Overkill (The Belinda & Bennett Mysteries, Book Four) Read online

  His phone buzzed and he almost answered before checking the caller ID. Colleen again. Jonas sighed and let it go to voicemail. He would have to break down and talk to her eventually, he knew that. But today he was procrastinating. He had a date with a beautiful woman, complications to work out because he couldn’t scuba dive, and work. Colleen would have to wait.

  He enjoyed the serenity of the park for a few more minutes, then headed back to the station to have Alec brought in for further questioning, and to hunt up Angie from the art museum.

  Chapter 11

  After spending an hour or so sailing the next morning, Belinda and Kyle came back to their house to get ready (namely, eat) and go their separate ways: Belinda to the auction house, Kyle to work at the marina.

  She knew he’d rather blow it off to sail all day, but she kept reminding him he needed the money for Australia. Now was not a good time to quit his job, though she was encouraging him to think a different direction workwise–preferably something less dirty–and maybe something closer to his passion for sailing. Sanding down boat hulls had been his recovery work. But that was past and now she felt he should move closer to the sailing itself. He was volunteering, giving lessons to kids at the yacht club, which was a start. But she was thinking more along the lines of doing something full-time that actually paid.

  While cracking eggs to make a quick French toast, the doorbell rang and Belinda wiped her hands off to answer it since Kyle had already jumped in the shower. As soon as she opened the door, she wished she’d ignored it in favor of finishing breakfast.

  “How did you do it?” Colleen Maguire filled up the side door, her hair pulled into a loose bun, an oversize shirt draping off one shoulder. Belinda noticed her roots needed serious touching up at this point.

  Belinda thought this could be a bad dream, until Colleen barreled past her into the house, still talking without any sort of introduction or waiting for an invitation. “You got that lickworthy Bennett guy back after royally screwing up and almost ruining both your lives. How did you do it?”

  Belinda closed the door and followed her into the kitchen. Colleen whirled around and faced her with a demanding, almost angry, expression.

  Belinda crossed her arms, staring Colleen down. That was insulting, but certain other things needed addressing before she got mad about the “royally screwing up your lives” part. “First of all, never ever use the word ‘lick’ and ‘Bennett’ in the same sentence again. It won’t end well for you. Second, what are you talking about? You didn’t even say hello, and I can’t read your mind to know what this conversation is supposed to be about.”

  Colleen sighed impatiently. “It’s about losing men and getting them back again. You were on the verge of an epic breakup two weeks ago and now you’re discussing whether a June wedding is too cliché. What did you do?”

  Colleen followed her over to the sink where Belinda cracked another egg. Looked like it would be three for French toast. “June weddings are overrated. Trust me. Now, slow down. I’m not doling out advice without having more info. Tell me what’s going on–from the beginning.”

  Belinda’s motives were kind of twofold. She did mean what she said, but she also wanted the scoop on Colleen and Jonas, as she guessed that’s what this was really about. He was a catch, and she could picture being frantic over letting him get away.

  Colleen inhaled, staring out the kitchen window. “Jonas and I…had a thing.” Belinda tried hard not to seem too keen on hearing the rest, going about her business firing up the stove. “Brief…but intense. Then I kind of blew it and I didn’t see him for a while. But seeing him again more recently, I realized I wanted another chance. I’ve called, but he won’t get back to me.”

  “Like once?”

  “A few times. I texted him first and told him I wanted to talk about us and got nothing. So then I thought maybe that was too much, so I tried to get a hold of him at the station since he wasn’t calling me back, and–”

  “You called him at the station?” Butter sizzled and splattered all over the stove as a piece of egged-up bread slipped from Belinda’s fingers onto the griddle. “Did you talk to someone other than Jonas?”

  “Well, he doesn’t have a direct line at the temp station…”

  Belinda stared at her in disbelief.

  “Was that wrong?” Colleen said.

  “Um, yeah, I’d say that was wrong. Do you want his colleagues to think he’s giving you dirt? Or…or…dating you?”

