Death by Dragonfly Page 16

  “Mr. Randall? Hello. I’m Richard Mason. I don’t mind telling you up front this whole business with Gallant stealing Leo Pierson’s artwork and then found dead, possibly murdered, and Stein’s boat exploding—it’s all very unnerving. How can I help your investigation?”

  “I’m checking with everyone who was at Pierson’s luncheon a week ago.”

  “Oh, I was there. Wouldn’t have missed it. I wanted to see Leo’s collection. Absolutely super. He’s really upset. I know I would be.”

  We paused before a display of North Carolina wildlife. A stuffed beaver peered out over a log at a stuffed gray squirrel holding a nut. Fake turtles poked their heads out of plastic water, and a fake copperhead coiled near the shore. A stuffed blue heron gazed out at us, head cocked very much like Mason’s, eyes curious and glassy.

  “Do you have a collection of your own, Mr. Mason?”

  He looked modestly at the floor. “I’m an artist, myself. In fact, I’m talking with Nancy Piper about mounting an exhibit at the Parkland Museum.”

  “That’s great. Congratulations.”

  Up came his head. I almost expected the stuffed heron to fly off, startled. “Oh, I have a long way to go, but I’m encouraged by my dear friends who feel I have talent. Leo’s one of them. I’m horrified by the theft of his work. Are you any closer to solving the crime?”

  “I have a few leads. You have a security system in your home from Guardian Electronic…is this right?”

  “Not anymore.” Mason looked at the animal display, lips pursed as if deciding how to rearrange the critters. “After what happened to Leo’s, I don’t trust mine. I’m getting something else.” His little eyes tried to bulge. “You think Guardian Electronic is involved?”

  “Possibly. Then again, it could’ve been faulty wiring, like Lawrence Stein’s boat.”

  “Wasn’t that awful? You’d think a large boat like that would be safe. Or do the police think someone meant to blow it up?”

  “Right now, they’re calling it an accident.”

  “Well, Lawrence wasn’t all that easy to get along with.” He cocked his head again, maybe to shake loose some memories. “He could be quite cold. But I was invited to parties on his boat several times, so he wasn’t completely indifferent to me or the other board members. He did enjoy showing off that boat.”

  “Can you think of anyone who’d want him dead?”

  “No, and I can’t think who’d kill Gallant, either. Such horrible news. I still can’t believe he stole Leo’s art.”

  “When’s the last time you saw him?”

  “At Leo’s for lunch.”

  We walked past the beaver and his lakeside friends to a second display, this one featuring a family of stuffed deer, heads up as if sighting a family of hunters. Mason’s large forehead wrinkled in thought.

  “Mr. Randall, who do you think is responsible for the murders?”

  “I think it has something to do with twenty-five million dollars.”

  He looked as stunned as the deer. “What? Is the artwork worth that much?”

  “There’s a possibility the stolen items hold clues to the location of the money. It has to do with a feud between Pierson’s family and the Duvall family. Had you heard anything about that?”

  “A feud? Isn’t that sort of old-fashioned these days?” We reached the end of the hallway where a huge stuffed hawk hung over the doorway. Mason gazed at the hawk and shook his head. “Of course, there will always be people who can’t get along.” He motioned to the right. “Would you care to see one of my pieces? It’s in the next hallway.”

  I expected a nerdy little landscape, or a still life with apples, but Mason pointed with pride to a pile of scrap metal and springs set on a block of shiny black stone.

  “I call it The Last Gasp of Freedom in a Material Society. It’s my favorite piece.”

  I walked around the mini-junkyard. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Oh, you have to get the full effect. Allow me.” He took what looked like a remote control from his pocket, aimed it at the pile, and the piece screeched to life, rotating slowly, the springs going up and down as if trying to escape from such a hideous collection. “All my pieces move. I feel that art should be alive, not static. You can truly sense the angst of a society caught within the grasp of materialistic ennui.”

  “You certainly can.”

