Chapter 23

Add finishing touches like fresh flowers in vases, a bowl of fresh fruit on the kitchen countertop, and plush towels in powder rooms and bathrooms.

With a few hours in between work projects, I’d made arrangements to take Aunt Kit to the Orangery for afternoon tea. With so much of my attention being focused on my staging business and on helping Monica, I felt I’d been neglecting her. I hoped to make it up by taking her to her favorite teashop, a place she enjoyed when visiting Louiston. It was one of my favorite places as well.

The Orangery provided the perfect setting for a cozy get together, so it would be a treat for both of us. Its gentle atmosphere of a traditional English teashop, the soothing tea they served, and the delicious delicacies they were known for did a lot to calm me when I needed a break.

Nita, who was going along, thought it would be a nice gesture to invite Anne Williamson to join us so she could show her appreciation for all Anne had done for the arts festival. Nita also thought Aunt Kit would enjoy having Anne along since the older women had bonded somewhat over their love of art.

Nita and I picked up Aunt Kit at the house. Anne Williamson planned to meet us there.

The woman who met us at the door, dressed in a severe black gabardine dress with a broach at her neck, looked as though she had stepped off the set of Downton Abbey. She had such poise and an assured demeanor she could have been the housekeeper or the lady of the manor. When I told her I had called about a reservation and would be joining someone who might already be there, she escorted us to a cozy nook. A round table was beautifully set with a thick white covering, cloth napkins, and an arrangement of pink tea roses. Delicate cups and saucers covered in floral patterns completed each place setting.

Anne was already seated, and after we got settled and exchanged greetings, she clapped her hands to get our attention. “I have some wonderful news.”

Three sets of eyes peered at her intently.

“Nita, your photos from the show sold.” Anne’s broad smile showed how pleased she was to deliver the news.

Nita’s squeal of surprise and delight could be heard throughout the teashop and several heads turned our way. “Oh my gosh. When?”

“I received a call this morning. The photos have to remain up until the end of the show, but after that, they will go home with the new owner. Once the show comes down, I’ll process the sale and send you the payment.” Anne looked just as thrilled as Nita.

“I can’t wait to tell Guido somebody liked my photos enough to pay money for them. That is wonderful news, Anne. Thank you.”

After the waitress took our orders and then brought us the English breakfast tea we all had agreed on, the conversation quickly turned to the murders that had occurred in Louiston.

“With all that’s been happening here, I worry about Laura and Nita.” Aunt Kit helped herself to little diamond-shaped sandwiches from a three-tiered tray the waitress placed in the center of the table. “Such a shame about that poor young man who came here from New Zealand to take care of his aunt’s estate.”

Nita studied the selection of sandwiches. “The police found his cell phone. According to his phone records, he’d made calls to Warren Hendricks, his aunt’s attorney, an old girlfriend, and Anne.” She gulped realizing what she had said and probably shouldn’t have.

Anne accepted the plate Nita passed to her. “Don’t worry, dear, I know about it. A lovely detective questioned me about the call. He asked me how I knew Ian Becker and what had been the purpose of the telephone call.”

Detective Spangler, a lovely detective? He was attractive in a rugged sort of way with his dark, thick eyelashes, piercing blue eyes, and dark hair graying slightly at the temples. With the antagonism we seemed to feel toward each other, I don’t think I could ever think of him as being a lovely detective. If when using the word “lovely,” she meant kind, I couldn’t buy that either. Well, maybe somewhat.

Anne paused, and I began to wonder whether she was going to share the reason for the call. After she took another bite of scone and sipped some tea, she began again.

“I explained to Detective Spangler that Ian called to ask me if he could see me while he was in town. We had a lovely chat, and he told me his aunt had written his family over the years and they told him about our friendship. He said he wanted to meet me and express his appreciation for the assistance I’d given her. I hadn’t done much, but I told him I would be delighted to meet him. He sounded like such a nice young man.”

“Did he visit you?” Nita asked.

“No. Sadly he didn’t come before…” She shook her head as though searching for the words.

Nita and I could easily have filled in the blanks, but we didn’t say anything. We all understood what she’d left unsaid.

“I was touched to learn Doris thought enough of our friendship to write to her family about me. She was such a kind woman.” Anne’s doleful look showed how much she missed her friend.

Nita refilled our cups with tea from the teapot and then placed it on the table. “How long had you and Doris been friends?”

“About ten years. I met her when I first moved to Louiston and joined the arts group. When she began having a difficult time getting around and stopped attending our meetings, I started visiting her to help keep her connected to the group.”

“That was good of you,” Aunt Kit said. “So often older members of a group simply fade away.” I wondered whether she was thinking about her own experience. I needed to maintain better contact with her, perhaps influence her to move back to Louiston so I could keep an eye on her.

Anne took another sandwich from the tray. “Doris had been a supportive member of the group for many years, but from what I understand, she never participated in group painting sessions or displayed her work at shows. The poor dear was self-conscious about her artwork, which she viewed as amateurish. But she so enjoyed painting.”

“Did you ever see her work?” Aunt Kit asked.

“A few pieces she had hanging in her home.” Anne looked at her empty teacup and reached for the teapot.

“And,” Nita prompted, “was it amateurish?”

“Let’s just say, it was a little simplistic.”

We didn’t pursue the subject anymore, feeling that we had put Anne in an awkward position commenting about her friend’s artwork.

Aunt Kit studied the selection of fruit tarts and took one topped with kiwifruit and blueberries. “What I can’t get over is Damian Reynolds being stabbed by his girlfriend. Such a loss for the art world. I have one of his prints hanging on my living room wall.”

I hadn’t realized Aunt Kit was a fan of modern art, but there were so many things I didn’t know about her. I needed to rectify that.

Aunt Kit was on a roll. “Even worse, Nita and Laura walked in and found his girlfriend standing over him—with the knife she used to kill him. And she had been a school friend of theirs.”

“That must have been just awful, you poor dears.” Anne Williamson said. She and Aunt Kit seemed to be relishing the details.

So much for going to a place that was supposed to be calming. A lot depended on whom you were with and what you were discussing. Aunt Kit and her grim outlook on everything would need far more than a teashop to mellow out. Time to change the subject.

“Nita, why don’t you show Aunt Kit and Anne the photos of the short-term rental we completed? It turned out to be a fabulous place.” Fortunately, Nita took the hint and started telling them about the apartment and showing them the photos she took.

While she talked, I couldn’t help but think of what we’d learned about Damian and the Reynolds family. And then there was his relationship with his agent. What was the full story behind that? Jaime hadn’t liked him, and Ron Zigler from the B&B had overheard Damian and his agent having a heated argument while they stayed there. That might be worth looking into further.