  “Whoa.” Kyle stood on the stair landing, holding a T-shirt in one hand and pointing it at Colleen. “You’re dating Jonas?”

  Belinda glared up at him, then focused all her intensity on Colleen. “Never ever call him at the station again. Not if you want him to like you.”

  “Then what am I supposed to do?” Colleen folded her arms. “He won’t get back to me.”

  Belinda tilted her head to the side as if to say, “Maybe that’s a clue.”

  “So you just rolled over when what’s-his-face wouldn’t call you back?”

  Belinda kept her eyes on the tree branches bowing up and down in the wind near the kitchen window. Colleen had a point. Belinda hadn’t given up when Bennett was ignoring her. He didn’t call her after the drive-by, and she’d been upset, but then she’d swallowed her pride, dug in her heels, and basically demanded he deal with her. Of course, she knew he actually wanted to but felt hurt and upset himself at the time. If he hadn’t wanted her, it would be over by now and they wouldn’t be making out in her driveway…or in the car…or that one time behind the statue of Bacchus at an outdoor dinner party.

  “You’re telling me,” Colleen added, “that you didn’t have to force his hand…even a little?”

  “Okay, Colleen,” she said with resignation, “I did. And I know you know his name is Bennett because you used it five seconds ago.”

  Colleen shrugged. “So what did you do?”

  “I just…I took the initiative and told him he was coming over to use our pool one day, and I didn’t really give him a choice. Of course, I know if he hadn’t wanted to come deep down, he never would have.”

  “That’s it? Poof, you’re back together and living the fairy tale again?”

  “Well, no. There was a lot in between. We both talked, openly and honestly, about how we felt and what was really going on. We were keeping a lot from each other and it was dividing us.”

  “How did you get him to open up to you?”

  Belinda flipped the French toast, suddenly aware that Kyle was standing quietly on the other side of the kitchen, listening to their whole conversation. “I’m honestly not sure. Maybe I opened up first, I don’t remember. But I still hold to my earlier admonition to just apologize. It might work wonders.”

  Colleen digested that. “Plates?”

  “To my left.”

  Colleen set the table, pensive and quiet. Belinda eyed her while she finished making breakfast, curious what was going on in that unbleached head of hers. And wondering what had happened in the universe that she was having breakfast with Colleen Maguire.

  Kyle sidled up next to her while she dished out the food. “She’s kind of hot,” he said with a troublemaker grin.

  “Don’t. You. Dare.”

  “You sounded really wise right then.”

  “Right then?”

  “What you said about Bennett. You’re a lot more certain about everything now, aren’t you?”

  Belinda gave that a passing thought while piling up breakfast on a serving dish. “I think I am.”

  “Good. I’m glad.”

  Kyle looked like he was contemplating the mysteries of the universe. She tapped his head. “What’s going on in there?”

  “Nothing. It’s just…I wouldn’t want to leave you if you weren’t.”

  “You think you’re my glue?” Belinda smiled. “Well, you’re right.”

  “It works both ways.”

  Belinda pecked his cheek. “Come on, my future around-the-world sailor. We have br
eakfast to eat.”

  Later that afternoon, Belinda and Victoria strolled down the sidewalk toward the auction house to attend the auction Belinda and Bennett had witnessed unfolding earlier. The sun danced between the large branches of an old maple in the churchyard across the street, cars zigzagged by them, and a woman on the other side walked her golden retriever. In other words, it was a perfect Portside kind of day.

  Except for the stomach spasms that gripped her every time she remembered the cookout with her parents was later that day. She’d accidentally reminded Bennett about five times already, so he finally called her and told her to relax.

  “So she really asked you for love advice?” Victoria passed her a chocolate truffle. Belinda had just finished retelling her morning with Colleen. “Wonders never cease.”

  “I think she wanted a formula, which I couldn’t give her.”

  “So what do you think happened with the two of them?”

  “I’d venture to say it had something to do with the news. I’m more curious why Jonas went out with her to begin with. Seems like a dangerous liaison for a police officer.”

  Victoria shrugged. “She’s pretty and he’s still a guy.”