  “There’s also a button on each one for a more interactive experience.” He pressed a button on the stone and Last Gasp halted in mid-screech. I couldn’t decide if it was uglier moving or at rest. “I used to paint, but I feel I’ve truly found myself in the world of movable art. I’m hoping to mount a full exhibition of my work.”

  Junkyard of the Damned. I took a closer look at the sculpture. I couldn’t be exactly sure, but when I was first searching for Samuel Gallant, hadn’t Camden picked up a piece of that same twisty copper wire to repair the screen door? Come to think of it, hadn’t Andrew Winston mentioned the top of a mobile left behind? “Did you have a piece of artwork at the Princeton Gallery?”

  “Yes, one of my earlier mobiles, Motion Carried. Unfortunately, I had to retrieve it when the museum closed and some clumsy person had broken the top. People are always calling it modern art, which is not the point at all. Modern art doesn’t appeal to me.”

  If there was a piece of art more unappealing than Last Gasp, I wanted to see it.

  “Where do you find the materials for your work?”

  “Everywhere. Whatever calls to me.”

  Hmm. Did something call and say, Meet me at the Princeton where we can plot a burglary and murder? I thanked him for the tour. “Good luck with your exhibition. I’ll keep in touch. Oh, by the way, whose black SUV is that, the one with the broken window?”

  Mason leaned over his sculpture to adjust one of the gears so I couldn’t see his expression. “That must belong to someone at the bank. They use my parking lot all the time, even though I’ve asked them not to park there.” He straightened. “Was there anything else, Mr. Randall?”

  “No, thanks.”

  I saw myself out and took another good look at the SUV and made note of the license number. The back window was tinted, as well, but thanks to my peep hole, I caught a glimpse of the interior. I wasn’t surprised to see pieces of wire, screws, and odd hunks of metal. Richard Mason had been prowling around. What did he hope to achieve?

  Then there was my client. When I called, his answering machine boomed with another obscure quotation. “Who calls? The cry goes out from far and wide, and yet there is no reply. Vouchsafe thy message unto me, and I will respond anon.”

  “Vouchsafe.” Now there was a twenty-five-dollar word. “Pierson, this is David Randall. Respond anon. Farewell.”

  I had to consider the fact that Pierson might have killed Samuel Gallant. Wouldn’t Camden have picked up something from the handshake? No, the dragonfly vibes had been too strong. Or did those vibes include his murderous activity? Did Pierson know Gallant was the thief, track him down, stuff his cell phone in his shirt pocket, and wait until it zapped the pacemaker’s battery? That seemed unlikely. For one thing, if Pierson killed Gallant, he’d never recover the rest of his Art Nouveau. But maybe he still had his treasures and the robbery was a cover for a larger crime. Was Pierson that good an actor?

  I called Jordan and asked him to check on the license number. Then a text from Kary alerted me she was on her way home with news.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I Do Not Have To Die For Love”

  I got home first and found Wally’s van parked in the drive. Wally wasn’t hunkered down under a sink or unhinging a shower. He was sitting in a porch rocking chair, drinking a Mountain Dew. I hadn’t seen him dry, but he looked pretty much the same.

  “How’s it going, Wally?”

  “Taking a break,” he said. “I been at it all day. Te
ll Cam he’d better take a look into the future and see some winning lottery numbers.”

  “Not a bad idea.” I stood where I could see down Grace Street.

  “You expecting someone?”

  “I’m waiting on Kary.”

  Wally took a swig. “You sweet on her?”

  “Yes, I am, Wally.”

  “She’s a taking little thing, but I suppose you’ve noticed Cam’s house is full of good-looking women.” Wally crossed his fingers over his tubby belly. “I don’t mind telling you there’s one lady here I especially admire.”

  “Yeah, Ellin’s not too bad when she’s calm.”

  He looked at me as if I were crazy. “Ellin? No, I’m talking about Miss Evans.”

  “Miss Evans? We have a Miss Evans living here?”

  “Vermillion Evans.”

