Tell Me True (Call Me Cat Trilogy #3)(19)

"One of Ash's favorite works of art is being auctioned today. I have to get it for him."

We sat near the back and half-listened as the auctioneer went through his rapid introduction and began with the first piece, a little-known early Monet painting.

I knew the art I wanted wouldn't be up until the end, so I tuned out the nearly unintelligible words and turned to Bridgette. "We've set the wedding date for this weekend," I said.

Her eyes widened. "But that's so soon. What about Jon? What about his killer?"

"They haven't found the killer and we don't have all the answers, but life has to go on. We're still searching, trying to figure out what happened. Ash has his P.I. hunting for clues. We haven't given up, but we can't put our happiness on hold forever while we wait. We're going to have a small ceremony in a garden and then the reception will be later that day on the Davenport yacht."

A tear glistened in her eye but she wiped it away. "He was really amazing you know. Jon, he… there was a lot about him people didn't know, but he was kind of extraordinary."

I half-listened to the auctioneer introduce the next piece, a Van Gogh. Both Van Gogh and Monet weren't fully appreciated in their time. It wasn't until they died that their art was worth anything. I wondered how much we could really value anyone or anything until we'd lost it. Was Jon really that great and we just didn't see it? Or did he only seem that amazing because he was gone, and the bad parts faded under the weight of the grief over his loss?

My breath caught at the beauty of the next painting, one of El Greco’s later works, but I held my hand, waiting for the painting I knew Ash would love the most. When it came up, I raised my paddle nervously, having never done an auction before. Someone on the other side of the room outbid me, and I raised again, my heart beating in my chest so hard I swore everyone could hear it. A third person raised their paddle and I scowled at their backs wondering how high I should go before I gave up. In the end, only I and a woman to the right were left. She never hesitated to outbid me and sweat trickled down my back as I thought about how much money I was offering and what I could have done with that money.

I was about to give up when the woman hesitated, her head tilted to the side, and finally she shook her head and kept her paddle down. It took me a moment to figure out what happened.

Bridgette grinned. "You won, silly! You got the paining. It's kind of morbid, though, isn't it?"

"It's a portrait of Saint Francis meditating."

The Davenports aren't religious," she said.

"I know, but something about the painting inspires him in some way."

She shrugged and stood. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"In a minute. I want to see what they saved for last."

She sighed and sat.

The door banged open, and Molly burst into the room and rushed over to us, sitting in the chair next to Bridgette. I held my breath, knowing this would not end well.

"Please don't be mad," she said, out of breath. "I just had to talk to you and you wouldn't take any of my calls."

I looked at Bridgette, surprised, but Bridgette just scowled at the pregnant woman. I could see her thoughts etched on her face, angry thoughts about this woman who had crashed Jon's funeral and claimed to be carrying his baby.

"I just want to know about him. About Jon. I want to know stories I can tell our child." She rubbed her stomach. Bridgette, eyes narrowed, hissed and slapped Molly.

The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at us. Bridgette stood and shoved Molly out of her seat. "How dare you come here, you whore! Get out of my face. Get out of my life. That is not Jon's child, and you are a lying bitch!"

Her words stunned me. Bridgette didn't have an unkind bone in her body and I'd never heard her talk to anyone like this. Molly held her red cheek, tears dripping down her face. "I'm not the liar here. He's the father of the baby, and you know it!"

I tried to pull Bridgette away, but I was too late. She raised her hand and smacked Molly in the face, then looked at her hand in shock, as if she couldn't believe what she'd actually done. Frankly, neither could I.

She hadn't slapped her hard, but Molly stumbled backwards, tripping and falling to the ground.

As if on cue, the police showed up and arrested Bridgette for assault.





Chapter Sixteen


Cock Contest


ONE MONTH AGO


WHEN THE SUMMER carnival came to town, it became the event of the season, at least for me. I loved carnivals and remembered going with my parents and getting sick on cotton candy and deep fried everything.

We waited until later in the day when the temperature would be cooler and the nighttime glow of carnival lights would be most dramatic. It smelled and looked and felt just like I remembered. It was like going back in time. These were probably the same rides I had been on as a child.

I dragged Ash to the Ferris Wheel and giggled like a child as it took us higher and higher. "I love the smell, you know?" I said. "All the food and candy and even the faint hint of oil from the rides and the dust from the old tents, all of it makes me nostalgic."

Ash kissed me as we reached the top, a slow kiss that made my heart beat faster. I cuddled in his arms as we enjoyed the view, the cool summer night air caressing my face as the wind blew past us.