An Artful Assassination Read online

  “Didn’t you know this little town is where they film that zombie show?” Pauline asked. “Are they filming right now, Jefferson?”

  “Always,” he said.

  “And…this is normal? To just pop into zombies?” Kendell asked.

  “They roam around on Saturdays a lot,” Jefferson said. “A lot of stuff was filmed around here. Sweet Home Alabama. Driving Miss Daisy. Fayetteville is just as popular of a film destination too. But Senoia is kind of the new headquarters for the film industry. Kind of weird for such a small town, but we make it work.”

  Kendell smiled. “I think I’m really going to like this little town of yours, Pauline.”

  “Good,” Pauline said, and Dot yelped in agreement.

  4

  Kendell and Pauline arrived at the Holiday Dorsey Fife Museum in Fayetteville. It was a small two-story building, a home belonging to some prominent families during the Civil War era that now acted as a local history museum. Inside were Civil War displays, paintings, photographs, and artifacts. “I’ve never seen so many Confederate flags in one place,” Kendell muttered under her breath as she and Pauline walked around the first floor of the building.

  “Honey, you’re in Georgia,” Pauline said. “You’re bound to see those everywhere.”

  “I guess so,” Kendell said. “I saw one on the back of someone’s pickup yesterday.”

  Pauline shook her head. “Well, this is a museum memorializing the Civil War. You’re going to see some stuff paying homage to the Confederacy.”

  Felicity, Jefferson, Jack, Trixie, and Fix had arrived about an hour before Kendell and Pauline to help the Hornsbys set up for the art show. Tablecloths were laid out over tables and display booths, covering up some of the display cabinets so that they could set up artwork. TJ headed upstairs to set up chairs in the rooms where the classes would be held, and Stephanie went around placing silent auction sheets, taping them down in front of every piece of art they had on display.

  “There’s such a diversity here,” Kendell said as she admired a cat statue made entirely of spoons sitting next to an elegant painting of fruit.

  “Oh, you just wait,” Jefferson said as he and Jack worked together to bring in some hand-crafted furniture that would be going up for auction. “The Hornsbys really know how to throw an art show. The group they are a part of are all about the arts—any type of art.”

  “They have a fire dancer coming who’s going to be performing outside,” Felicity said.

  “A fire dancer?” Kendell questioned.

  “It’s art,” Jack said. “When Jefferson said any type of art, he meant it. They’re all about networking and providing outlets for artists of all kinds.”

  “There will be live music outside today too on the patio,” Felicity said. “The music groups should be arriving soon. There will be about fifteen or so different local musicians showcasing and selling CDs outside during the art show.”

  “This is really awesome,” Kendell said. “Very…New York.”

  “Hey, the South is full of artists too,” Pauline said. “Don’t go convincing yourself that you yankees are the only cultured folks around.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Kendell said, smirking. She decided to tour the museum a bit. She was ecstatic to see some costumes on display from the Gone with the Wind movie and learned that Margarette Mitchell’s parents were buried in a cemetery nearby. She could hardly believe the deep, rich history surrounding this little town. On one wall there was a black and white photograph of the main square in Fayetteville—a man sitting on a wagon out in front of the buildings that still stood, and for some reason, the photograph transfixed her.

  “I like that picture too,” an older man, probably in his seventies, said, and Kendell spun around to see a friendly gentleman staring back at her. “The man in the picture is a Mister Graves. His grandson now owns that building he’s in front of, turned it into a tavern. You ought to go by sometime. They got good food.”

  Kendell smiled. “Are you here for the auction?”

  “I’m one of the artists,” he said and stuck out his hand. “Name’s Tim.”

  “Kendell,” she said, shaking. “What artwork is yours?”

  “Did you see all the cat sculptures?” he asked.

  “The ones made from spoons?” Kendell asked.

  “That’s me,” he said. “I weld unusual objects together and make cats.”

  “That’s so fun and unique,” she said.

  “Thanks, sweetie. If you like it, bid on it for me,” he said with a wink.

