Three Dog Island Read online

  He accepted my hug with one of his in return.

  “Are you doing okay, Jasper?”

  He was staring at empty space, his expression evolving from blank to one reflecting inner turmoil, much as a sculpture evolves from a piece of clay or stone. He was debating how to answer a seemingly simple question. In the end, he settled for the truth. “If you were anyone but Winnie’s niece, I’d tell you I’m fine, but—”

  “But?”

  His smile was resigned. “You’d see through me.”

  He was right and it wouldn’t take my intuition to do that.

  He motioned for me to follow him, which I did. I expected to see his studio. Instead he took me to the kitchen.

  “I’ve just brewed some coffee. Would you like a cup?”

  “Thank you, I would.”

  We sat and sipped our coffee in silence before I asked him, “Jasper, why don’t you get out more?”

  “I’m not sure, Jenny.” His fingers were clamped around his mug. “It’s not that I’m afraid. That’s what most people think. It’s become more just a habit. It’s come on gradually. I used to go to the gallery more, especially when they had events. And of course, to visit Winnie. And I did my own shopping, but somehow, I just—” His sigh was ragged. “I don’t know. I guess I just got—”

  “Depressed?”

  His watery eyes opened to meet mine.

  “It got worse after Winnie died?”

  “Much worse. I miss her terribly. She was such a wonderful human being, such a kind soul. She understood me. She always understood.”

  I wiped the moisture from my own eyes. “She had a way about her, didn’t she? She didn’t judge. I think that was what made her so special.”

  “Yes.”

  “But even before her death, you were depressed?”

  He nodded. “I’m sorry. This isn’t much of a visit for you. I promised to take you on a tour of my studio.”

  “I wanted to check on you too.”

  “Come,” he said, standing up and trying to rally the energy to convince me that he wasn’t depressed at all.

  His work was incredible, but then I already knew that. He had six hand-built sculptures on display. All had stories. One was a group of children playing a circle game. Alone they were solemn, but place them in a circle and their spirits’ soared. Another was a couple whose backs were to each other but when he turned them to face each other, the energy shifted and they came to life.

  This truly was a mystery. Here was a brilliant artist who understood human nature so well. Clearly he understood how lonely people can be until they reach out to others. Why was he unable to do that for himself?

  I ran my hand across his sculptures, as if I could feel his fingers as they worked their magic, creating these pieces of art.

  “They’re amazing, Jasper.”

  He shrugged. He could have joined the Josh shrug club. It was his third shrug within the hour, all following my compliments.

  I proceeded from his display case to his work bench. There sitting in all its glory was the piece he was currently working on—another clay model of the cloud that went with his boy model.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed. “You’re making another one.”

  “Yes. I couldn’t bear to think of that— that other one, being on display.”

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Jasper. I have to go out of town for a few days, but when I return, I’ll continue investigating what happened.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, Jenny. Maybe Sam and Dan are right. Maybe I am losing touch with reality. Don’t waste your time on me.”

  I took both his hands in mine, the only things that weren’t frail about him. They worked too hard to give in to emotions and aging. “It’s not a waste of time, Jasper. I believe you.”

  “I know you do, but maybe I made a mistake. Maybe I made that other piece and I’m just not happy with it.”

  “I can’t imagine that’s the case, Jasper.”

  “But Jenny, think about it. There was no break-in.”

  “It was an inside job. Or it happened when the gallery was open. Or someone got hold of one of the keys. Where do you keep yours?”

  “On my key ring which is always in my pocket. As for this happening when the gallery was open, it’s unlikely that someone wouldn’t notice a piece that large being taken out of the gallery. And why would someone want to take it? Why just one piece of it? And not the stone sculpture?” Had he been brainwashed by Dan and Sam?

  “I don’t know the answer, Jasper, but they did it. You were certain of that the day you discovered it.”

  “But the glaze was the same, Jenny. How could they duplicate my glaze?”

  “Does anyone have access to your formulas?”

  He shook his head. “No, no one can get into my studio without me.”

  “Do you leave the door open when you’re working?”

  “On nice days, of course.”

  “Do you ever go into the house to do something, prepare a meal or something, and leave the studio door open?”

  “Yes, but I’d know if someone was here.”

  I wasn’t convinced. He didn’t have a dog. Maybe it was time he got one.

  “Okay, but I’ll keep trying to figure this out, Jasper.”

  “Thank you, Jenny, but I’ve given up. I really don’t want you wasting your time. Please?”

  “If that’s what you want.” Again not convinced. If he thought it was a waste of time, why was he molding a new model of the cloud?

  His look was stern as if that would help convince me. “It is what I want, Jenny, but you could do me another favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “When I’m finished with it, will you deliver my new model to the gallery? And get rid of that other one? You’ll know how to put them together.”

  “Of course. Just call me when you’ve finished. You remember Winnie’s phone number?”

  He smiled. “Of course.”

  My cell phone rang just as I drove off his property. I pulled over to talk when I saw that it was Frankie.

  “You found out something about the dogs?” I desperately wanted to hear her “no.”

