Chapter Six
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As a member of the Anderson family, Easton took his responsibilities to the town of Tremont quite seriously. That was why he had volunteered to be a judge in the Anderson Industries sponsored art contest being held at the community center. That explained why he was standing in the middle of a crowd with his younger brother Carter looking at a row of paintings from some of Tremont’s most artistic citizens. And more than a few who didn’t have a creative bone in their body but they enjoyed taking the classes and socializing.
When he’d remembered where he needed to be this morning he’d almost called in sick but his innate sense of honesty simply wouldn’t let him do that. He was going to have to tough out the day but it wasn’t going to be easy, because the one person he didn’t want to see was in charge of the art contest.
Dizzy. Looking especially lovely today dressed in a black sleeveless dress covered with brightly colored flowers. The skirt was short enough that it showed off her tanned and toned thighs.
Why am I looking at her legs? Stop it right now. What’s happening to me?
It was all that talk last night at the party about how Dizzy would be the perfect woman for him. That the other females he dated were boring and she was spontaneous and unpredictable. Now he was noticing her in ways he hadn’t before and he didn’t like it one little bit. It was wrong.
Dizzy might be pretty and eccentric but she selflessly gave her time to teach painting and sculpting at the center. Which was how he’d been roped into this job in the first place. She’d attended one of the famous Anderson Sunday dinners and had corralled himself and Carter in the kitchen appealing to their civic duty and not letting them out until they’d agreed. So here he was and it was awkward as hell. Just a few hours ago she’d ordered him out of her house.
For good reason, too.
After the few hours of sleep he’d managed to grab he’d come to the conclusion that although he was right about Trip Stanford not being a killer, that didn’t mean that Dizzy didn’t totally believe she’d seen a murder. He could have been more understanding and saved the tough love for the light of day. She had to have been terrified in her own home last night and that didn’t sit well with him at all.
He wasn’t the kind of man to leave a woman in distress on her own. At least he hadn’t thought that he was but his behavior said something different. Sure, Leann had been there and she could kick some major ass, but he hadn’t been the gentleman he’d thought he was. Her situation had been inconvenient and incompatible with his busy schedule so he’d acted like an ass. His only saving grace was that he truly didn’t believe Dizzy was in any danger at all.
“What do you think?”
Carter’s voice penetrated Easton’s distant thoughts as he stared sightlessly at an abstract multi-colored painting with huge splashes of red. He had no fucking idea what this was supposed to represent and it looked like a finger-painting from a toddler. This was art?
“It’s very…red.”
His brother must have thought Easton’s reply was hilarious because he cracked up, hiding his face behind his arm and pretending to write something down on his clipboard.
Carter pointed to the card next to the painting. “It’s supposed to represent a woman’s struggle against a patriarchal society.”
Easton sympathized with the female’s frustration regarding asshole chauvinists but that didn’t help him understand the painting.
“It’s red,” he repeated, raising his brows at the explanation. It sounded like a bunch of crap. “It might go well in Leann’s house. She likes red.”
“You do not buy art to match your throw pillows, Easton.” That voice. He’d been avoiding her all day, dealing with her assistant, but he was caught now. “You buy it because it speaks to your heart and soul. Because it evokes a strong emotion inside of you. It would appear that this piece doesn’t move you in any way.”
Slowly turning around, Easton steeled himself against what would surely be one pissed off female but this one wasn’t giving him the stink eye as he’d expected. Her pretty features were serene and composed as if it was someone else who had ordered him out of her house last night. Someone that looked just like her.
“I wouldn’t say it doesn’t evoke any emotion at all,” Easton heard himself say. “It’s just not a strong one.”
Dizzy nodded as if he was making sense. “People all react to art differently. You might have more luck outside of the abstract realm.”
His younger brother placed his hand on Dizzy’s shoulder and Easton had the strangest urge to knock it away. There was no reason for Carter to be touchy-feely with Dizzy. They weren’t all that close, at least as far as he was aware.
