terrifying creature like the Hulk. It happened in the blink of an eye.”

  “From what you’re describing, it sounds like he could be the murderer. What do you think?” Roz asked.

  “I guess he could be,” DeeDee said, “but how am I going to find out for sure?”

  CHAPTER 15

  DeeDee had invited Jake to come to her home for dinner that evening. Naturally, being the good cook that she was, she would prep
are the meal. “You look great,” Jake said as he arrived and kissed DeeDee on the cheek. “I know it’s kind of schmaltzy, but I thought of you when I saw these.” He pulled a hand-tied bunch of flowers from behind his back.

  “You must be psychic, because peonies are my favorite flowers. Thank you, Jake.” DeeDee beamed at Jake’s compliment while she arranged the flowers in a vase. She’d taken special care deciding what to wear when he came for dinner, choosing a pale pink knit sweater, white cropped pants, and matching sandals.

  Her hair was a couple of inches shorter after a visit to the salon the previous week, and the scattering of golden highlights her hairdresser had added complimented her tanned cheeks that came courtesy of her morning walks on the beach with Balto. She’d noticed her pants were looser than usual as well, another benefit of the daily exercise.

  “Dinner won’t be long,” DeeDee said. “Let’s go sit on the deck.” She handed a bottle of wine to Jake to open, and he easily pulled the cork out. DeeDee carried the wine glasses, as they walked out to the seating area on the deck, Balto padding along behind them. He laid down at DeeDee’s feet while she sat down in one of the two wicker chairs on the deck. Jake sat in the chair next to DeeDee’s, his elbow on the arm of the chair, and his arm just touching hers. A soft tingle of electricity passed through her at the sensation. In the distance below them, the rays from the setting sun provided a soft glow of pink light.

  “How did your trip to Seattle go? Did you find anything out?” Jake asked, swirling the wine around in his glass. DeeDee watched his long fingers grip the glass, remembering how Jake’s hand in hers on the night of Lisa’s murder had made her feel safe. He’d made it clear that night he was there for her, with no strings attached, and he was quickly becoming her anchor.

  “It was eventful,” DeeDee said, “and also a little scary.” She described her visit to the Pioneer Art Gallery when she’d narrowly avoided a run-in with the police, and then her visits to Bernard Metz and Matt Benson.

  “I didn’t care for either of them,” she said. “They both were very sure of themselves. Bernard came across as a fake sleazeball, and Matt acted like he’d forgotten to take his medication.”

  “Well, it sounds like they both had possible motives for wanting to kill Lisa,” Jake said when she’d finished. “However, I know from a lot of cases I’ve worked on that having a motive and proving someone committed murder are two very different things.” He reached out and tucked a strand of DeeDee’s hair behind her ear. “I wish you’d called me after the incident with that artist Matt Benson. Even if he’s not a murderer, that type of outburst is not normal. Actually, your safety is becoming a priority to me. You know that, don’t you?” Jake moved closer to DeeDee and tilted her chin up, so she was looking directly into his deep blue eyes.

  DeeDee nodded and in that moment, like a snapshot framed against the sunset on the water, it was just her and Jake and nothing else mattered. However, Balto interrupted the moment, leaping up, and sniffing the screen door to the house.

  “I think that’s Balto’s way of saying it’s time for dinner,” DeeDee said with a smile. “Shall we?”

  Jake held the door open and guided DeeDee indoors with his hand on the small of her back, followed by a lively Balto who headed straight for his dog dish. DeeDee finished fixing dinner for Jake and her, while he filled Balto’s food dish and gave him some water.

  “I thought of something today,” Jake said, his eyes widening, as he looked at the meal DeeDee was serving. It was chicken baked with herbs and mushrooms over rice, parmesan sweet and sour brussel sprouts, and freshly baked sourdough bread she’d bought at a bakery in Pioneer Square. “I know Shane Conklin and I think it would be a good idea for you to talk to him.”

  “How do you know Shane?” DeeDee asked, reaching for the bottle of wine to top off their glasses while they ate.

  Jake held his hand over his glass. “Thanks, I’m good. Shane used me a couple of years ago on his last divorce.”

  “You said his last divorce. How many has he had?”

  “Just two that I know of.” Jake said, smiling at her. “He didn’t make the best choices when it came to his wives. The first one had a drinking problem, and he found out his second one was having an affair. I’m sure if you use my name he’ll see you. Like I said, I think he’s a great guy, and he might be able to tell you if Lisa was having problems with anyone.”

  Jake pulled his phone from his pocket, and swiped the screen. “I have his office number on here.” He jotted the number down on a piece of paper and pushed it across the table to DeeDee. As he did so, she looked down at his plate and realized he’d managed to completely clean it in what seemed like less than a minute.

