Poison and Paint Read online

  “How we left things?” Sophia snorted. “You were my boyfriend and—” Sophia cut herself off because she needed to end this. “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t moved on.”

  “I hope you’re happy now.”

  Amy took her glass from his hand. “She said she’s moved on.”

  “Even if you’re over it, what I did was a jerk move. I should have ended things with you before me and Nikki hooked up.”

  “You mean before you two fell and tore the stall door off its hinges at prom?” Sophia stood, empty glass in her hand. “Before everyone saw you with your pants around—”

  A thud cut her off. The nearest couple had knocked over an easel while scooting away from her. The redheaded man stared at her while he picked up the easel he and his girlfriend had knocked over. Everyone watched her and Tyler to see what would happen next.

  She had made a scene. Her cheeks burned as shame replaced her anger. High school was over, Tyler and Nikki had been stoned, and prom wasn’t anyone’s fault. When she started feeling serious about him, the curse ruined things. That was all. “I’m sorry. I moved on.”

  He plucked the empty glass from Sophia’s hand. “I guess an extra glass is the least I owe you.”

  Front row was looking even worse now.

  2

  “I'll just go.” Sophia rose and grabbed her purse. “Tonight’s going to be awkward.”

  Amy caught her hand. “So what? Just ignore him. He apologized and we can forget about them.”

  “And Nikki?” Sophia asked.

  Nikki answered, even though she’d been halfway across the room. She approached Sophia. “I’ll treat you like any other student. Stay. Paint. Drink wine.”

  “You’re sure it’s okay?” Sophia hesitated, holding her bag.

  “I’m sorry about prom. Last I’ll say of it.” Nikki handed Sophia a palette. “I gave you pink for frosting and teal for the background. Does that work?”

  “Thanks.” Sophia set her things down beside her canvas.

  Nikki handed palettes to Lemon and Amy. “Purple frosting, pink background. And for the wine painter”—she turned to Amy—“wine red frosting with blue. I’ve got a lot of white in there for you to lighten them up. I prefer pastels for the cupcake painting, but I’ve seen your work.”

  Nikki handed out the remaining palettes, then stood in front of the giant canvas. Close enough that Sophia could touch her. “Are you ready to get started? My lovely assistant Tyler will continue serving wine as long as you keep asking.” She winked at her own joke, then set her glass on the table next to Shannon. “But I understand some of you will need to drive later.”

  “That’s what Rocking Rideshare is for,” a woman shouted.

  “Right she is.” Nikki picked up a big, flat brush and held it up for everyone to see. “We’re going to start with the background. I’m going to imagine a line about a third of the way from the bottom of my canvas. If you need a visual line, wet your brush before dipping it in the white paint. You’ll want to use the thin direction on your brush, like so.”

  Sophia copied Nikki’s movements.

  “We just don’t want to see you alone, not when Detective Schmidt wants to be with you for Valentine’s Day.” Amy watched as Sophia painted the line but made no move towards her own canvas. Her friend didn’t need a class like this, but it was fun to do something together. Even if the instructor was Nikki.

  “Next we’re going to load our flat brush with the background color and white.” Nikki kept explaining and demonstrating how to load the paint brush.

  “I already told you why we can’t,” Sophia whispered.

  Nikki finished her explanation with an eye on Sophia.

  Feeling scrutinized, Sophia dipped her brush in the paint and swirled it around the top half of her canvas. The palette was like a frosting bowl. Even though the brush wasn’t the same as a piping bag, Sophia could get used to painting.

  “Detective?” Nikki’s eyebrows rose.

  “It’s Ben now.” Lemon chewed her lip as she focused on the painting. “Amy just didn’t get the memo.”

  “Hey!” Sophia laughed.

  “That’s right, I forgot.” Amy grinned. “Ben likes running. Ben likes craft beer. Ben likes—”

  “You should take him to Shannon’s.” Nikki grinned.

  “Did I hear my name?” Shannon crinkled her nose in disgust when her eyes landed on Sophia.

