Publishable By Death by Andi Cumbo-Floyd (free books to read txt) đź“•
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Divina sighed. “I know. But my art is the way I make good on the awful things I’ve done.”
“You mean by donating it to the scholarship fund to cover up your guilty conscience?” Elle asked. Apparently, Elle and I weren’t on the same wavelength about how to deal with the homicidal woman. I wanted to placate her, dissuade her. Elle was apparently going for antagonism.
“Oh, I didn’t donate that painting because I felt guilty – at least not entirely. Nope, that was about telling the story of that night. I expect neither of you noticed, but there’s a black man chasing down two men on horses with a shotgun in that piece. It’s subtle, almost a secret, just like Berkeley’s murder has been kept secret all these years.”
I tried to remember the details of the art piece from when I’d looked at it earlier, but I couldn’t recall anything that resembled a person chasing two men on horseback. It had looked like an abstract collage with hints of the town buildings to me. But then, I didn’t know art. Maybe that story was there . . . or maybe Divina was more mentally unwell than we knew and just thought it was.
“My art is my work of justice. And I’m not done yet. So I’m afraid you will have to be.” She lowered the shotgun while she scanned the room. “I don’t want to ruin your inventory. You’ve done such a nice job of creating this story. I know Berkeley would love it, and that display at the front, the one with The Green Book, that’s beautiful. Now, we need a place—“
Just then, the door burst open, and Mayhem charged the petite woman just as I jumped forward to grab her gun. A shot went off, and I spun around in some sort of Matrix-inspired attempt to dodge a bullet I suppose.
The spray of shot blasted into a stack of books just as Daniel tackled Divina and I wrested the gun from her hands. Mayhem stood growling over her, and Taco waddled over to check on Elle.
A few seconds later, Sheriff Mason ran into the room, gun raised, but when he saw that Daniel had Divina firmly by the wrists, he holstered his weapon and put the artist in handcuffs.
Elle and I ran to each other and hugged, tears streaming down our faces. Then, we turned to face Divina, only to be met with a blank stare, as if she couldn’t even see us.
As the sheriff escorted Divina out, he turned to us. “I’ll need your statements, ladies, but why don’t I come to your place and get them, Harvey? Daniel, you can get them home?”
“Absolutely.” He came to me then and wrapped me in a deep hug before pulling Elle to him, too.
When we got to my house, Mart met us at the door with blankets and mugs of hot chocolate spiked with what I suspected was whiskey. Daniel had apparently texted her about what happened as we walked over. I had insisted on walking, and Elle had agreed. We both needed the cool night air to calm our heart rates.
Mart installed both Elle and me on the sofa, and Aslan came to settle right between us. Daniel called Cate and Lucas and texted Marcus and Rocky. Soon everyone, including Woody Isherwood, was in our living room with looks of concern written deep on their faces. Not a single one of our friends asked us about what had happened, but they kept checking to be sure we were warm enough, asking if we needed more hot cocoa – or straight shots of whiskey if Woody was doing the asking – and getting us snacks every few minutes.
By the time the sheriff arrived, I was calmer and so exhausted that I wondered if I might drift off there right in the midst of everybody. When Mason said he needed to take our statements, everyone but Elle and me headed to the kitchen within earshot, but far enough away to give us space.
We told the sheriff what happened, what had led us to believe that Divina was the murderer and what she’d confessed to us. “You didn’t happen to record all that, did you?” he said with a wry grin.
“Alas, no, I was a little more worried about getting shot than I was about getting my phone out.” I tried to laugh, but the sound caught in my throat.
Elle smiled. “I actually thought about it, but since I can barely turn on the flashlight on my phone, I figured I couldn’t be stealthy enough to actually record anything. With my luck, I’d probably start playing Queen’s “We Are The Champions” instead.”
I giggled at the image of Freddy Mercury’s voice filling up the bookshop, and then I started to laugh for real. Soon, I was doubled over and breathless with laughter. . . and then I was sobbing. The sheriff motioned for Daniel to come in, and I felt a warm arm pull me close as I let myself cry.
After I caught my breath, Sheriff Mason said, “I was mostly kidding about the recording. Divina confessed to everything in the car, told me pretty much the same thing you did. Even mentioned dropping the knife and going back to find it. That’s what she was doing the night we caught her back there.”
I turned to Elle. “You put things together quickly – how did you know about the Tubman connection?”
“I don’t know. It just sort of came together in my head, and I said it before I had a chance to think. Looking back, it all seems sort of obvious.”
“It always does,” the sheriff said. “It’s too bad justice couldn’t have been served back then. Maybe we wouldn’t have had to serve it now.” He stood up and headed for the door, and I couldn’t help but wondering how he was doing. Now didn’t seem the time to ask, though.
“So that’s it. Nothing else,” I said.
“Nope, nothing else. Daniel had already given me the heads up about Divina earlier today, so I was planning on picking her up for questioning tomorrow. You two just saved me the trouble.”
I gave Daniel a quick glance. He shrugged and gave me a sad smile.
Somehow, I didn’t think that our investigation was exactly making less work for the sheriff, but I was glad the murderer was off the streets. Mason waved as he headed toward his car.
Lucas and Cate gave me a hug and offered to give Elle a lift home, and Woody headed out at the same time. Mart and Marcus offered to do clean-up, so Daniel and I drifted back to the couch.
“You couldn’t wait until tomorrow, huh?” I wanted to be angry with him, but I just couldn’t.
“No, I couldn’t. I was too worried. And I don’t know you well, but I know you well enough to know you weren’t going to let this go.” His face fell. “I should have been there tonight, though. Harvey, I’m so sorry. I thought you were safe with Elle there.”
I scooted closer to him, folding my legs and leaning over to grab his shoulders. “Me, too. I had really hoped Divina had bought my story about Elle. But I guess she didn’t . . . we did make it a little too easy for her, though, both of us being together. Two birds with one—”
“Nope, too soon. No killing metaphors, please.”
I turned and let myself lean against him, and he pulled me close and tucked a blanket around my legs.
By the next morning, the entire day before felt like a dream – one that had gone from delightful to nightmare. I had mostly relegated Divina’s actions to the past, vowing to not forget them or to ignore them, but to not dwell in the darkness either.
Mart took a day off from the winery – a well-earned one since she’d signed up a record number of folks for their subscription offering during the festival the day before – and came in to help me run the shop. Marcus was right on time as usual, and Rocky came in with a plate full of muffins. “Mama says muffins are for recovery, so this is for you.” She handed me a white paper bag that was hand-decorated with beautiful drawings of hyacinths. Inside was a single muffin in a bright blue paper and a note, “You are strong, Harvey Beckett. Never forget that. – Love, Mama Phoebe.”
I didn’t even wait for the tears to stop before I took a bite right out of the top of that muffin – banana nut with more walnuts in it than I’d ever had in a muffin before. I could taste the vanilla, and the caramelized sugar on top crunched on my teeth. But those walnuts, “Oh woman, you tell your mama that she knows how to help a woman recover.” Rocky laughed and headed to the shop.
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