Secrets in a Still Life Page 10

  I contemplated my approach. The conversational "I'm new to town" schtick worked fairly well with Peggy Sue. I could definitely do that again, although Crystal was younger and might see through the innocent act, so I could try a more direct approach to catch her off guard.

  Wrapped up in my thoughts, I ran right into someone in the lobby of the firehouse. Too soft to be Linc, too broad to be Crystal.

  "Still running into things, I see."

  "Chief Duncan," I said, taking a step back away from him. My good mood faltered a little.

  "I thought I told you to stay out of trouble," he said. I tried to move around him, but he blocked my path to the engine bay where the photoshoot would happen.

  "I am. I'm here to do my court-ordered community service."

  "Mike Vandenburg mentioned a green VW bug followed him last night. Know anything about that?" The chief put his ruddy hands on his hips and puffed out his chest. Well, tried to puff out his chest. Instead, his large belly mushroomed even larger. I took another step back to avoid being knocked over by his moving girth.

  "Nope. Colleen and I were out and about. We ended up at Plum Crazy." Not exactly a lie.

  "Stay away from Mike, Alex. Stay away from this case. I'm only going to warn you this one time."

  I almost said "Or what?" but caught myself just in time. He may be a dingbat, but he was still chief of police. Best not to poke the bear.

  Instead, I said, "Sure thing, Chief. Hey, did Mike happen to tell you where he was going when he saw the VW?"

  "Wednesday night is poker at the lodge. He didn't have to tell me."

  "Interesting. Now, I know I've been away for a while, but unless the lodge moved, he was heading the opposite way when we saw him," I said, adjusting the camera bag on my shoulder.

  The chief's face got a little red. He poked a pudgy finger at my chest. "No worry of yours. Keep your nose out of it. Leave the police work to the professionals."

  "Of course. Good to see you, Chief. Have a great day," I said, my voice dripping sweetness and innocence. When I stepped around him, I saw Linc leaning against the door to the engine bay with his signature smirk.

  He waited until the door shut between us and the chief, who still stood in the lobby, giving me the stink eye, before he said, "I didn't think anyone's eyes could roll so far back in their head. You know, if you keep that up, they'll stay that way."

  "Thanks, Dad," I said. I caught myself rolling my eyes again and stopped midway. "Is Crystal the only one I'll be photographing today?"

  "Officer Martinez volunteered to have hers done today. And we could do one of my shots, if you want," he offered. "The humane society will be here soon with a few furry friends. And Fang is around here somewhere."

  As if on cue, Fang, a tornado of black and white fur, barreled toward us at full speed. Linc put himself between the excited dog and my crutch-supported body. Man and dog wrestled for a moment, then Fang turned his attention to me.

  "Sit," Linc commanded. Fang complied and lifted his paw to me.

  I shook it and patted his head with my non-crutch hand. "What a good boy. Such a gentleman. Can we get some shots with him too?"

  "Maybe. We usually keep it to adoptable animals. Another advertisement for the humane society. Fang doesn't usually sit still either. Just ask Andrea. She actually had the joy of trying to pose with him when he was a guest at the animal shelter. Before I adopted him."

  "Did someone say my name?" Officer Martinez called. She made her way across the bay to where we were setup. Fang barked and ran circles around her legs. She gave him a pat on the head, and, satisfied, he disappeared into the recesses of the engine bay.

  "Hey, Andrea," Linc said, flashing her his full smile. He pronounced it "Ahn-drey-a," of course, because she wasn't exotic enough as it was.

  They embraced in a friendly hug, and I felt an inexplicable wave of jealousy. Linc could hug anyone he wanted to. Even if that anyone was a mahogany-skinned, fit, twentysomething with the sleekest, healthiest hair I had ever seen. It didn't matter that he hadn't hugged me since I'd been back. I hadn't even noticed.

  Andrea held her hand out to me, her grip firm and strong. "We didn't get to really meet the other night," Andrea said. "We really appreciate you doing this for us. The calendar is one of our biggest joint fundraisers. And to have someone of your caliber shooting it brings an added level. I saw your photos of the Puerto Rican hurricane damage. They were amazing."

