A Brush with Death: A Penny Brannigan Mystery - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,44
demand. So someone who had access to the paintings might have killed her, and then hoped the publicity around her death would drive the value of the work up. That person might have hidden the paintings somewhere, and when the time is right, they’ll be ‘discovered.’ However, the problem with that theory is that if they do surface, the paintings are obviously the property of the Jones brothers, so it’s difficult to see how someone else could profit from that scenario.
“So I think something happened to them, but I don’t know what, yet. But I think the missing paintings are telling us that Alys’s death was no accident. I think she was murdered, and whoever killed her has the paintings. Or had them.”
The rector cleared his throat and looked at his hands, Bronwyn continued to stroke the sleeping Robbie on her lap, and Alywnne looked at Victoria, who looked at Penny.
The silence hung heavily over them as each pondered what Penny had said.
“I called the art college this week to see if anyone there knew anything about these three characters—Millicent, Cynthia, and Andrew—but the young woman I spoke to had never heard of them, didn’t have a clue what I was talking about, and to be honest, I don’t think she cared very much. Why should she? Long before her time.”
Penny’s shoulders sagged and she ran her fingers desperately through her hair, leaving one side standing up wildly.
“So I’m wondering if anyone has any suggestions on what our next steps should be. We’ve got to find out more about these three.”
Victoria got up from her chair, took a biscuit off the table, and returned to her place. She took a bite and then delicately picked a few crumbs off her skirt.
“Well, what about this then?” suggested the rector. “Everybody writes down the names of these three people we’re looking for, and we’ll all go home and put on our thinking caps. If anyone comes up with something, ring Penny or bring it to the meeting next week.”
He peered at her. “There will be a meeting next week, won’t there?”
He smiled at everyone, then nodded encouragingly.
“Well, then,” he said to Bronwyn, “if there’s nothing else, shall we be on our way?”
Bronwyn set Robbie on the floor, clipped on his lead, and after saying their good-byes, they made their way to the front door, where Alwynne and Penny joined them. Penny walked with them down the short path that led to the street. The outside light shone on Robbie’s blond fur, and Penny smiled at the sight of his sturdy back legs and wagging tail as he set off to lead the little party safely home.
She waved good-bye, then turned and walked back to the cottage, stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and leaned on it. Victoria walked toward her across the sitting room.
“Gareth just rang. I said you were out—well, you were, sort of. Said I didn’t think you’d be very long. And you weren’t.”
Penny winced.
“Sorry! But really, Penny, I think you owe it to him to talk to him. He sounded rather low.”
“Well good. Serves him right. I’ve been feeling a bit down myself over the last few days, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Penny replied.
“Look, I’d hoped we could get caught up on the building tonight, but I think I’m going to go now. I’ll see you tomorrow and we can talk then. How are you getting on with Eirlys, by the way? The clients really seem to like her. We’re almost fully booked, and we’ll soon have to set up another table.”
“She is wonderful!” Penny agreed. “You should have seen her charming Mrs. Lloyd this week. Mrs. Lloyd wanted me to do her nails but kept glancing over at Eirlys. I think she’ll be asking for her in a week or two. I’m so glad I thought of getting Eirlys in.”
“Yes, very clever of you.” Victoria grinned. “Anyway, Gareth said he’d ring back, so I’m going to leave you to it. Whatever you decide to do, I’m sure it’ll be for the best. At least at our age we know how to deal with these situations.”
Penny’s eyes clouded. “What would you do if you were me?”
“I’d listen to what he has to say. I think he’s a genuine, sincere man who cares about you. I think you’re afraid of being hurt and of being vulnerable. But you already are involved, anyway, so it’s too late.”
She gave an apologetic shrug. “God, I almost wish I’d never mentioned it