Chapter 29

Colors can evoke different emotions. Warm colors can make a house feel cozy and inviting while cool colors can provide a sense of calm and relaxation.

That afternoon, I found myself again standing in front of the police station, facing a meeting with Monica. I didn’t want to visit her again, and the thought of it caused my stomach to clench. But I felt I should give her an update on what Nita and I had been doing related to her business and tell her about the memorial service for Damian Reynolds. Sister Madeleine would expect that of me at the very least. When would I ever learn to resist helping people or simply saying no? I also hoped Monica could tell me something about Garrett Fletcher and Edward Albertson.

I climbed the granite steps into the police station with as much enthusiasm as a novice hiker starting up Mt. Kilimanjaro. The trek up the stairs could be just as dangerous, recalling my collision there with Detective Spangler. I carefully looked for anyone coming around the corner at the landing.

I’d arranged the visit in advance, so Monica knew I was coming. After checking in and showing my ID card, I took a seat and waited to be called. Following my visits there with Tyrone in the spring and now with Monica, the waiting room was becoming all too familiar. Any more visits and the authorities would be issuing me a frequent visitor card.

When Monica appeared on the other side of the glass divider, I took my seat in front of her. She didn’t look any more pleased to see me than I was to see her, and we sat staring at each other. It had to be mortifying for her to be seen like this and know that her business rested in my hands.

I decided to be the better person and break the ice. “You’re looking well.” I knew that sounded inane, but I didn’t want to ask her how she was doing. What could I expect her to say: “I’m doing great, how are you?”

Monica ran her fingers through her hair. “I’d look a lot better if you could smuggle me in some hair dye.”

I laughed. “And get jailed for smuggling contraband?”

“If I’m here much longer, I’ll end up a brunette.” Monica sighed deeply, as though she’d brought the exhaled breath all the way from her toes. “And to think I had such lovely blond hair while growing up.”

What could I say? If we couldn’t discover who’d killed Damian, she could be coming out of prison someday, if she ever got out at all, with white hair.

Monica sat up straighter, possibly to shake off the same thought. “But you didn’t come here to talk about my hair. Why did you come?”

“Maybe to console you that your business isn’t falling apart—yet.” I filled her in on my meetings with her young assistant and all that Nita and I had been doing to help meet deadlines. “The Greens were quite pleased with how the apartment over their garage turned out. It will be a terrific short-term rental.”

“That was a cute space and one begging to be used. I’m glad they were pleased.”

I contemplated asking Monica about her move into home staging and the things that had been happening to sabotage my business and then decided against it. The incidences had stopped once she had been arrested, so I could only assume she’d been responsible for them. Nothing would be gained by confronting her about them now.

Abruptly, Monica’s eyes welled with tears. “Why do things have to change? Damian and I were doing so well together.”

That I couldn’t answer. Damian and Ian couldn’t have anticipated the abrupt changes in their lives. That thought made me think.

“Did you know Ian Becker?”

“Ian Becker? Wasn’t he the man who was murdered a few days before Damian?”

“Yes. The one Nita discovered at the funeral home. He used to spend summers in Louiston with his aunt—his last stay was about twenty years ago.”

She shook her head. “I don’t recall anybody by that name. Why?”

“It’s just so strange that both Damian and Ian had been stabbed in the back. With you being found with Damian, the police have no reason to suspect the same person committed both murders. If we could find a link between the two murders, perhaps we can discover who killed Damian.”

Monica’s face broke out in a wide smile. “You finally believe I’m not guilty of stabbing Damian.”

“I’m not going to go that far,” I said. “But if you didn’t kill Damian, the only way to prove you are innocent is to find out who did.”

“Does that mean you’re investigating again?” Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Let’s just say that I’m asking questions.” I didn’t want to give her false hope.

“You helped Tyrone—maybe you can help me.”

Monica must have become desperate for her to look at me as the solution to her situation.

“What can you tell me about Damian’s agent?” I asked.

“Garrett Fletcher? I didn’t like the man, and he didn’t like me.” Now that was a big surprise.

“I heard he and Damian had a heated argument while they were staying at the B&B. Did you know about that?”

“No, but it got to the point where they were arguing quite a bit, so that doesn’t surprise me. Garrett represented Damian from the time his work started gaining recognition. He was quite controlling, and Damian let him get away with it. That is until he moved here and we started seeing each other. Garrett saw me as a threat to their relationship.”

“Do you think Garrett had any reason to want Damian dead?”

“I didn’t like the man, but I really can’t see him killing Damian, even in anger. He would be really foolish to do so since Damian was his most successful client.”

“Could Garrett have been cheating Damian?”

Monica shrugged. “I don’t know. But since you said Damian had consigned some of his art collection to Josh’s business, something had to account for his financial problems.”

“It could be as Garrett said—Damian stopped painting. That would have started drying up a major source of his income. You don’t make a fortune teaching at a small college.”

Monica’s forehead furrowed as though deep in thought. “Damian didn’t say much about it, but I got the impression the divorce settlement with his ex-wife was huge. That could have taken a bigger toll on his finances than he expected.”

“Do you have any reason to think there might have been anything between Garrett and Helen Reynolds?”

Monica eyes widened in surprise. “I don’t know. I never met her, and Damian didn’t say anything about that. Why do you ask?”

“I’m trying to consider anything that could have a bearing on Damian’s death—even if farfetched.”

Monica seemed to mull that over but didn’t add anything more.

“What about Professor Albertson at the college? Do you know anything about bad feelings he harbored about Damian?”

“Are you talking about that old story about Damian being involved with Edward Albertson’s wife?”

I shrugged.

“Damian said he was surprised to discover Edward Albertson was a member of the Fischer faculty. He’d known him from somewhere else—I don’t remember where. Edward was pretty unpleasant to Damian when we saw him at functions. When I asked him about it, he said Edward long ago had accused him of being involved with his wife. Damian denied it.” Monica laughed. “After seeing Phyllis, I believed him.” Typical Monica.

I didn’t mention the photo I had seen of Damian with the Albertsons. Monica was probably as gullible as I was occasionally, wanting to believe him.

Time to change the subject. “I also came today because I thought you might like to hear about Damian’s memorial service.”

Monica nodded slowly, so I went on. “Nita and I attended the service. The chapel at Hendricks Funeral Home was filled to capacity. Family and friends talked about his school days and how hard he’d worked to get a foothold in the art world.”

Monica dabbed at her eyes that were starting to fill with tears again. “Did anyone mention that Damian’s father had been angry he didn’t go into engineering and join his firm? He predicted Damian would become a starving artist.” Monica paused. “I wish his father had lived long enough to see how successful Damian had become.”

“It was a moving service,” I said.

When Monica’s chin began to tremble, I decided it was a good time to leave.

As I walked away, I heard a faint “Thank you.”

Now that I’d gotten Monica’s hopes up, how was I going to deliver on finding out who’d killed Damian?