Bed & Breakfast 6 - Fit of Tempera by Mary Daheim

Author:Mary Daheim [Daheim, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mary Daheim
Publisher: Unknown
Published: 2010-03-22T04:00:00+00:00

“I don’t think they ate their ice cream,” Judith remarked as she got behind the wheel.

The half-dozen large, handsome older homes of Glacier Falls were located in the last two blocks before the turnoff to the cabin. A local lumber baron had decorated his mansion with the Victorian gingerbread typical of the era. Another had gone in for the log-cabin look, which had weathered beautifully over the years. A third home, also constructed at the turn of the century, had undergone a complete renovation, and looked as if it belonged in a southern California cul-de-sac. Judith smiled to herself at the differences in taste—and in people.

Up ahead, the Dixons kept the pace at about a half mile.

“Have they got kids?” Judith inquired, slowing for the bridge that crossed the river just above the falls that gave the town its name.

“I don’t think so,” said Renie. “How could Erica go running around Europe and open up galleries and be so well groomed and self-absorbed? Good grief, her fingernails are all the same length! How could she possibly have children?”

A FIT OF TEMPERA / 133

Renie’s reply satisfied Judith. The car climbed the Sand Hill, then dipped down toward the river valley. At the Big Bend, the cousins passed the road that led to Ward Kimball’s house. A half mile later, the Mercedes turned off at Riley’s property. Obviously, Erica Dixon was going to keep her vow to offer condolences.

“Past Wife comforting Present Mistress while Future Bride languishes downriver.” Renie ticked the three women off on her fingers, then swerved in the passenger seat. “Hey, look—Nella’s back. The lights are on.”

Judith hadn’t noticed; she was too busy concentrating on turning into the dirt drive. “We’ll stop by tomorrow,” she said as Renie hopped out of the car to open the gate. “Maybe we can get some ice. Let’s chip some off what’s left and have a nightcap.”

Five minutes later, Renie was hoisting her bourbon while the Coleman lantern cast dancing shadows on the knotty pine walls. “I wonder if Iris told Costello about Riley giving you that canvas. And if she let him know that Clive had been here.”

Judith sipped appreciatively at her scotch. It had been a long day. Indeed, the past forty-eight hours had been tiring, physically and emotionally. “We don’t know—and neither does Iris—if that painting really belonged to the Dixons. Only Erica and Dewitt could be sure of that, if they saw the canvas. Clive might have stolen it simply to add to the inventory. Dewitt might have taken it so he wouldn’t have to pay Riley’s estate.”

But Renie disagreed. “Erica wants ‘Spring River’ as the centerpiece of her new gallery. There’s no way she could show it off without Clive—or Iris—finding out about it. My guess is that Riley didn’t give you ‘Spring River.’ If it’s missing from the studio, then there are two stolen paintings. Sure, Riley could be impulsive, but nobody hands over a painting worth seventy grand on a whim.”

Judith, however, shook her head. “No, coz.

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