  Kendell followed him out into the main hall, where most of the artwork was currently being set up. More artists were arriving with more and more artwork. Felicity came scurrying down the stairs after helping TJ set up chairs for the speakers. “Barbara!” Felicity called as an old woman and two younger men came scurrying inside, each carrying some covered paintings. “Glad you’re here. We just pulled out the easels for your paintings.” Felicity smiled at Kendell. “Mind giving me a hand?”

  “No problem,” Kendell said and followed Felicity to a corner where a number of easels were propped up. She grabbed one, as did Felicity, and the two of them began setting them up near some of Tim’s cat sculptures.

  “Oh, no,” Barbra muttered. “I didn’t know Tim was here.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Is there a problem?” Felicity asked.

  “No, no… Ignore me…” Barbara said, waving her hand to let Felicity know she was just being petty.

  When the two men helping out Ms. Barbara removed the sheets covering the paintings, Kendell was blown away. They were portraits of some actors from the Marvel franchise—ones that had filmed there in Fayetteville. “Did you meet them?” Kendell asked.

  “I ran into them and asked them to let me take a photo so that I could paint them,” Barbara said. “They gave me permission to do so, so I’m hoping to sell some of these today. I added their characters’ hero colors in the background. There’s a lot of fans around here, as you can imagine.” Barbara handed Felicity a framed piece of paper that read One Portrait by Ms. Barbara.

  “What’s that?” Kendell asked curiously.

  “Barbara is going to auction a portrait session,” Felicity explained. “She’s really good, isn’t she?”

  “You really are quite talented,” Kendell said, smiling at the beautiful images.

  “Lonnie, you and Sheldon go grab the rest of the portraits from the car, would you?” Barbara asked.

  “Sure thing,” Lonnie said, and the other man followed.

  “Are those your sons?” Kendell asked.

  “Sheldon’s my son. Lonnie is my long-time stepson,” Barbara said. “He’s a sweetie. They both are.”

  “Wow!” a squeaky voice called from behind. A young woman with her hair done up on the top of her head in intricate braids came scurrying over. “Are these your paintings?” she asked.

  “They are,” Ms. Barbara said.

  The young woman frowned. She was holding a canvas.

  “Are you a painter too?” Kendell asked.

  The woman nodded and turned her canvas around. It was a self-portrait. “That’s very good,” Ms. Barbara told her. “What’s your name, dear?”

  “Ariana,” she said. “I’m still learning. This is my first portrait I’ve done. The rest of my stuff is nature scenes. They’re nothing compared to yours.”

  “Oh, don’t say that,” Ms. Barbara said. “Besides, I’ve been at this for about seventy years, dear.”

  “I suppose time is the best teacher,” Ariana said, and Felicity ushered her into another room to get her artwork set up as well.

  Kendell thanked Barbara for showing her the amazing paintings and then continued looking around at some other artwork. Pauline came scurrying over, Dot in tow. “Have you seen some of the guitars they’re auctioning off? Beautiful.”

  “I did see those,” Kendell said, thinking about the guitars that someone had hand-crafted. “All of the artwork here is amazing. I’m glad we dec
ided to come to this. Plus, I’m actually enjoying brushing up on some Civil War history too.”

  “Me too,” Pauline said.

  “Are you kidding me!” a roar came from one of the rooms.

  “Uh oh,” Kendell said, and she and Pauline headed into the room where Barbara’s paintings were set up. One of Tim’s sculptures had crashed straight through one of Barbara’s paintings—destroying the canvas before shattering on the floor.

  “You crazy old clutz!” Tim shouted at Barbara.

  “Me! You’re the one who knocked it over!” Barbara shouted.

  “You intentionally got in my way!” he retorted.

  “Miss Barbara… Tim…” Felicity stammered. “I’m sure this was not intentional on either part. Let’s just get this cleaned up before the art auction starts, and we’ll sort this out…”

  Stephanie arrived on scene, shaking her head. “Okay, let’s move Tim and Karen’s sculptures—switch them,” Stephanie suggested.

  “Good,” Barbara hissed. “I don’t to have to deal with you today.”

