5

Logan didn’t believe Tessa’s mother had anything to do with the artist’s death, but the paleness of Tessa’s face told him that she was clearly disturbed by the painting.

“Your mom was at home when you received the call about the murder, right?” he asked.

“Yes.” Tessa’s brow furrowed.

“Then you have nothing to worry about. Your mother wouldn’t hurt a soul.”

“No, of course not. But she could easily be taken advantage of. I have to double check her bank accounts and see if any money is missing.”

“Brad Moore and Steve Rhodes are on the top of my suspect list.” If Logan were married, he would not want his wife getting naked for another man.

Tessa seemed to shake off her shock. She went back into the studio and sat at a desk in the corner. “There’s nothing illegal about painting women in the nude.”

“Jealousy has nothing to do with the law. Was this artist good looking?” Logan had only seen the man dead. Dante hadn’t been at his best after catching a harpoon with his chest.

Tessa pushed a button on the answering machine. There was only one message—Shannon Moore asking when her painting would be dry enough to pick up. Tessa opened a drawer. “He was too young for my taste. I prefer men to boys.” She pulled a manila file out of the desk and set it on the blotter. “But he was certainly easy on the eyes. I imagine plenty of women would have been interested.”

Why did the thought of Tessa being interested in a man irritate him?

She opened the file and flipped through several pages. “Here are the invoices and contracts for the four nude portraits. The women each paid a two-thousand-dollar deposit, with an equal amount being due upon delivery. The two women we didn’t recognize are both from Seattle.”

“Maybe they were tourists.” Logan pulled a bookcase away from the wall and checked behind it.

“It seems Dante’s arrangements with Shannon Moore, Pam Rhodes, and the other two women were the same.” She looked up at him. “This is all on the up-and-up. There’s nothing subversive here. They weren’t sneaking around.”

“I’ll bet their husbands didn’t know.” Logan crossed his arms over his chest.

“We’ll have to interview them and find out.” Tessa tapped her finger on the desk. “There’s no contract for my mother’s painting.”

“Maybe we’ll find it somewhere else.”

“Maybe.” Tessa surveyed the room. “We’ll take the paintings, the invoices, and the cash with us as evidence.”

Tessa’s phone beeped. She read the display and pressed “Answer.” A minute later, she ended her call. “The medical examiner ID’d our body. Dante’s real name was Frank Martin. He was from New Jersey, and he was wanted for fraud. They haven’t found any next of kin yet.”

“So he was a con man.” Logan wasn’t surprised. The whole setup felt sleazy.

“Could be,” Tessa said. “Let’s talk to Jerry.”

Logan followed her out of the barn. Her limp was getting worse.

Jerry was leaning on a tree, his face turned up to the sky. The sun had broken through the clouds. Even the weak winter rays were appreciated.

“Jerry, did you know Dante’s name wasn’t really Dante?” Tessa stopped in a ray of sunlight.

“No way, really?” Jerry shook his head.

“His real name was Frank Martin. He was from Jersey.” Tessa winced and shifted her weight off her wounded leg.

“No shit?” Jerry barked out a laugh. “If I was Frank Martin from New Jersey, and I wanted to talk a bunch of rich women out of their clothes and their money, I’d have changed my name too.”

“You knew about the women?” Tessa asked.

“Sure.” Jerry nodded. “Dante could turn on the charm. He had a nice little enterprise going. You don’t think he could have actually made any real money painting lighthouses and crap like that?”

Tessa frowned. “Do you think there was more going on between Frank and the women than was strictly professional?”

“No.” Jerry shook his head. “He told me he wasn’t sleeping with them. That was the most beautiful thing about his plan. All he had to do was flatter them and tell them how beautiful they were. He was so good, he didn’t need to sleep with them to get their money.”

“He played them,” Logan said.

“Hey.” Jerry raised both palms to the sky. “He made them feel good about themselves. They would walk out of the barn beaming. They were so happy. What’s the harm in that?”

Logan thought there was plenty, though he couldn’t come up with any specific argument on the spot.

“I’ll need the key to the barn,” Tessa said.

Jerry handed it over.

“Thanks,” said Tessa. “If we have more questions, we’ll call you.”

She returned to her vehicle and found a roll of crime scene tape.

“I’ll seal the door.” Logan went back to the barn and fastened the tape across the entrance.

“We need to talk to Pam Rhodes and Shannon Moore and their husbands.”