  “Eric would love talking beer and guns with him.” Nikki seemed not to notice. “I was telling her to go to your brewery since her man likes craft beer.”

  “He’s not my man,” Sophia protested.

  “Right.” Lemon’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “Whatever.” Nikki tossed her head, making her wavy hair bounce. “I need to check on the other newbie artists.”

  “He wants to be yours,” Amy said.

  Both Pam and Shannon watched them, ignoring their own canvases.

  “I want that, too. I just have to…” Sophia gestured with her paint brush, dripping teal paint onto the floor. Whoops.

  “Then talk to Rosemary,” Lemon said.

  Sophia balked. She’d only recently found out that her rival was both her cousin and her only chance at undoing the curse on her family.

  “Girl, what are you waiting for?” Lemon frowned.

  “It’s not that easy.” Sophia glanced at the eavesdroppers, who turned their eyes back to their own paintings.

  “Sure it is.” Lemon chewed the end of her brush. “I’m seeing Richard for Valentine’s Day.”

  “What happened to Charlie?” Amy asked. “The one with that annoying dog.”

  “He wasn’t Mr. Right. But you gotta try to find out.” Lemon turned from her painting and met Sophia’s eyes. “This is your happiness we’re talking about.”

  “Rosemary will never help.” Sophia hung her head.

  “You need to catch that fly with honey, not vinegar.” At Sophia’s blank look, Lemon continued. “As much as I despise Rosemary, you might gotta bribe the girl. Give her a recipe of your mama’s that she never stole.”

  “When she’s already stealing my customers?”

  “Your happiness or your bakery?” Amy frowned. “I know which choice I’d make.”

  Sophia said, “You and Joel almost—”

  “Almost is the key word,” Amy said. "We’re doing the counseling thing, but things are good now. Relationships take work.”

  “You’ve got to do something. You told me yourself that—” Lemon leaned closer to Sophia, dropping her voice. “That curses are dangerous and that they get worse over time.”

  “Quiet.” Sophia frowned.

  Pam and Shannon concentrated way more on their paintings than swirling a brush around could take. Had they heard about the curse? They’d think she and Lemon were nut jobs.

  Sophia frowned. “It’s not just getting Rosemary to help me.”

  The door jingled open, and cold air blew into the studio. A tall, young couple walked in. Sophia couldn’t tell if they were in high school or their early twenties. There weren’t any canvases left open for them.

  “You and the detective would be so cute together.” Amy nibbled her lip, and her squirrel features flickered across her face. “The two of you belong together. I can see it.”

  “Oh, sugar,” Lemon said, her eyes fixed on the couple.

  “This isn’t the place.” Sophia lowered her voice. “These things are dangerous. And I don’t have anyone to learn from or to ask about it.”

  “You have us,” Amy said.

  “And you are awesome, but neither of you are—”

  “What do you mean, class started already?” the guy shouted.

  The young woman pulled on her date’s arm, trying to get him to leave. She stood a good hand-span taller than Nikki, but the top of her head only reached her date’s shoulder.

  Nikki shook her head, curls bouncing.

  “I booked the cats in the tree class for 6pm.”

  “That w
as yesterday. I had a couple no-shows.”

  “We’re not no-shows. Today’s the seventh, right? I booked tonight because—”

  “Let’s just go,” the girl said. She tugged on his arm again, blushing. “We’ll do something else.”

  “No, I booked it for tonight.” The tall guy folded his arms across his chest.

  “I can’t help you. Your reservation was for last night.” Nikki punctuated the words with a wave of her hands.

  Tyler joined the group. “Do you have your receipt email? I’m sure that will clear things up.” He turned to Nikki. “You’re doing the cats again before next Tuesday, right?”

  “I am not rescheduling them.” Nikki put her hands on her hips. “If he messed up the date, he—”

  “At least look at his email receipt,” Tyler said. “See what happened.”

  “What happened was your website said cats on Tuesday.” He loomed over Nikki.

  “I had a room full of people yesterday that says otherwise. And I don’t reschedule or offer refunds when someone remembers the date wrong.” She leaned into Tyler and whispered something in his ear.