  “Same,” Tim growled and proceeded to help Stephanie rotate the sculptors.

  Stephanie stood with Felicity, Pauline, and Kendell at the front entrance once all the artwork had been set up, shaking her head. “I should have known better than to set Barbara and Tim up in the same room.”

  “Do they not like each other?” Felicity asked, though that seemed fairly obvious.

  “They got into it one time at another art show about spacing, and ever since then, they’ve been at one another’s throats,” Stephanie said, shaking her head.

  “Well, that’s just rude,” Pauline said. “The whole point of your art group is supposed to be artists supporting one another, am I right?”

  “Exactly,” Stephanie said.

  “Well, we’ve got them separated now,” Felicity said. “The event is about to start, and you’re speaking upstairs in ten minutes.”

  “That’s right!” Stephanie exclaimed. “What would I do without you, Felicity?” Stephanie hurried up the stairs to prepare for her speaking engagement.

  “What is Stephanie speaking on?” Kendell asked.

  “Publishing companies. She’s a writer,” Felicity explained. “They really do mean all types of artists. The fire dancer will be getting going soon too. You should definitely check that out.”

  “Definitely,” Kendell said.

  The art show was underway, and soon, the small building was flooded with people bidding on the silent auction. One woman stood out to Kendell. She was a stiff in a suit, but she kept looming around Barbara’s artwork—immediately outbidding anyone who dared to write their name down on one of her bid sheets. Kendell overheard that the woman’s name was Lark, an interesting name that stood out to her.

  “Of course,” Ariana muttered from across the hall, gaining Kendell and Pauline’s attention. “No bids on my sheets.”

  “The art show has just gotten started,” Pauline said.

  “Barbara has twenty bids on just one of her paintings,” Ariana said. “I’m nothing compared to her.”

  “Like Barbara said, she has about seventy years of experience on you, but honestly, I really like your artwork too,” Kendell said. “I might even bid on one.”

  Ariana smiled. “Thanks.”

  “Let me get it going. You got to get some momentum over here,” Kendell said, scribbling her name on one of the sheets.

  “I think I want to go sit in on one of the speakers,” Pauline said, looking at a pamphlet that some of the event volunteers had been giving out at the door. “They have one starting on professional writing in a few minutes. Stephanie is doing that one too.”

  “Professional writing? That sounds interesting,” Kendell said, and the two women made their way up the stairs—slowly at Pauline’s pace.

  Kendell was glad to have sat in on this particular speaker. It was Stephanie as well as a friend of hers who did freelance writing. The two of them spoke about different career options for writers, and for whatever reason, it really struck Kendell as interesting. Especially when they started talking about travel writing and blogging. It sounded fun. Maybe I should start a blog, Kendell pondered as she and Pauline left the room to clear it out for the next speaker.

  “How fun!” Pauline exclaimed. “Could you imagine writing for a living?”

  “I could imagine it,” Kendell said, just as they heard a loud scream outside.

  They scurried down the stairs as quickly as Pauline’s tired old legs could take her, and when they arrived out on the front porch of the museum, they spied Ms. Barbara lying out in a bush. She had fallen. Several artists had gathered around by the time Kendell and Pauline made it outside. “Mom! Mom!” a voice behind called. It was Sheldon, pushing past people to get over to the woman now lying in the bushes. “Someone call an ambulance!”

  5

  The Fayette police arrived shortly after the paramedics announced Barbara dead on the scene. She had hit her head on the brick steps on her way down into the bushes. Felicity and Stephanie worked at ushering everyone to the back of the building to distract patrons while the police handled things in the front, leaving Kendell and Pauline standing in the middle of the museum. Those who were working the event continued moving everyone out front as Stephanie and Felicity announced the winners of the silent auction.

  “I can’t believe that poor old woman fell,” Kendell said, shaking her head. “They need to add a railing to those steps. She probably turned her ankle.”

  “Nope,” Sheldon muttered as he entered the building from the front porch where his mother had been found. The man looked a bit shaken.