“After Henry takes a look at your leg,” Logan said.

She sighed. “Fine.”

They dropped the evidence at the sheriff’s station, then made a detour to Henry’s office. The office was empty when Tessa limped into the waiting room and eased into a plastic chair.

Logan stepped up to the reception counter and called out, “Hello?”

Henry walked out from the back room. At one o’clock in the afternoon, the office was closed for lunch. His nurse, Julie, would be having her lunch with Bruce.

“I know it’s your lunch hour, but I cut myself,” Tessa said.

“Come on back.” Henry gestured toward the doorway that led to the exam rooms. “I just spoke with the regional medical examiner. You might want to come in too, Logan.” Henry paused. “As long as Tessa doesn’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Tessa hobbled down the hallway.

“First door on the right.” Henry pointed.

Logan followed Tessa and Henry into a small room. Tessa hopped up on the table and rolled up her pants leg. Blood had seeped through the Ace bandage wrapped around her calf.

Henry put on gloves and removed the bandage. He adjusted an overhead task light. “Do you know what you cut it on?”

“A nail.” Tessa leaned back on her hands.

Henry sized up the wound. “I’ll give you an antibiotic injection along with a tetanus shot.” He took a vial from the cabinet and drew clear liquid into a syringe. “This is a local anesthetic.”

Tessa didn’t flinch as Henry injected liquid in several locations around the wound, but her fingers curled around the edges of the table.

“The ME said he would be calling you next, Tessa.” Henry gathered supplies and laid them out on a sterile cloth. Then he cleaned and disinfected the cut. “There weren’t any major revelations during the autopsy. The harpoon nicked the aorta. He bled to death.”

“You had that spot on,” Tessa said as the doctor started the first suture.

Henry tied off a stitch. “You know about his real identity?”

“We just found out,” Logan said. “Did you ever treat him?”

Henry shook his head. “He never came into the office while I was here. I checked the patient files but found nothing in his name.” Henry snipped a thread, applied a bandage, and taped it into place. “Finished. Only five stitches.”

“Thank you, Henry.” Tessa rolled down her pants leg.

“If I told you to stay off your leg, would I be wasting my breath?” Henry removed his gloves.

“Yes.”

“Thought so.” Henry smiled. “In that case, keep the wound clean and covered. Come back in seven days so I can remove the stitches.”

“Thank you.” Tessa led the way out of the doctor’s office.

Logan followed her outside.

“Why don’t we leave your truck here?” she asked. “We can pick it up later. Seems silly to follow each other around in separate vehicles all day.”

“Are you sure you want to drive?” Logan asked, nodding at her leg.

“It’s my left leg. Not a problem.”

“All right.” Logan climbed into the passenger seat of her patrol SUV. “While you drive, I’ll see what I can find out about those other two women in the paintings. Where do you want to go first?”

Tessa drove out of the lot. “The Naked Sheep Winery is the closest. Let’s talk to Shannon and Brad Moore.”

The winery was on the east side of the island. They drove out of town and into the rolling hills. By the time they arrived at the winery, Logan had determined that both of the tourists Dante had painted were currently in Seattle and had strong alibis. “They’re off our suspect list for now.”

“That leaves Shannon and Pam and their husbands.” Tessa parked in front of the winery’s office. The vineyards stretched out behind the quaint white building.

“How does the leg feel?” Logan watched Tessa climb out of the driver’s seat.

“Fine, though I suspect it will not be quite as fine when the local wears off.”

They went inside the building and entered a wood-floored lobby. On the right, a sign pointed toward the tasting room. Logan poked his head through the doorway. The winery was a small business. Brad was behind the gleaming wood bar, polishing wine glasses. He looked up as they entered.

“Are you here to try some wine, or is this official business?” Brad set a glass on a shelf above the bar and picked up another. He was in his late forties. His hair was more salt than pepper, and a small paunch strained the front of his blue button-down shirt.

“Official business, I’m afraid,” Tessa said. “We’re investigating the murder of local artist Dante Moreno.”

Brad’s mouth flattened. His gaze shifted to the open doorway behind Logan and Tessa.

Logan’s instincts went on alert. Brad knew something.

“What do you know about him?” Tessa asked.

Brad’s empty hand gripped the edge of the bar, the veins on the back corded, as he fought—and lost—his battle for control. “Shit!” He threw the glass in his hand at the wall. It shattered, shards flying through the air and raining to the floor.