“How are you?” Carter asked, his trademark grin wiped from his face and a more sober expression taking its place. “Are you hanging in there?”
Leann must have called Carter or maybe she’d talked to Noah, who had talked to Carter. Either way, the news was out.
Dizzy’s own smile had disappeared as well but she nodded bravely, her shoulders straightening. “I’m okay. Shaken up but okay, although I will say that Leann and I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.”
“I would imagine not. What are you going to do now?”
Nothing.
“Leann talked to Zach this morning and he’s going to check out Trip Stanford. See if there’s anything from before he came to Tremont.” She lowered her voice even more, barely a whisper. “I’m also going to keep an eye on the house. He might try and move the body soon.”
There was no body. No murder. He felt badly about his behavior last night but Dizzy’s belief in what she’d seen hadn’t diminished in the least. If anything, she looked more determined than ever.
Shit. This was not good.
“Zach’s a good guy and if anything is there he’ll find it.” Carter nodded approvingly. Did his brother actually believe what Dizzy was saying? The entire Anderson family had lost their minds. “Let me know if you need any help. I’d take a shift watching for some of your famous snickerdoodles.”
Dizzy was smiling again. “That sounds like a great deal. I might even throw in some apple pie too.”
Dizzy’s cooking was legendary in about three counties. Maybe more.
“Now wait a minute,” Easton heard himself objecting. “Apple pie is my favorite. Carter likes cherry.”
“I like apple,” Carter contradicted with a laugh, reaching out to touch her arm. Again. “I like everything Dizzy cooks. Seriously, call me if you need anything at all.”
Well, aren’t you the helpful one?
Carter was flirting with Dizzy. Flirting. The last thing Dizzy needed was a horn dog like Easton’s brother chasing her around with his tongue hanging out. She deserved better than that.
“We should get back to work,” Easton said, clearing his throat to get their attention. “We have a lot to do and people are waiting for the results.”
Narrowing his eyes, Carter gave him an appraising look. “Sure, we probably should get back to the business at hand.” He waved toward the painting. “I guess I don’t really understand how to figure out what it’s trying to say and how we’re supposed to judge it.”
She smiled then, her pink lips turning up at the corners, showing off dimples in her cheeks. He’d noticed them before, of course, but somehow today they looked different. But that wasn’t really possible. Unless maybe this really wasn’t the same Dizzy from last night.
Great. Now she’s got me believing in that paranormal bullshit.
“You don’t have to understand it. Your cognitive response isn’t important here, your emotional one is.” She motioned toward the painting. “The red represents the artist’s anger at society around her, which has grown larger than the other feelings represented by the different colors. Green for serenity, yellow for happiness, blue for sadness, and so on. But you don’t need to know that to judge it. You only need to tap deep down into your heart and decide how it makes you feel, even if the only thought you have is that it’s pretty or ugly.”
Dizzy had gone to art school so this all came naturally to her. Easton? This was like learning a foreign language when you had to go to the bathroom really badly but didn’t know the right words to be able to ask someone where it was located.
“I think I may be the wrong person for this job,” Easton said, frowning at the rows of paintings on the walls of the center. “You should have asked Leann. She’s all about feelings.”
Carter scratched on his clipboard. “I think we can handle this. I know what I like and don’t like.”
“Perfect. I really do appreciate you both helping out today. And I do have Leann helping out as well. She’s judging the sculpture entries in about an hour.”
A small group of people had wandered close by to look at the artwork. Two couples who were clearly old enough to know better were giving Dizzy sly looks and not bothering to hide their laughter.
The news about her call to the police had obviously gone viral all over Tremont. Nothing was faster or more efficient than the gossip in a small town. Twitter had nothing on Tremont’s rumor mill.
Easton scowled at the people but Dizzy laid a hand on his arm and shook her head. “Don’t bother. It’s been happening to me all day. I found a drawing of a ghost on the door this morning when I opened up. If you give them any attention it will only encourage the behavior.”