  I tried to rearrange my features into polite interest. I’m not sure how well I succeeded. “I didn’t know her last name was Evans. So you and she—you’ve been—you have something in common?”

  “Hell, yes,” Wally said. “Woodstock!”

  I would never have figured Wally for a flower child. “How about that?”

  “We got to talking, and when she found out I’d been there, she was so tickled. Started asking me all kinds of questions. It’s really cosmic, if you think about it.”

  Cosmic is certainly one of the terms I’d use. “It’s nice you two have a love of the Sixties in common.”

  Wally gave me a wink. “We’re hoping to build on that. She’s agreed to go with me to the Plumbers Ball next month.”

  “You’ll have to buy a new plunger.”

  Wally roared with laughter and slapped his knee. “My old one works just fine, son.”

  I saw a possible solution to the problem of Vermillion. “In your line of business you must go into a lot of apartments and condos.”

  “Sure do.”

  “As much as Camden would like Vermillion to stay here, he’s concerned about looking after her. He and Kary have been trying to find a place that can take her in, a quiet place where she can meditate.”

  Wally gave me a serious look. “Really?” He took another big swig of his drink. “Besides the Ball, I was considering asking if she’d like to have dinner with me sometime. Think she’d go for it?”

  “Wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

  “You say she needs a place to stay?”

  “Yeah, we’re not always here, so she spends a lot of time at the park to be with other people.”

  “Sure do hate to think of Millie being lonely.”

  “Millie” for Vermillion. Millie and Wally tiptoeing through the tulips, sharing hits from a bong, putting flowers behind each other’s ears—my mind wouldn’t go any further with that scenario, tempting though it was.

  The Mountain Dew had given Wally courage. He finished his drink and set the can down with a firm clank. “I’ll do it. Thanks, Randall.”

  “Good luck.” Hopefully, two flower children would not have an issue with free love, and Millie could move into Wally’s swinging bachelor pad.

  Finally, Kary’s Turbo came down the street. She parked and got out, adjusting a large bag onto her shoulder. I met her in the driveway.

  “Any luck looking for art in art?”

  “No, and I got through less than half of the exhibits. The museum is much bigger than I thought.”

  She was wearing a white sundress and sandals. “Unless you’re undercover as the most beautiful girl in a summer outfit, you’re not wearing a disguise. How did you manage to peek under things?”

  She reached into her pocketbook and brought out a sketchbook. “Ta da! You always see people and art students sketching the paintings to practice technique. That gave me an excuse to peer closely at everything.”

  “Let’s see your work.”

  She kept the sketchbook from my grasp. “Oh, no. I have no talent at all. You’ll laugh.”

  “Come on, I need a good laugh.”

  After a brief giggling skirmish, I won a look inside, and I did laugh at the odd stick figures and indefinable shapes. “Well, it works as modern art. I hope no one was looking over your shoulder.”

  “No one would be so crass.”

  I flipped through the pages. “Can we put one on the fridge? Art should be for everyone.”

  “Of course. Oh, there’s Wally. I hope we haven’t had another emergency.”

  She waved and Wally waved back.

  “You’re going to love this,” I said. “To Vermillion’s delight, Wally was at Woodstock. He seems smitten, so I’m attempting to unload her.”

  “That would work. He’s a nice guy. Oh, but I haven’t told you my big news! I was leaving the Renaissance Gallery when Richard Mason charged in all a-quiver and took the stairs two at a time. Naturally, I followed him, and he went straight to Nancy Piper’s office.”

  “He must have run over to the museum right after I left. Please tell me you overheard their conversation.”

  “I did until he slammed the door shut. He was all riled up. I heard him say, ‘Why didn’t you call me?’ and she said, ‘What are you talking about?’ He said, ‘They know about the feud.’ She said, ‘It’s not a secret.’ He said, ‘The money is, isn’t it? Plus I’m pretty certain he knows that’s my car.’ That’s when he slammed the door. I couldn’t hear what they were saying after that, but they argued like crazy until he stormed out. I pretended I was admiring a landscape down the hallway, and he didn’t even notice me.”