  “I didn’t remember the date wrong!” the guy shouted. “I know I booked our anniversary!”

  “I’ll see if we can get you rescheduled.” Tyler took out his own phone.

  Nikki pushed Tyler’s phone down. “I don’t do free classes. Not with another trip coming up.”

  Tyler shook his head. “I thought your money situation was—”

  “Just fine. Don’t worry about it.” Nikki turned to the angry guy. “Get out. Before I call the cops.”

  Wow. Nikki could have handled that a lot better. What had happened to the easy-going painter who’d promised to show Sophia how to copy anything?

  The girlfriend tugged her angry boyfriend outside.

  Tyler walked back to the back room, shaking his head.

  The girls had circled back to their plans for Valentine’s Day, when the door jingled again, bringing cold air into the room. Had the couple come back to apologize?

  Sophia kept painting. Not her business.

  Lemon grabbed Sophia and pointed at the entrance.

  Detective Herbert Jaeger stood hands on hips, surveying the art studio. The overhead lights shone on his scalp. The old jerk looked more menacing than the last time she had seen him. The wrinkles marking his permanent scowl had etched themselves deeper into his face.

  He glared at Sophia, sending a chill down her spine. As the detective in charge of her mother’s murder, he couldn’t have been more cruel. It was like he’d looked for any excuse to blame her. If she hadn’t been at work in Los Angeles when her mother was murdered, she could have sworn he would have arrested her. As it was, Mama had been dead for two years and no one knew who had killed her.

  “What’s he doing here?” Sophia hissed.

  Detective Jaeger stalked forward, making the hair bristle along the back of her neck.

  Sophia took a deep breath to steady herself and pulled back on all her powers. She’d done nothing to warrant his attention.

  Nikki didn’t seem to notice him. She twirled her paintbrush over another student’s canvas.

  “Who is that?” Amy asked.

  Jaeger stopped next to Nikki, towering over her.

  The artist looked up at him and tucked the brush into a pocket on her apron. “Can I help you, detective?”

  “You’ll want to do this outside.” Jaeger pitched his voice low, but in the large open room it carried all the same.

  He glanced at Sophia and Amy. “Furries think they can go everywhere now.”

  Speechless, Sophia watched him lead Nikki outside.

  “He did not just say that,” Amy squeaked.

  “How does he know?” Sophia asked. And what did he have against therians? Had that been the reason he wanted to pin Mama’s murder on her?

  Amy shrugged.

  The door shut behind Nikki and Jaeger, leaving the class stunned.

  “What did he say?” Lemon asked.

  “Later.” Not when they were in a public place. Though the rest of the class seemed focused on Nikki and Jaeger that Sophia doubted anyone was paying attention to her and Lemon, but she didn’t want to talk about magic around outsiders.

  Lemon needed to learn discretion.

  Outside, Nikki wrapped her arms around herself, not dressed for the February evening.

  Jaeger said something, and Sophia couldn’t tell if he was scowling worse or if that was just his normal face.

  What were they saying?

  A small smile played across Sophia’s lips. She had therian magic for that.

  The dry scent of flour lingered from her day at Mama Ginger’s. Amy’s squirrel scent drove her inner fox into high gear. Sophia bit her tongue. She did not want to eat her friend.

  Lemon’s sweet tea contrasted with the bitter scent of alcohol, followed by all the earthy, fruity, and other notes in the wine. And the plastic odor of the paint.

  Beyond that a fishy and salty smell. That one must be coming from Pam, since her pet store specialized in fish.

  The sounds of the room snapped into focus. People breathing. The wet crunch of someone chewing their nails. Faint whispers became clear as day.

  But, even with therian hearing, Sophia wasn’t catching anything from outside.

  Nikki’s hair flopped around. She had to be talking, but Sophia couldn’t see her face.

  After a while, Jaeger walked off. Nikki pushed open the door to come back inside.

  Tyler put a hand on her arm, stopping her in the doorway. “Why are the cops investigating you?”

  “I don’t know.” Nikki jerked her arm free.

  “I’m not dating a criminal, am I?” Tyler asked, louder.

