Chapters (58)
- Cover
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Forty-three
- Forty-four
- Forty-five
- Forty-six
- Forty-seven
- Forty-eight
- Forty-nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-one
- Acknowledgements
- An Eastbourne Murder Mystery
- Canelo Crime
- About the Author
- Also by Sheila Bugler
As she walked away, Claire followed her. ‘You’ll find the other artists’ details there to. Do take a look, some of them are really good. If you see anything you like, I’m sure you could arrange to visit more than one studio on Saturday.’
Promising she’d take a look, although she had no intention of doing so, Dee said goodbye and left before Claire talked her into calling some of the other artists as well.
Outside the gallery, she phoned Emer.
‘Hey,’ she said, when she got Emer’s voicemail. ‘It’s me – Dee. I’m in London today and was hoping you might be free for a quick coffee. Call me back if you can.’
She hung up, disappointed. She’d sent Emer a text yesterday evening, telling her she’d be in London today and asking if they could meet up. So far, Emer hadn’t replied. She thought about hanging around London for a few hours and then trying her cousin again. But then she remembered what Emer had told her the last time they’d spoken. She’d mentioned her stress at doing a job she’d never done before, and how hard she was working to prove herself. The last thing she needed was pressure from Dee to leave work for a coffee.
Maybe it was for the best, Dee told herself, putting her phone away. She had work to do too, and it wouldn’t get done while she was loitering in London waiting for her cousin to call her back. The best thing she could do was get back to Eastbourne and spend what was left of her day writing the next chapter of her book.
Sixteen
Dee walked around the studio in silence, taking it all in. She’d never been inside an artist’s studio before, but this place was exactly what she’d imagined one might look like. Situated on the second floor of a draughty warehouse, it was a large space flooded with light coming through the huge, industrial windows. An easel stood in the middle of the room. On it was a canvas with an unfinished painting. More canvases, in varying sizes, were stacked against the exposed brick wall.
‘Take a look,’ Annie said, nodding at the stack of canvases.
Dee flicked through them, pausing every now and then when a particular painting caught her attention. There were more landscapes here, lots of them, along with some striking portrait paintings.
‘This is beautiful,’ Dee said, lifting one out for a better look.