Logan eased his shoulder in front of Tessa’s. She shot him a look. He shrugged. She could be in charge of the investigation, but Logan would handle Brad if the man got physical.

Tessa moved closer to the bar. Logan took two steps to the left, ready to cut off Brad’s escape if he decided to run.

She leaned in. “When did you last see him, Brad?”

“I don’t know.” Brad’s voice rose.

“Are you sure? Where were you last night?” Tessa asked.

Brad looked confused. “I was home.” His eyes widened. “You don’t think I had anything to do with his death?”

“Did you?” Tessa’s tone was serious.

“No.” Brad shoved both hands through his hair. “Look, the guy barely registered for me until today. But Shannon has been crying all day. I asked her why.” Brad rubbed both hands down his face. “Apparently”—he enunciated each syllable—“he was painting her.”

“You didn’t know?” Tessa asked.

“No,” Brad snapped. “I wouldn’t have allowed it.”

“Allowed?” Logan asked. “Does your wife have to ask permission to do things?”

“No.” A vein in Brad’s neck throbbed. He glared at Logan. “This was different.”

Tessa jumped in. “What happens if Shannon doesn’t ask you?”

Brad took a step backward. He spun, pacing the tiny space behind the bar. Two steps, angry pivot, two steps. “It’s not like that.”

“Why don’t you explain it to us,” Logan suggested.

Brad flashed him another glare. “You don’t understand.” His voice dropped until it was nearly a whisper. “She was naked,” he said through gritted teeth.

“But it was just art,” Tessa said. “Did you think there was more to it than that?”

Brad took two steps and whirled around. “No.”

“Then why are you so upset? Don’t you trust your wife?” Logan rested both forearms on the bar, holding Brad with his gaze.

Sweat broke out on Brad’s forehead. “I didn’t do anything. You can’t pin this on me. I was home all night last night. You can ask Shannon.”

“We will,” Logan said.

“Where is she?” Tessa asked.

Brad crossed his arms over his chest and sulked. “At the house.”

Logan pointed at Brad. “Stay here.”

Tessa glanced over her shoulder. “One more thing. You’re a fisherman, right?”

“Yeah.” Brad’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Do you own a harpoon?” Tessa asked.

“Sure.” Brad nodded. “A harpoon is better than a gaff for bringing in a really big fish. Safer. Does less damage to the fish.”

Logan and Tessa went outside and got back into the SUV.

Tessa started the engine. “We can’t make him stay anywhere unless we arrest him.”

“I know.” Logan cracked his window. “But it felt good to say it. And maybe he doesn’t know.”

The Moores’ house was just down the road from the winery. Tessa parked in front of the large two-story white house with a circular driveway. They went up to the front door and knocked. No one answered. Tessa stabbed the doorbell, leaning into it impatiently. Logan could hear the chimes echoing in the house.

A few moments later, the door opened. Shannon stood in the entryway. Yoga pants showcased a fit body. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore no makeup. She’d clearly been crying. Her eyes were red and swollen. She clutched a tissue in one hand.

“Are you here about Dante?” Shannon’s voice quivered.

“Yes,” Tessa said. “We need to ask you a few questions. Could we come inside?”

Nodding, Shannon stepped back and opened the door wider. With her hand fisted around the tissue, she gestured for them to come in. She led them to a huge white kitchen with a marble island and a stunning view of the vineyard. Through the picture window, Logan could see rows of grapevines stretching across the acres.

Shannon slid into a kitchen chair and leaned her elbows on the table. A half-empty bottle of merlot and a glass sat in front of her. She tossed back a swallow of red as if it had been tequila.

Tessa slid into the chair across from Shannon. Logan leaned a hip on the counter and watched.

“When was the last time you saw Dante?” Tessa kept her voice soft.

Shannon waved a hand helplessly in the air. “My final sitting at his studio was last week. On Friday.” She closed her eyes and sniffed. “The portrait was finished and drying. I was waiting for Dante to call me to tell me when I could pick it up. It was going to be Brad’s Christmas present.”

“Brad didn’t know about it?” Tessa asked.

“No. I worked really hard to keep it a secret.” Shannon’s voice stretched out the last word into two sobbing syllables. More tears spilled from her eyes.

Tessa snagged a tissue from a box on the table and handed it over. “How many times did you meet with him?”

Shannon took the tissue and blotted her eyes. “I don’t know exactly. Maybe six or eight?”