  "Oh, no." I waved away the compliment, embarrassed. "I always seemed to be in the wrong place. The spread in National Geographic was much better."

  "I didn't see that one. All I know is you showed the humanity and the destruction with such grace and reverence. Without them feeling exploitative."

  "Wow. Thank you," I said, warming to her immediately. "That is probably one of the nicest things anyone has said about my photography."

  "My grandparents live there, so I have an added interest," Andrea explained.

  "Oh, I'm so sorry. How are they doing?" I asked. Having seen the destruction firsthand, I immediately felt a connection.

  "Much better, thank you for asking." She laughed to lighten the mood. "I guess doing a silly photo shoot with local first responders and some fluffy adoptees is a bit boring compared to other things you've seen."

  "Everyone has a story to tell. Some are more dramatic than others, sure, but each one is unique. That's what I like to capture. So, we'll take this more like a documentary approach instead of a posed shoot. I'm gonna set up my gear and get some settings."

  I moved toward the area where Linc indicated they usually took the photos. I took a moment to scan the space. The concrete corner was impersonal and rather dark. I'd rather shoot with the bay door open, letting in all that natural light, and with the fire trucks in the background barely in focus. It would add color and personality and context.

  I turned to tell Linc and was surprised to find him watching me.

  "You know you mumble to yourself as you work," he said.

  Great. Another notch in my Alex is Awkward belt. Out loud I said, "How important is that spot to you?" I pointed to the corner.

  He shrugged. "Not at all. That's just where we've always done it."

  "Not this year. Can we open the bay door? The middle one here. And is it possible to pull that ambulance a little farther into the garage? To leave a little more space between the door and the truck?"

  I was in the zone now. Asking for little adjustments, but not really asking. Linc moved around the space accommodating my every request with barely a question as to why. I half believed he would have found me a juggling act had I requested it. This was quite different from working with Rick who, instead of helping me, would tell me what he thought was the best angle. Basically, mansplaining my job to me.

  This was also quite different than photojournalism where I could manipulate nothing and was at the whim of the weather, the lighting, and the environment. Being able to control the setting was a refreshing change of pace.

  Linc's laughter caught my attention. I glanced toward the sound, pushed aside the fog of jealousy, and held the camera to my eye. He was completely relaxed while chatting with Andrea, one foot resting on the bumper of the fire truck, his hands folded languidly across his chest. The light put a little sparkle in his already jovial eyes. I snapped away, glad I'd opted for my telephoto lens so I could zoom in a little without getting too close.

  I backed up to get Andrea in the shot too. Their contrasting uniforms and Fang jumping around their feet might be the perfect calendar cover. Linc saw my movement and turned his sculpted face toward me. I snapped a few more shots before his expression changed from amusement to trepidation.

  "What are you doing?" he asked.

  "Testing the light and the settings." Not a complete lie. Untrusting, he narrowed his eyes.

  A cacophony of barking drew his attention away from me and toward the open bay door. A frazzled woman holding three excited dogs and a cat carrier tumbled through the door. Linc
rushed to help her with Fang at his heels.

  "Oh, thank you, Linc. I was only going to bring Louie"—she gestured to the golden retriever—"but these two were giving me the serious puppy dog eyes when I snapped Louie into his harness. I couldn't leave them."

  "These two" referred to a small fluff ball and a medium-sized teddy bear. I bent to get some candid shots of the dogs playing and loving on Linc. He laughed and roughhoused with them a little.

  "Which one do you like, Andrea?" Linc asked. "You can do your shoot first. I'm sure you have duties to get back to at the police station."

  She pointed at the retriever, the calmest of the three. "Where do you want us?" she asked me.

  "In this general area. Try to stay on the edge of the shadow line." Andrea moved into position and stood there stiffly holding Louie's leash. I put the camera to my eye and waited for a moment. Andrea stood stock still and unmoving with Louie sitting dutifully at her feet. I lowered my camera.

  "Andrea. Act natural. Interact with Louie. You can bend down to pet him if you want," I suggested. I wasn't used to directing people. And Andrea was clearly not used to being photographed. Which was a shame because she had amazing bone structure.