  Nikki stomped to the front of the room.

  Tyler stared at her back before turning away and disappearing through the doors into the back.

  Sophia bit back a smile. She was in her thirties and still felt happy Nikki and Tyler were fighting. What was wrong with her?

  “I need a drink.” Nikki grabbed the wine from the front table and threw it into her mouth. She pressed her lips together and rubbed at her mouth. Looking flushed, she wobbled onto her stool and knocked the giant canvas over, spilling Shannon and Pam’s wine all over.

  That was the first glass Sophia had seen Nikki drink. What was wrong with her?

  “Give me a minute.” Nikki stumbled to the bathroom.

  “Are you okay?” Shannon asked.

  But Nikki slammed the door.

  Shannon hurried to the bathroom door, but it was locked.

  “Nikki?” Pam called out to the locked door. “What’s going on?”

  “Panic attack?” Lemon whispered to Sophia and Amy.

  Amy shrugged. “Drugs?”

  The class grew restless. People wondered what was going on. A few people whispered, “Unprofessional.” Others said things like, “I hope she’s all right.”

  Twenty, then thirty minutes passed, and Nikki remained in the bathroom.

  Pam pounded on the door. “Nikki?”

  No answer.

  Standing near the bathroom door, Shannon ran a hand over her face. “Can someone get the door open?”

  The two men in the class hurried to the bathroom door, leaving their dates in the back of the room. The redhead, who knocked over the easel, kicked the door. But the door didn’t move.

  “Maybe Tyler has a key.” Sophia hurried to the double doors, pushing them open and calling out to Tyler.

  Massive shelving units, full of painting supplies, took up two walls. Wine bottles stacked halfway to the ceiling on the third wall. And the wall nearest the bathroom held wine glasses hung upside down from neat racks and a sink and industrial dishwasher. Beside that stood a small file cabinet with a laptop on top. A small desk sat in the middle of the room, with Nikki’s purse on top.

  But no Tyler. A small door led to the outside.

  “Tyler?” Sophia called as she opened the door.
>
  “What?” he snarled, yanking the door out of her hand. He shoved a shiny cylinder in his pocket.

  What the heck was that? Sophia frowned, then stammered, “Nikki’s not coming out of the bathroom.”

  “So?” he snapped.

  Someone else should have asked him, she realized now, but she was the one who’d come in here. “Can you—do you have a key?”

  “What?” Tyler asked, his eyes bloodshot. Had that thing in his hand been a vape pen? Was he getting high?

  “Nikki…” Sophia shook her head and tried again. She couldn’t explain the horrible feeling in her stomach. “We need the key to the bathroom. Do you have it?”

  “In the desk.” Tyler moved toward the desk as if in slow motion. He was high. Sophia was sure of it.

  A thud echoed from the studio, someone must have kicked the door again. She yanked open the drawer and tossed aside paint brushes, pencils, a stapler, all kinds of random things. When her hand closed on the key ring, she raced back to the bathroom. Tyler trailed behind her.

  Another kick, and the knob broke. The door opened a couple inches, then thudded to a stop. Something blocked it.

  “It’s Nikki.”

  She lay curled on her side in front of the door. The door had to have hit her, but she hadn’t grunted or made a sound.

  Amy kneeled beside her. “No pulse.”

  “Oh no,” Sophia whimpered.

  Amy put her hands on the center of Nikki’s chest and started chest compressions. Under her breath, Amy sang “Staying Alive” by the Bee Gees.

  Sophia dialed 911.

  The phone remained silent for what seemed like forever, not even ringing. “Please go through,” Sophia whispered.

  Phone to her ear, Sophia walked outside. In the cold, she stared out at the street. She didn’t—couldn’t—look back at the scene inside. She wrapped her free arm around herself.

  This wasn’t a murder, she told herself, waiting for the call to go through. It wasn’t. Maybe Nikki was on drugs. Maybe she’d had a heart attack. Something—anything—other than another murder.

  Finally, the call went through. It rang once, then the 911 operator answered. “911. What is your emergency?”

  3