  “Anything further from Nancy?”

  “All was quiet. What do you think it means?”

  I didn’t have time to tell her I wasn’t sure what it meant. My phone beeped with a message from Camden. “Camden needs a ride to the Ramada,” I told Kary. “It’s psychic fair time. Want to go?”

  “I’d love to, but preliminary pageant interviews are tonight and I must prepare for all those tricky questions, like ‘If you were in charge of the world, how would you address climate change?’ You can tell me all about the fair later, and we’ll hash out all the details of this case.”

  We kissed, and she ran up the porch steps to greet Wally. I picked up Camden at the shopping center where we got takeout Chunky Chicken and fries and ate in the car.

  Camden spread his fries out on a napkin. “There’s enough room in your car for a seven-course meal.”

  “Another reason to choose the ’67 Fury.” I passed him one of the ketchup packets. “I met Richard Mason at the Little Gallery this afternoon. He creates pretty horrible metal sculptures and is hoping for an exhibit at the Parkland Gallery. He also seems to know something about electronics. All his gadgets are remote-controlled. Plus he knows about the feud, drives a black SUV with a couple of rock holes in it, and Kary overheard him talking with Nancy at the museum about how we were on to him.”

  “Case closed?”

  “I don’t have any evidence that he or Nancy had anything to do with the break-in or the murders. It sounds like they’re after the big money, though. They know about the feud and the reward.”

  Camden ate a few bites of Chick Snacks and returned to the fries. “Maybe Gallant agreed to steal the artwork for a cut of the profits, and they cut him out.”

  “Nancy Piper had a Guardian Electric brochure in her purse, which she must have picked up from the highly enthusiastic salesman I talked with. She could’ve told Gallant how to disarm Pierson’s system, or Mason could’ve shown him.” I finished eating, wiped my hands on one of the many napkins Chunky Chicken had provided, and started the car. “The thing is, if they stole the artwork, then they have the keys to this twenty-five-million-dollar puzzle. Why haven’t they found the money? Oh, Wally the plumber might take Vermillion off our hands. She has been charmed by the unmistakable lure of Woodstock. I hinted strongly that she needs a good home.”

  “Nice job, Cupid. I
t might work.”

  When we got to the Ramada, I parked the car and turned off the engine.

  Camden looked surprised. “You’re coming in?”

  “Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  The psychic fair was located in ballrooms A and B. As we went down the hallway, I heard wind chimes and rustling leaves. People gathered about long tables, picking up brightly colored brochures. Ballroom A had many small tables set up for Tarot cards, palmistry, and other readings. Ballroom B had long tables set up for dealers, who were selling crystals, herbs, candles, feathers, jewels, and lots of dragons, unicorns, stars, and moons. I inspected a few of the brochures. As well as the more familiar palmistry, astrology, and numerology, there were brochures advertizing Angel Readings, Get to Know Your Guardian Angel, Vibrational Adjustment, Chakra Alignment, Personalized Talismans, and Gemstone Elixirs.

  Ellin approached us looking very professional in her gold suit and white blouse. Small crescent moon earrings and a large crescent moon pin sparkled as she moved. “Cam, I have a place all set up for you.”

  “Ellie, I told you I don’t want to take anyone’s money.”

  “We are trying to raise money for the service.” She was practically grinding her back teeth she wanted him there so badly. “With Graber breathing down my neck, this fair has got to be a success.”

  Camden quickly glanced around, but the area was snakeless. “Is he here?”

  “No, this is my deal. Now, you promised. Come talk to a few people and tell them some nice things. Nothing drastic.” Her smile was tight. “We have people waiting.” She hardly spared me a glance. I guess my aura needed adjusting.

  I followed as she pulled him past the different booths, easily resisting the advanced energy healing, the out-of-body travel agency, the live antioxidant enzymes, rebirthing, and transmission meditation. A hell of a lot of ways to find meaning in your life, each and every one guaranteed to give you happiness and success.