“You’ve been planning Brad’s Christmas present for a long time.” Tessa plucked another tissue from the box. “What was Dante like?”

“He was very sweet and charming. At first, I was self-conscious. But he made me feel comfortable.” Shannon pressed the fresh tissue to her mouth. “He made me feel good about myself.”

“Did you know anyone who was angry with him?” Tessa asked gently.

“No.” Shannon, crying, shook her head. “I can’t believe he’s dead.”

Tessa’s voice sharpened just a hair. “Did you know that his name wasn’t really Dante?”

Shannon stopped crying. “What?”

“His name was Frank Martin,” Tessa said. “He was from New Jersey.”

Shannon’s mouth opened for a few seconds. Then she recovered. Her gaze dropped to the table. She began to shred the tissue in her hand. “It doesn’t matter. He probably wanted to use a different name for his art, the same way writers use a pen name.”

Her voice sounded as thin as her excuse. She didn’t want to believe he’d taken advantage of her.

“He lied to you,” Tessa pointed out.

“That portrait of me he painted . . .” Shannon’s eyes shifted toward the window, but she wasn’t focusing on the landscape. “No one has ever made me feel that beautiful.”

Which didn’t say much for Brad.

“Was Brad here all night?” Logan asked.

Shannon studied the shredded tissue in her lap. “Yes.”

Logan didn’t believe her. “Are you sure? There’s no way he could’ve slipped out while you were sleeping?”

Shannon seemed to be surprised by the question. Something flashed in her eyes. “I don’t think so.”

“Think?” Logan pressured.

“Well, Brad was in a bad mood last night.” Shannon gathered the bits of tissue into a tight fist. “I had two glasses of wine and went to bed early.”

Shannon drank a lot of wine.

“What time did Brad come to bed?” Tessa asked.

“I don’t know,” Shannon admitted. “I didn’t wake up when he came to bed.”

Logan imagined Brad’s alibi sinking slowly, like a boat with a hole just big enough to fill faster than one could bail. “Did he tell you what he was upset about?”

Shannon shook her head. “The winery didn’t have a good year. He’s been tense about money for months.” Her gaze traveled around the big-ass kitchen. Guilt crossed her face. “We redid the kitchen last summer. I overspent. You know how renovations are. Every problem you uncover leads to ten more.”

Logan scanned the professional range, high-end drawer dishwasher, and fancy fridge. Unexpected issues aside, Shannon had expensive taste.

“Brad didn’t know Dante was painting your portrait?” Logan asked.

“No. As I said, I wanted it to be a surprise. Now it’s all ruined. He’s mad that I let Dante paint me naked, and he’s furious about the money I spent on the portrait too.” She stared down at her hands.

Tessa stood. “We might be back with more questions.”

Shannon nodded. Without looking up, she cleared her throat. “I know this sounds wrong and selfish to ask, but where is the portrait?” Her gaze skittered away, and she chewed on her lip. “I mean, I paid for it, and it was finished. Doesn’t that make it my property?”

“For now, the portrait is evidence,” Tessa said. “After we solve Dante’s murder, we’ll sort out ownership. Thank you for speaking with us. We can let ourselves out.”

They left Shannon sniveling and sniffing at her kitchen table and went outside.

Tessa climbed into the SUV and slammed the door harder than necessary. “I can’t believe Shannon wants the painting.”

Logan slid into the passenger seat. “Why not? She paid for it.”

“True.” Tessa turned right and drove toward the northern shore of the island. “But it would forever remind me of murder.”

“We know one thing for sure. Shannon was very happy with Dante’s work.”

Tessa gave her head a wry shake.

“Brad Moore stays on the top of my suspect list. His wife tossed out his alibi like last week’s trash. She could have lied and said he was with her all night, but she didn’t. Do you think their marriage is shaky?”

“I don’t know. Shannon is sweet, but I don’t think she was thinking straight. I’m not sure she understood she was hurling Brad under the investigative bus. Why would Brad have killed Dante if he didn’t know about the portrait?” Tessa asked.

“We only have his word that he didn’t know. What if that’s why he was in a bad mood last night?” Logan had seen the jealousy on Brad’s face. It hadn’t looked fresh. No. Brad had been steaming for a while. “No one can keep a secret on Widow’s Island. Shannon went to the art studio at least a half dozen times. Someone saw her. Someone told Brad. He knew.”