  After a few more awkward moments, I dropped my camera again. "Shoot. I think I need a different lens. Why don't you and Louie get acquainted while I change it out."

  I made a show of hobbling slowly over to my camera bag. I didn't need to change my lens, but I wanted to give Andrea some time to loosen up. And possibly sneak some shots while she didn't think the camera was on her. Effective—yes. Sneaky—double yes. But it got results. I'd made my career by being discreet and invisible. And a bit of a creeper. Minimal interaction was why I'd chosen photojournalism.

  I fiddled with my camera bag as I watched Andrea out of the corner of my eye. Linc engaged her in conversation again. I admired that about him—how he could make anyone feel comfortable. Small talk, a personal nemesis of mine, seemed to come so naturally to him. Andrea looked looser already. She bent down to give Louie a rub behind the ears. I quickly snapped a bunch of pictures, then moved over a little to get a better angle.

  When Andrea noticed me, she immediately stiffened. I said quickly, "Perfect. Scratch his head again. Tell him a deep, dark secret you wouldn't want your mom to find out."

  Andrea laughed, a blush rising on her cheeks. "The dog?"

  "He's the perfect secret keeper," I said. I crouched down to shoot them straight on as Andrea laughed into the dog's silky fur. The moment was so sweet, I barely noticed the pressure on my ankle. Everything else faded away as I focused on the scene through the viewfinder. On autopilot, I adjusted the settings to accommodate the changing light. I shot some with the fire trucks in focus behind the duo and some without. I had way more options than I needed for a simple calendar, but like that day in the woods, I felt back in the zone. Back in my comfort zone. Dare I say it, back in myself.

  "I think we got it," I said, checking the back of the camera to be sure I got some with Andrea's eyes open.

  "Wait? That's it?" Andrea asked. "No sitting still and trying to get the dog to look at the camera?"

  "That's not really my style," I said slowly. Imposter syndrome set in once again. Was I getting this all wrong? Did they want boring, posed shoots?

  "Okay. That was actually fun," Andrea said. She looked sternly at Louie. "Don't go telling my secret now." Louie licked her hand.

  "Your turn, Linc," I said.

  "Didn't you get enough earlier?" he teased.

  "Practice shots," I reminded him. "None with the animals. They're probably throwaways anyway," I lied. No picture of Linc would be a throwaway unless it was completely out of focus. But I'd only admit that sentiment to Louie.

  Linc grabbed the two other dogs. "Where do you want me?"

  "Uh..." I stuttered. That was a loaded question if I ever heard one.

  Chapter 16

  I fiddled with my camera to give myself a moment of recomposure and then cleared my throat. "These two seem to have a ton of energy. Why don't you start against the far wall and walk them toward me?"

  He nodded and led the dogs to the other end of the engine bay. I got a few action shots and gave him a thumbs-up. He bent down to pick up the small fluff ball. The juxtaposition of the tiny dog in his large arms had me quickly taking some more shots. The little dog, as if on cue, stuck out its tiny, pink tongue and lapped at Linc's nose. He squinched up his nose and laughed. And I knew I had my shot.

  "Perfect," I said, smiling at the back of my camera.

  A clack-clack-clacking of heels accompanied by a huff announced the presence of someone new. Whatever I expected Crystal to look like, it wasn't this. She was tall—like, really tall—like taller than Lincoln tall. Made even taller with her three-inch heels. She made me feel like a munchkin from Wizard of Oz.

  She was also—I struggled to put it into words—not pudgy or even fat, just thick. She was the picture beside “big-boned” in the dictionary. And she wore it well. She exuded confidence with a touch of aloofness. Maybe because she literally had to look down her nose at everyone.

  She didn't wear firefighter gear, instead sported a tight-fitting, cheetah-print tube dress. It clung to all her very womanly curves. Her heels were a matching print. I had seen outfits like this in the clubs of New York—heck, I'd worn outfits like this when my hips and I were in our early twenties—but this was Piney Ridge. A firehouse in Piney Ridge in the middle of the morning, to be exact. Seemed a bit out of place.

  "Hi," I said, holding out my hand. "I'm Alex Lightwood, the photographer."