  “Paranoid any?” She must have recognized the desperation through the air waves. “No. I figured I’d check in with all the vets on the islands—Sam’s idea. They haven’t treated any of our dogs—except the vet on Anamcara when we brought them in.”

  I allowed myself the luxury of exhaling. “Thanks, Frankie, that’s good news. I think.”

  “It is, Jenny. If they’re not from around here, it’s less likely that someone will show up to claim them.”

  I hung up, convinced that she was right. One less thing to worry about. My shoulders were feeling more relaxed already. And if I obliged Jasper and gave up on his case the way he had, I’d only have one thing to focus on—finding out why Mark Simpson and his posse were after Josh and catching them and turning them in before they did him any more harm.

  Chapter 13

  Josh’s school books arrived the following day. I picked them up in town at the post office.

  “What is all this, Jenny?” Myrtle Ormsby asked me. “Sure is heavy.”

  “Oh, just some books I needed.”

  “Gosh, you could get those from Max’s bookstore. It’s good to support your local businesses, don’t you think?”

  “I do support him, Myrtle. You don’t have to worry about that.” I couldn’t very well tell her they were high school text books so once again I lied to a friend. “They’re my books that a friend borrowed. I needed them so she mailed them back to me.”

  Myrtle looked at the label. Fortunately I had thought to ask Charlie’s friend to put just a return address and not the school name on the label.

  “She lives in Southern California?”

  “Yes, in Ojai,” I answered quickly, snatching up the large package and thanking Myrtle. I’d almost forgotten about her island curiosity. It wasn’t a complete lie. My best friend, Caro
line, did live in Ojai, the same town as the home school Charlie had contacted.

  Setting the books in the back of the Volvo, I reached in my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. Charlie answered on the third ring.

  “Hello, lassie, are you missing your old dad already?”

  “I thought you had taken a disliking to the word ‘old.’”

  “Och, good point. So what can I do for you? Everything okay there? Josh okay? Rocky?”

  “We’re fine, Charlie. I was just calling to see if now is a good time to go down to Portland with me for a couple days. How is your case going?”

  “My part in the insurance fraud case is done. I just turned in the last of my notes.” He paused for a moment. Was he hesitant to go with me? But then he said, “I do have some other things I’m working on, but I can get away for a couple days. When did you want to leave?”

  “Tomorrow would be good. Did you get any names? Contacts? Do we have an in?”

  Charlie laughed. “Did you forget your step mum moved to Hillsboro, just outside of Portland?”

  “I did forget, probably because you forgot to tell me. When did that happen? Why did she leave Bellevue?”

  “Wanted a change. Got a great job offer a few months back.”

  “So, how is she?”

  “Very well. She asked after you. I told her about the divorce. She said she’d call you but I told her it wouldn’t be necessary because we’d be popping in for a wee visit very soon.”

  “Charlie, you didn’t! We’re staying with Catherine?”

  “She’s happy to have us, darlin’.”

  “Don’t tell me she still has a thing for you, Charlie.”

  Even his laugh had a slight Scottish accent. “She’s still quite fond of me. Fortunately she realizes we’re still incompatible.”

  “And you, Charlie? You’re not getting those little heart tugs again, are you?”

  “You know me too well, lassie.”

  “That, I do, Charlie. I’ll have to keep a tight rein on you.” Then, as if there were more to the moment that followed than silence, I asked him if he was lonely. He insisted he wasn’t, and I realized I was the lonely one, not Charlie. I admitted to him that after a brief period of much-needed solitude, I was enjoying having Rocky and Josh with me. But sometimes I wished there was more. Sometimes I wished there was a man in my life. He understood. And he knew not to pry. I appreciated that about my father. It made it easy to open up to him.

  “I’ll catch one of the morning ferries out. I should be to West Seattle by noon. We can head out right away.”

  “We’ll see you then, lassie.”

  I had three more errands to take care of before leaving town. First stop was Dante’s studio.

  It was nothing more than a converted garage, similar to my pottery studio. Surely a potter as successful as Angelo Dante deserved and could afford something grander. When I looked up and saw the tiny house that realtors are prone to call charming when they really mean a tear-down, I was even sadder. But I knew better than to judge a building by its exterior. Still, I said a word of gratitude for my warm and cozy cottage that was quite large as cottages go and in excellent condition, in part due to Josh’s handyman skills.

  Emilio greeted me as I climbed out of my car. “Hello. Jenny, right?”

  “Right. How are you, Emilio?”

  “Did you come to see my dad?”

  “Both of you,” I said.

  He frowned and glanced down at his shoes as though he would find some kind of explanation for my visit there. “My dad is resting right now. What do you need?”

  “I just wanted to ask both of you if you had noticed anything strange at the co-op recently.”

  “Strange?”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard about Jasper Rosenthal’s work having been tampered with.”

  Emilio nodded. “Yeah, we heard. Really weird.”

  “Yes, it is. Have you noticed anything happening like that with any of your father’s pieces?”

  “No, nothing. At least I haven’t, and I’m the one who delivers it.”

  “Ah, so it looks as if I’m talking to the right person.”

  His face muscles seemed to relax. He was very handsome, deep dark eyes to match his dark hair. He was short, not more than five feet seven was my guess. His build was muscular, similar to Josh’s.