“It’s bullshit,” he growled, practically baring his teeth to the two couples who quickly vacated the area, almost falling over each other in their haste. Good. They’d known what they were doing was wrong but they all knew that Dizzy was too sweet to say anything. But Easton wasn’t. “You don’t have to take this.”
Dizzy looked him right in the eye, her own expression hard. “You didn’t have any problem dishing it out last night, so I think you might want to check your hypocrisy meter. It’s in the red. Now, where were we? Right, you were judging these paintings. Do you have any more questions? If not, I need to check in with the other judges.”
She didn’t wait for his answer, whirling around and striding away. His gaze landed on the sway of her hips for a second too long because Carter was now grinning like an idiot.
“Clearly there is more going on between you two than this art contest. Care to share, big brother? This has to be a great story.”
“It’s not,” Easton replied bluntly. “Dizzy and I had a few words last night. End of story. See? Not so fascinating.”
“Are you sure? Because the tension between you two is almost electric and a hell of a lot more than a tiff.”
Easton shrugged, not willing to go into the details with his brother. “Just a disagreement. She wasn’t happy that I didn’t believe her about Stanford. We had words about it and she asked me to leave.”
Carter’s brows shot up to his hairline. “You don’t believe her? You think she’s lying?”
There was incredulity in Carter’s tone but he simply didn’t understand.
“Of course, I don’t think she was lying. I believe that she thinks she saw something. But there is no evidence that there was any murder, so clearly, she didn’t see what she thinks she did. But yes, I believe she believes it.”
Carter glanced over to where Dizzy was speaking animatedly to a few of her students. “But she’s a little crazy so she can’t have actually witnessed what she said she did? Right?”
Carter actually sounded like…
“You believe her?”
“Sure do.”
This day was becoming as strange as last night. Cue the Twilight Zone music.
“Even though there’s no evidence at all?”
“Yep, because Dizzy wouldn’t lie.”
Everyone kept thinking Easton thought she was lying. He didn’t think that.
“I didn’t say she–”
Carter held his hand up. “I don’t want to hear your lame excuses. You’re always saying how weird Dizzy is but she’s really not. And she’s absolutely not the type to make something like this up. If she says she saw something then she saw something. That’s it.”
Easton stepped closer so they wouldn’t be overheard. “You think Trip Stanford is a killer?”
“I don’t know if he killed anyone but I sure as hell know that Dizzy saw him in an altercation with someone.” Carter frowned as if he couldn’t figure out Easton. “We’ve known her practically our entire life. When has she ever made an accusation like this? I don’t know what happened last night but I know that something bad happened. You might want to try being a little more supportive. She’s been through hell and here she is walking and talking like normal today. Not many could do that.”
That was true. Even if the murder didn’t happen, Dizzy was convinced it had and that had to be traumatic.
Wait a minute. If the murder didn’t happen?
He was losing his mind too.
“I should probably apologize.”
Carter wrote on his clipboard and then moved down to the next painting. “You think?”
Easton owed her an apology. A good one. Groveling wasn’t his favorite thing to do but he’d do it. Dizzy was a nice person and she deserved it.
“She said that I couldn’t help myself. That it’s in my nature to want physical evidence,” he said defensively. If she understood did he still have to apologize?
“That’s true. Doesn’t make it any better though. You need to say you’re sorry or Mom is going to chew you a new asshole if she finds out how you acted.”
None of the Anderson boys ever wanted to piss off their mother. She never yelled but she had a way of being disappointed that had much more of an effect. Now their father? He yelled. And then sent them out to do the worst chores on the ranch as a punishment.
“How would she find out? Do you think Leann will tell her?”
He knew Dizzy wouldn’t. She wasn’t a tattletale. Never had been.
That cocky grin was back on Carter’s face. “If she doesn’t, I will. Now let’s get this done so you can go grovel a little.”
Something Easton wasn’t very good at.