  Crystal squeezed my fingers limply in her own, gave me a dismissive look, then focused her full attention toward Linc.

  "I don't have a ton of time," Crystal said. "I have an appointment. Where do you want me to sit?"

  "I actually have a more organic approach," I tried to explain.

  One derisive look from Crystal had me faltering. She looked at Linc for help as if to say "Where did you dig her up?"

  As if reading her mind, Linc handily brought over a chair. Crystal plopped herself in it. She held her hands out. I wasn't sure what that meant. Did she want a hug?

  "The cat?" Crystal said impatiently. The frazzled humane society worker gently placed a feline in Crystal's lap. With this warm welcome, I'd be lucky to get any information pertaining to Missy out of her.

  I took a page from Crystal's book and ignored her. I talked to Linc instead.

  "So, you really think Mike has been acting suspiciously, Linc?" I asked as though we had been in the middle of a conversation. I gave him a pleading look from behind my camera, hoping he’d just go with it.

  "Oh, uh, totally. Like I was saying"—Linc cleared his throat but played along—"Mike hasn't even called to ask about the autopsy yet. What kind of grieving husband wouldn't be banging down the police station door demanding information." I could've hugged him.

  "Weird."

  Through the viewfinder, I saw Crystal shift in her seat. Her fake smile—the one she put on when the camera started clicking—faltered a little.

  I pressed on. "The first suspect is always the husband."

  Crystal huffed. "That's ridiculous," she mumbled.

  I pretended not to hear. "Good thing he's protected by being acting mayor. Otherwise, Chief Duncan would probably already have him in custody."

  "Don't be stupid," Crystal huffed.

  "Did you say something?" I asked, lowering the camera.

  Crystal scowled at me. "Mike didn't do it. He's too soft."

  "You think? I don't know. People have snapped before. I heard he cheated on Missy. Sounds like a motive to me."

  "Just because he wanted a break from his demanding, annoying wife doesn't make him a murderer." Crystal scowled.

  "Oh." Linc snapped his fingers like he just thought of something. "Maybe his mistress did it? Maybe she got tired of sharing."

  I shot him a warning look when Crystal narrowed her eyes at him. She'd gone completely still e
xcept for her chest rising and falling with each labored breath. We were definitely getting to her. I just didn't want to press her too far.

  "I happen to be close friends with Mike's mistress," Crystal said, lifting her chin in defiance. "And not only is she one of the sweetest people I've ever met, but during the afternoon of the murder, she and Mike were together at her house. Nowhere near the reservoir."

  I tried not to snort at her description of her "friend" as the "sweetest person" she knew.

  Crystal handed the cat back and stood up. Guess we were done with the shoot. Linc had derailed it with the mistress comment. For the record, Mr. We'll Just Have a Conversation pushed it too far. Not me.

  "If you ask me," Crystal said, as she brushed cat hair off her dress, "the police should be looking closer at who Missy was cheating with."

  "Wait. Missy cheated too?" I feigned surprise. I was getting good at that, in my opinion.

  "Oh yeah. Big time. With someone right here in the firehouse, right, Linc?"

  I felt the color drain from my face. Was Missy cheating on Mike with Linc? Was that why Linc got so upset about us snooping in his neighborhood? Because all his neighbors knew about his affair with Missy?

  "What are you talking about, Crystal?" Linc asked carefully. I held my breath for the reply.

  "I mean, that's why Alex has to do the photo shoot this year, right? Because Becky caught Missy and her husband together?" Crystal said.

  I breathed a loud sigh of relief. Not Linc. He gave me a weird look, then said, "Becky's husband was cheating with Missy? I had no idea."

  "Yup." Crystal's face broke into a smug smile. What was it with people being the first to hand out gossip around here? It was like verbal currency or something.

  "But that was months ago. Why would it trigger a reaction now?" Linc asked.

  Crystal shrugged. "There are plenty of people who aren't losing sleep over Missy Vandenburg being dead." And with that statement, she shimmied her skirt down her thighs and stalked out.

  Lincoln stood beside me to watch Crystal leave. "If your eyebrows go any higher, they're going to blend right into your hairline," he whispered.