  “You brought in some of his pots recently. Did you notice part of Jasper’s clay model missing by any chance?”

  Emilio shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t, but then I don’t really look around much. I just take care of my dad’s pots and leave.”

  “Well, if you do notice anything peculiar in the future, will you call me?”

  “Of course, but why are you asking questions instead of Sam or Dan?”

  I handed him my card. “Unfortunately the sheriff and his deputy are not convinced anything happened. So it looks like I’m on my own.”

  He read my card and looked up at me. “A real life PI?”

  “’Fraid so.”

  “So, you’re convinced that Jasper’s work really was tampered with.”

  “I think so, even though he’s not so convinced anymore.”

  “Jasper isn’t?”

  “No, he told me not to waste my time, figures maybe he was wrong.”

  “So, why are you still—?”

  “Wasting my time? I’m not sure. I guess I figured I’d give it one last-ditch effort and check in with everyone who might have noticed something odd before I leave town for a few days.” That, and the fact that Jasper, despite his claims that he must have been mistaken, had gone ahead and made a second model of the cloud.

  Emilio nodded slowly, still staring down at my card. Apparently he was still finding it hard to believe that he was standing face to face with a real live private detective. He just hadn’t expected her to be a forty-year-old mother and ex-housewife.

  * * *

  So I hadn’t completely tossed in the towel on Jasper’s case. But I’d done pretty much all I could do at this point. Who knows, maybe it would solve itself while I was in Portland. And if not, maybe it was time to let it go. After picking up three bags of groceries—more frozen meals than my freezer was used to—two packages of Josh’s favorite chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies, plenty of juice and fresh fruit, and of course, extra dog food, I stopped in at Sasha’s, my third errand.

  “Hey, Jenny,” she and Whistler came out to greet me when I drove up.

  “Hi, Sasha. I only have a couple minutes.” I nodded toward the back of the car. “Frozen food.”

  “What? You’ve given up on cooking?”

  I filled her in on Charlie’s and my trip, gave her Charlie’s and MacGregor’s cell phone numbers in case she needed them for any reason, and asked her to check on Josh when she could.

  “You don’t think it will make him feel like a little kid?”

  “His safety comes first. Whether he likes it or not. But I will be leaving Rocky with him.”

  “Okay. I’ll try to be subtle. I’ll bring him some of my home-baked banana muffins to help ease the embarrassment.”

  “Thanks, Sasha. So, before I leave town, how’s the investigation going?”

  “Well, if I say so myself, I think I’m turning into a damned good detective.”

  “Are you now?”

  “I am. I’ve managed to do quite a bit of sleuthing. And I did talk to Uncle Kevin. There are a few ceramic artists on Waterloo but they’re all potters. A couple do some hand building but it’s very rustic.”

  “Another dead end.”

  “’Fraid so. Oh, did you find Winnie’s key?”

  “Nope. Josh and I have searched the entire house.”

  “Maybe she lost it.”

  “Possibly.” She would not have thrown or given it away, I was certain. “So tell me about your sleuthing. What have you discovered?”

  “I’ve discovered that only a few of the artists at the gallery sell anything on a regular basis. Jasper, of cours
e, Dante, and—”

  “You.”

  Her blush was not easy to decipher against her red hair. “We’re about it. Army and Navy sell some of their work on occasion but I think their teaching supports them. Or maybe they’re independently wealthy. And of course, your work is selling now that you have it on display.”

  Again I shook off the self-deprecating comment that automatically popped into my mind. “Anything else?”

  She hesitated. This was uncomfortable. Maybe I should not have put her in this position. “Sleuthing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it?”

  “Not when you’re spying on friends,” I told her.

  She scooped up Whistler for comfort. “I think Alice Mason might have something to do with it.”

  “Alice? Why?”

  “Well, she’s the one who is always at the gallery, at least most of the time. I know Ramona is there on weekends and Army a couple days a week, but Alice is there the rest of the time. Even on her days off, it seems like she’s there.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. This last weekend I stopped in both days and she was there. Said she’d just come in to help Army who was covering for Ramona on Saturday. And then on Sunday she stopped by to see if Ramona needed anything. And it seems like she’s always messing with stuff. She’s kind of anal about everyone’s display. A total control freak.”

  “That doesn’t exactly make her a prime suspect.”

  “It might if she’s moving everyone’s stuff here and there.”

  “You’re thinking she might have moved Jasper’s piece and accidentally broken it.”

  “The woman never stops. I bet her husband is thrilled she spends so much time at the gallery. So, what do you think? Am I good?”

  “You’re great. Only question is, who would have sculpted the imitation piece for her? She doesn’t sculpt.”

  “No, but she knows every artist on the island—well. She’s been a fixture at the co-op for almost thirty years. And she knows artists in Seattle and on the other islands. I’ve heard her talk about them. More like bragging actually.”

  I was starting to buy into Sasha’s theory. “Hmm, maybe you’re on to something.”

  “So, what do I do now?”

  “Keep listening. See if you can get her to talk more about these other artists. Find out if any are sculptors.”