Art's Blood by Vicki Lane Page A

you to the right place. I sense that Elizabeth will be good for you— did you know she’s a nurturer?— her aura is a beautiful green.”
    Ben smirked at Elizabeth and whispered, “That reminds me, Kyra asked me to call Phillip and tell him about the fire. She asked him if he could come back out. He said he was free late this afternoon— he wanted to speak to you but I told him you were in the garden. I also told him I knew you’d want him to stay for dinner this time— being as you’re such a nurturer.”
    Elizabeth began a retort but stopped, intrigued by the turn the conversation on the porch seemed to have taken. “…blackmail!” Willow was saying. “Aidan told me that he thought that Boz knew something damaging about someone and that this someone would pay anything, do anything to keep it quiet. Had you heard this?”
    Kyra’s answer was barely audible but it seemed to be negative and Willow continued. “Anyway, my lawyer’s looking into it. And it would be good for you to share this knowledge with the investigator you were telling me about— the more people working on this, the better.”
    Curiouser and curiouser, thought Elizabeth, intrigued by the idea of another suspect in Boz’s murder, and noting, yet again, how Willow’s slight accent seemed to come and go. The last of the tomatoes were washed and laid on dishtowels to dry when Kyra and Willow returned to the kitchen. Willow reached up to envelop Elizabeth in a patchouli-scented hug. “Thank you, Elizabeth, for taking care of our Kyra. This is exactly the place she needs to be at this time. She’s a very special girl— to me, as well as to my Aidan.”
    She released Elizabeth, stepped back, and once again brought her palms together. “Namaste to you all and Spirit’s blessing and protection on this sacred ground.” A beatific smile spread across her face. “Now I must return to Asheville. I have a class in etheric healing this afternoon, so I will say farewell. I shall walk slowly back down to my car, feeling Mother Earth all around me and making affirmations for Aidan’s speedy release. Namaste.”
    And she was gone.

    * * *
    By noon the heat was fierce. Elizabeth put away her weed-eater and wearily sought the porch’s inviting shade. She paused on the top step to enjoy the sight of the neatly trimmed herb garden and flower beds and the intoxicating smell of fresh-cut grass drying in the August sun. Beautiful, even if it would have to be done again in two weeks. She hung her straw hat on the back of a porch rocker, then took off her sweat-soaked purple bandana and draped it over the railing to dry. Sinking gratefully into one of the rockers, she loosened her boot laces and pulled off the filthy, grass-covered lumps that had lost all resemblance to the sporty hiking boots they once had been. She leaned back in her chair, savoring the absence of noise and vibration. The weed-eating had taken several hours and she was ready for a rest.
    Ben and Kyra had left shortly after Willow’s departure. Kyra had to go to the sheriff’s office to make a statement, and she desperately needed to do some shopping, having brought only a single change of clothes to Elizabeth’s house. “I’ll take her into Ransom and on into Asheville, Aunt E,” Ben had said. “There’s some stuff I need to get and I don’t think she should be on her own, not till we find out more about the fire.” They had headed down the hill, Ben looming protectively over Kyra.
    Elizabeth had watched them go, bemused. “Smitten,” she murmured, smiling at her nephew’s back as he shepherded his charge down the road. But I don’t know…Kyra seems nice enough but she’s got a lot of baggage…and I always pictured Ben pairing up with some granola-Birkenstock type— someone who’d be into farming like he is. Certainly not an artist of the Goth or whatever-it-is persuasion.
    She had mulled over this conundrum as she worked and had come to the conclusion that it was none of