Paint a Murder by Lily Ashton

Author:Lily Ashton [Ashton, Lily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: whodunnit, cozy crime, murder mystery, Crime, art
ISBN: 9781916106208
Publisher: Magenta Lily Publishing
Published: 2019-08-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Walker pulled up in front of the carport and killed the engine. There was no other car around – Vivien wasn’t back.

Alice let herself out before Walker got to the door.

“That’s a big garage for only two cars,” she said.

“We’ve got other cars. The BMW’s having a prang repaired. I’ve also got a Defender like yours, which I’ve lent to one of our neighbours.”

Alice shuffled on the driveway, moving the gravel beneath her blue Vans.

“If you’ve got time, I’ll show you some of my own paintings.” Walker flicked a speck of dust from the car’s bonnet.

Alice hesitated. She should head on really, but the opportunity to see Walker’s studio was irresistible. She nodded, following him along a path that took them past the carport and through a spinney.

The path tracked up through the trees and opened into a clearing at the top of a hillock, where a lonely whitewashed summerhouse stood, encircled with a covered veranda.

Walker unlocked the door, revealing a deceptively large, open studio, flooded with light from tall windows on every side. A couple of easels held paintings at different stages of progress. A selection of palettes, an electric kettle and a collection of dirty rags made up the usual artist’s paraphernalia. Not many studios, however, had a smart shower room and kitchen like the ones she found through a door at the end. Or a gun cupboard!

“Those are my father’s rifles. Vivien won’t have guns in the house. That Remington there?” Walker pointed to one of the four rifles in the glass-fronted cupboard. “That’s the one that Marley and I used to hunt rabbits.”

“Did the rabbit population tremble with fear when they saw you and your Remington coming?”

“You better believe it. I’m a crack shot.”

On the other side of the studio, a deep wooden shelf cut the wall into two halves. A line of racks along the bottom, similar to the storage units in Gregory’s House, held a few framed canvases, though from the edges of the paintings Alice could see that most of the pieces were unfinished.

Walker thrust out both arms. “Welcome to my hideaway. It’s quiet and relaxing and the views are great for painting. But best of all, as you can’t see the studio from the house, nobody knows I’m here.”

Alice looked through the windows at the panoramic views of the surrounding countryside. There was no getting away from it – this was a magical spot.

Walker rummaged through the racks and pulled out a few canvases.

“Most of my work features the immediate surroundings.” He pointed east, across the river. “I did this series of paintings last year, the same scene through each of the seasons.”

He lay four canvases in a neat row across the table. The series began with a snow-covered landscape, which burst into greening spring in the second canvas. A languid, hazy summer scene followed and finally autumn, with lush burgundy leaves and bushes heavy with berries. Alice examined the canvases, taking in the small details. There was a single bird, appropriate to the season, in a corner of each picture.

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