Sweet Violet's ghost by J A Whiting

Author:J A Whiting [Whiting, J A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J A Whiting Books and Whitemark Publishing
Published: 2020-12-25T16:00:00+00:00

It was dark when the chief dropped Angie and Jenna back at their homes. Angie walked into the Victorian to find Euclid, Circe, and Violet waiting for her in the foyer.

“Hello, best cats and dog,” Angie patted each one of them. “It was a very long afternoon. Rachel’s friend has been murdered.”

After Euclid threw back his head and howled, they followed Angie into the kitchen where she made a cup of tea. “Where’s everyone else?” she asked the animals.

They trotted into the empty family room and over to the door to Mr. Finch’s apartment.

Holding her tea mug in one hand, Angie knocked on the doorframe of the open door.

“I’m here,” Finch called from inside.

Walking through the kitchen-dining room and crossing the living room, Angie headed to the cozy sunroom where Finch had his easel set up.

“Miss Angie,” he called to her. “Here I am.” He spun on his swivel stool to face her. “How are you? What an awful afternoon you’ve had. It was terrible news.”

The cats and the glittering dog jumped onto the small sofa.

Throughout the afternoon and early evening, Angie had sent texts to the family with information on the murder of Jessica Hanson.

Sinking into a chair, she leaned back against the soft cushion. “I sure wasn’t expecting to discover Jessica dead.” She filled in more details for Finch and answered his questions before asking, “Where is everyone?”

“Josh had something to tend to at the resort and he took Gigi with him. Miss Ellie is at the selectboard meeting and Miss Courtney is at the candy shop. They’ll be home soon. Did Jenna go home?”

Angie gave a nod. “Chief Martin dropped her off at her house.”

“How are you feeling? Can I get you something? We wrapped up a plate for you from dinner. Shall I warm it up?”

Angie smiled at the kind man. “I can do it. I don’t want to interrupt your painting.”

“Oh, that’s all right. I’d rather talk with you. Why don’t we go to the big kitchen so you can eat?” Finch stood and Angie was able to better see his painting.

“That’s beautiful. What a lovely scene.” She walked over to admire the man’s work. Finch had painted a cozy-looking farmhouse set on acres of trees and meadows with a field of pumpkins. Some of the leaves on the trees were just beginning to change colors.

“Have you seen this place?” Angie asked.

“No, I haven’t. At least, not to my knowledge. It just came into my mind when I picked up my brush to start a new painting.”

Something about the artwork pulled at Angie, and she stared at it letting her eyes roam over the canvas. “When did you start working on this?”

“The day after Rachel Princeton went missing.” Finch covered his paint palate and collected his brushes to bring them to the kitchen sink for cleaning. “I’ll just clean these off before we go to the main kitchen.”

Angie remained rooted in place still looking at the new painting. An art-lover, collector, and artist, Mr. Finch

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