  “What do you mean, nope?” Pauline asked.

  “I mean she didn’t fall,” Sheldon said. “The police just told me that my mom had fresh bruises around her wrists. They think someone pushed her!”

  The front door opened, and Felicity slipped inside and away from the outdoor portion of the event where most everyone was still fairly oblivious to what had taken place. “Hey,” Felicity said, approaching the three of them. “It’s Sheldon, right? I’m so sorry about your mother. What a terrible accident!”

  “Sheldon was just telling us how the police don’t think it was an accident,” Kendell said, and Felicity stiffened.

  “You’re kidding me,” she said. “What did they say, Sheldon?”

  “They think someone pushed her, that’s what,” Sheldon said, his shoulders slumping. “I can’t imagine someone wanting to hurt my mom. She’s just a retired old woman. It doesn’t make sense.” Sheldon paused, suddenly looking angry. “She did get into it with Tim earlier…”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Felicity suggested. “Tim is certainly someone the police need to talk to, but he’s not a particularly aggressive fellow. I doubt that he and your mother would have gotten into a shoving match over a ruined painting and sculpture.”

  “You’re probably right,” Sheldon said, then snapped his fingers. He looked at Felicity. “You’re the one who has that detective agency out in Senoia, right?”

  Pauline jumped on the comment rather quickly, as Kendell would expect her too. Pauline was always prepared to get right in the middle of any mess that presented itself. “Oh, my granddaughter is the best in the business!” she proclaimed. “She could figure out what happened to your mother. I know it.”

  “Well…” Felicity began, but Sheldon seemed persistent.

  “I want to hire you,” Sheldon said. “You can help the police with an investigation, right?”

  “Of course,” Felicity said.

  “Then I want you to find out what happened to my mom,” Sheldon said.

  The front door opened, and Lonnie slowly made his way in toward them. He reached out and put a hand on Sheldon’s shoulder. “Hey, Shelly, they’re taking her now,” Lonnie said, his voice a little hoarse.

  Sheldon frowned and rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Okay, I’m coming,” Sheldon said. “Thanks, Lonnie. Lonnie, this is
Felicity. I think you two met earlier. She’s going to help the police with the investigation.”

  Lonnie smiled. “You’re the detective who does the event shop?” he asked.

  “Well, technically speaking, I’m more of an event planner who does detective work since I started doing event planning first,” Felicity said. “But, yes, that’s me. I’ll do whatever I can to find out what happened to your stepmother.”

  “Thank you. If there is anything we can do to help, let us know,” Lonnie said and ushered his stepbrother out of the building.

  Pauline stood upright and clapped her hands together. “Ooh, I cannot wait to work a case with my granddaughter!”

  Felicity raised a brow. “Grandmama, I think it’s probably best if you let my team handle this.”

  Kendell smirked. “I think you might be surprised at how well your grandmother can handle herself. She has managed to get herself in and out trouble a good bit on our trips.”

  “What is she talking about, Grandmama?” Felicity asked.

  “Oh, there was a little incident in London…and Kenya… Hawaii… Texas… And one in Mississippi…” Pauline said this slowly as she contemplated just how much trouble she had managed to get them into during her retirement trip. “Hmmm… Kendell, I believe we may have a pattern forming.”

  Kendell instinctively slapped her forehead. “Yes, Pauline, I think so.” She straightened herself up and smiled at Felicity. “What I mean is, we’d like to help. Your grandma and I make a pretty good team, and together, I think we can solve this thing quickly.”

  Felicity smiled. “Okay. Nothing wrong with a few extra hands.”

  “Now, if you two ladies will excuse me, this old lady heard there was a dessert table set out up front, and I also bid on some artwork that I’d like to see if I won,” Pauline said, scurrying outside.

  Kendell laughed slightly, then looked at Felicity. “So, since you’re the actual professional here, where would you start?”

  “With the obvious,” Felicity said. “Tim and Barbara don’t have a good relationship. It’s best to start there, to rule it out or confirm it early on. I saw him out back in the parking lot a minute ago taking a cigarette break.”