  “True enough.”

  Victoria smacked her lips together. “So, these paintings you stumbled on?” Belinda met her friend’s twinkling eyes and handed her the phone. Victoria took her time examining the evidence before she spoke again. “The nude, Belinda? How scandalous.”

  “It’s the most blackmail-worthy.”

  “Naturally. You think Angie painted these?”

  “Well, it is signed A.L., which could be Angie, except her last name is Chen, far as I know. Then there’s the whole digging them out of a Dumpster business.”

  “Maybe someone else tossed them and she was getting them back?”

  Belinda had trouble picturing that scenario. Or Angie painting something like that at all. It didn’t seem like her style. “Okay…but how did we go from a weird abstract sculpture to a perfectly non-abstract naked man?”

  “Change of scenery?”

  “Big change.”

  “Maybe she got a new boyfriend.”

  “And a completely new style, subject aside.”

  “Could be old. Artists typically change as they grow. Or maybe A.L. is another student. What about that list you saw at the museum? Was there anyone on there with the initials A.L.?”

  Belinda wracked her brain to remember any other names besides the two that jumped out at her: Shelby Lachappelle and Kevin Pratt. And neither was a match.

  The barn doors of the auction house were closed that day, so they went in the usual way through the main front door and up the stairs to the auction hall. They each snagged catalogs for the sale and something to drink and entered the crowd to mingle.

  Jarrett wasn’t kidding about the shoes. As soon as she glanced around, she saw feet donning the same or very similar shoes to what she wore to have lunch with her parents at the yacht club recently. Fashion news traveled fast around Portside. Victoria gave her an approving wink.

  “Belinda!” Adrian Leon lit up as soon as he saw her. “And where is your lovely mama today?”

  “Previous engagement, I’m afraid. But she did authorize me to bid on a couple of items for her.” That pleased Leon. With the house renovation, her mom was also rethinking the décor.

  “She does have exquisite taste.”

  “I wanted to thank you for your help with the painting.”

  Leon looked out at her over his reading glasses. “Yes, yes. How did that go?”

  “Well, naturally, that Simone was taken, but I wondered if you knew of any other of her works on the market, or even of those who paint in her style?” The problem was normal art collectors didn’t want fakes, they purchased them by accident because someone lied. And she couldn’t very well ask for a fake Simone outright. For one thing, no respectable auction house or art dealer would do such a thing. For another, if they did, they certainly weren’t going to tell anyone.

  Leon took a moment to consider, but his face wasn’t giving her hope. “Not off the top of my head. But,” he made sure to hold her eyes in an equally confidential manner, “I will keep my antennae up and let you know as soon as I hear of one.” He winked.

  Belinda smiled. This might be for nothing, but he might also be able to locate other paintings. If they were also fakes, it could help get to the bottom of things.

  Belinda craned her neck to find her short best friend, spotting her chatting with Dinah and Shelby Lachappelle. Shelby looked bored, but smiled brightly when Belinda joined them. “You look very chic,” Belinda said to her.

  “Well, it was by necessity,” Dinah said. “She has paint on everything else.”

  Shelby rolled her eyes. Dinah put an arm around her, but Shelby remained stiff, gripping one arm.

  “Busy preparing for school?” Belinda said. Shelby nodded. “I heard your work compared with Simone recently.” Belinda had thought about how to phrase this, and that sounded much nicer than, So, I hear you like to paint in everyone’s style but your own.

  Shelby looked back quizzically. “Who said that?”

  “Angie Chen, Simone’s assistant. We were just chatting about some of Simone’s work the other day.”

  Dinah laughed. “Angie? Angie wouldn’t know style if it smacked her in the face. She’s jealous of Shelby’s talent.”

  “Mom–”

  “It’s true.”

  “I think she just mentioned what a prodigy Shelby is,” Belinda added. “She just mentioned you were in a class recently. She thought you had too much talent and skill for it.”

  A flash of anger passed through Shelby’s gray-blue eyes. Belinda wasn’t positive if it was directed at her or Angie.