  DeeDee lifted the serving spoon, and looked at him. Jake grinned. “Yes, thank you, I will take a second helping. This is deeeeeelish. You really are a talented cook,” he said as he resumed eating, clearly enjoying it.

  DeeDee pushed the food on her plate around with her fork. She’d hardly eaten anything at all because she was so worried about her new business becoming a failure.

  Jake reached across the table and put his hand on top of hers. “DeeDee, none of this is your fault. I know it seems bad right now, but everything will get cleared up. Trust me. I know I’m right, and once it does, I’m sure your business will be a huge success. Failure is not on the options list for a catering company that has an owner who can cook like this, believe me.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Am I right, DeeDee, or am I right?”

  “You know, Jake,” DeeDee said, with tears in her eyes, “If Deelish is dead in the water because of the fallout from Lisa’s murder, and no one hires me ever again, it really doesn’t matter whether or not I’m a good cook. Poor Lisa’s life is over.” DeeDee shook her head and put her fork down. “My life will go on, but I still can’t believe she was there one minute and gone the next. It sure puts everything in perspective. It reminds me of the fact we have to make the most of every day, because we never know what might happen.”

  “I agree,” Jake smirked. “So, what did you have in mind?”

  DeeDee perked up. “Can I tempt you…with some ice cream?”

  “It wasn’t quite what I had in mind, but that’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

  “It’s from DaVinci’s,” DeeDee said, putting two scoops of vanilla bean ice cream in each of their bowls. “I’m still trying to find out Leo’s secret ice cream making technique, but he says he’s taking it to the grave with him.”

  “Well, I hope nothing happens to Leo,” Jake said. “because then you really will be the main suspect. Speaking of suspects, do you still have any connections at the Seattle Art Museum from when you were a docent there?”

  “Yes, I know a few people. Actually, a good friend of mine is in the Conservation Department. Her name is Cassie Roberts, and she lived next door to me on Mercer Island. Why, do you think someone from the museum could be involved?”

  Jake rubbed his chin. “It’s a longshot, but it never hurts to find out if any rumors were being circulated about Lisa. You said yourself the art world is a pretty small circle. Your friend Cassie might know about any problems Lisa might have had with people in the art world. I understand that Lisa had a lot of ties to the Seattle Museum of Art, and she used to work at the museum before she opened her own gallery. Someone there could have had it in for her.”

  “That’s a good idea,” DeeDee said, clearing the dishes. “I’ll call Cassie and Shane in the morning. I think I’ve got my work cut out for me tomorrow.”

  “Here, let me help with the dishes,” Jake said jumping up. Balto went over to the door and began to whine and scratch at the screen.

  “Tell you what, Jake, why don’t you take Balto out? I’ll take care of these dishes. It won’t take me long to clean up.”

  DeeDee heard Jake talking to Balto in the yard, and smiled as she wiped down the countertop. He was saying something about Balto being a good dog and looking out for DeeDee.

  “Thank you, Jake,�
� DeeDee said when he and Balto returned to the house.

  Jake put his arms around DeeDee and gently kissed her. “Goodnight, DeeDee.”

  DeeDee felt Jake’s touch on her lips long after he’d gone. She’d never expected to be interested in another man, certainly not this soon after her divorce, but she was already beginning to care more for Jake than she wanted to admit.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Want a bacon-wrapped date, Balto?” DeeDee asked, as she stooped down and offered him one of the mini-appetizers she’d been making. Balto had been standing next to her ever since the smell of bacon had lured him from his dog bed when DeeDee had started cooking an hour earlier. A moment later the date dribbled out of his mouth and onto the floor, but he stayed where he was with his tongue hanging out, hoping for more bacon.

  “You silly dog,” DeeDee said, patting him on the side of his neck. “Dates are very good for you.”

  She washed her hands, made a pot of coffee, and went out on the deck. She spotted the newspaper lying on the ground at the bottom of the steps, and as she was bending down to pick it up, Balto joined her and started to bark, as if to remind her that the deck area was his territory.

  “Have you been chasing the newspaper delivery boy again, Balto?”

  He growled and trotted off. Just then her phone buzzed on the table where she’d put it when she came outside. DeeDee picked it up and answered it.

  “Bonjour, Inspector Clouseau,” Roz said in a phony thick French accent before bursting into laughter.

  “I’m glad you think this is funny,” DeeDee said, taking a sip of her coffee. “I don’t think my problems at the moment are a laughing matter.”

  “Any high-speed police chases lined up for today?” Roz asked. After several more moments of teasing DeeDee, she heard a crash coming from Roz’s end of the line.