  “Class?” Dinah said. “What class, honey?”

  “I think she confused me with someone else.” Shelby squirmed from her mother’s grasp. “I need to go to the ladies’ room. Excuse me.” She walked stiffly toward the bathroom, her arms hugging her waist.

  Dinah watched her walk away, clearly confused herself. “Excuse me,” she said and went after her daughter.

  “What do you think that’s about?” Victoria whispered while they took seats in the back. Everywhere they went now, they had to be in close proximity to the bathroom for Victoria’s sake.

  “I’m wondering if Angie’s really the jealous one. She has kind of a thing going with her environmental art.”

  “Maybe they have a little bit of a rivalry?”

  “Dinah and Angie, or Angie and Shelby?”

  Victoria thought about it. “Well, Angie and Shelby are both still students. But isn’t Dinah kind of a frustrated artist? I thought I’d heard she couldn’t really get her career moving after college.”

  Belinda glanced back toward the bathrooms. “Maybe she gets jealous of other people’s success in that regard. Even though I don’t think Angie is quite that successful yet.”

  Victoria shrugged, flipping to a page in the auction catalog. “Maybe she just doesn’t like her for some reason. Though I can’t figure they’d know each other that well.”

  Belinda peered over to Victoria’s catalog. “Oh, no.”

  Victoria grinned, a big star next to an antique garden gnome.

  “Dan will kill you. Wait, I take that back. He will spare you because of the baby, but he will glare at you for eternity.”

  “Who says he’ll know?”

  Belinda gave her a look. “You don’t think he’ll notice a gnome miraculously popping up in the garden?”

  “He doesn’t know how many there are.”

  Belinda gave her another look. “Oh, I think he does.”

  “You should get a gnome. You have a garden now.”

  “Maybe…though I’m convinced they wake up and do jigs in the middle of the night. They’re kind of creepy.”

  “They only do that in groups.” Victoria winked.

  Shelby reappeared out of the bathroom and booked it for the entrance.
Belinda and Victoria exchanged glances as Dinah took a seat a few rows ahead of them. “Bid on my items,” Belinda said, shoving the catalog on Victoria’s lap before she fast-walked from the hall, following Shelby’s steady strides to the front entrance.

  Belinda almost had to jog to keep up, reminding herself to stay out of Shelby’s sight. She was grateful for her flat sandals. Because of recent events, she’d almost completely forsaken wearing anything with a heel over a quarter inch.

  Shelby moved along down the long descent of that street into the main artery of Portside. Even for a weekday afternoon, the sidewalks were crowded and Belinda dodged and swerved to avoid knocking into people. She finally gave up on the sidewalk and hugged the curb on the cobblestone street, which was its own brand of interesting to walk on.

  She thought she’d lost Shelby completely at one point, searching for her strawberry blonde head. She finally saw Shelby slip around a corner at the end of that street, near the town hall. Belinda sped up, taking the corner more slowly. Up by the small movie theater that played stuff no one ever heard of, Shelby talked on the sidewalk with a guy. It was a straight shot up, so they’d see her for sure if she just followed. Belinda looked around, noticing a large construction van parked across from the theater. The street was a glorified alley; she could probably hear their conversation from there.

  Belinda darted across the street, trying not to get hit by a car or trampled by uncouth pedestrians (tourists!), hiding in a bundle of other people going the same way.

  Once safely behind the van, she peered around to get a better look. The guy faced her, and she realized she had seen him. On the news, being interviewed when Kevin Pratt was found dead. Belinda thought he was one of Kevin’s friends, staying with him in town. Was it odd that Shelby knew him? She obviously did because they were arguing.

  “Why won’t you just tell me what happened?” Shelby said, her voice squeaking.

  “It was just a stupid fight, Shelby.” They both folded their arms. “It happened, we got over it. No big deal.” He wasn’t a big guy, but he looked intimidating next to Shelby with his biceps flexed under his T-shirt. He had brown hair. Not an exceptional trait, but noteworthy in light of the paintings in the Dumpster.