Free Fatal Disclosure by Sandra Robbins Page B

compliment, mister.”
    “That’s the way it was intended, ma’am.”
    “In that case, I’ll let you buy me lunch. I’ve been working all morning and I’m starved.” Betsy opened the back door of the car and settled the painting between the front and backseats. “There, that should do it.” She slammed the door. “Let’s drop this off first, then we can go eat. By the way, where are you taking me?”
    “How about The Coffee Cup? It should be crowded with locals. If you see any strangers, you can let me know.”
    “Okay. But I warn you…that’s the hangout for Grady Teach. If he’s there and sees you with me, he’ll want to know all about you. He calls himself the island historian, but he’s really our biggest gossip.”
    Mark chuckled and opened the passenger door for her. “I saw him holding court there this morning. He’s quite a colorful character. I heard him say he’s a descendant of Blackbeard.”
    “He is, and he’ll tell anyone who will listen all about it. His stories about Blackbeard’s treasure that’s still buried on the island sends tourists out to the salt marshes trying to find it.”
    Mark closed the door and walked to the driver’s side. He slid behind the wheel and swiveled to face Betsy. “Do you think he might know anything about John? Maybe he ran into him somewhere on the island.”
    “It’s worth a try.”
    He reached for the ignition and then drew back his hand. “Betsy, you seem different today. You’re not as defensive as you were yesterday, and you seem more at ease.”
    A flush rose in her cheeks, and she clasped her hands in her lap. “I decided I had to put the past out of my mind for the time being. I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, and I don’t want to appear ungrateful. I hope you can forgive me for my snippy attitude yesterday. It won’t happen again.”
    His eyebrows arched. Betsy was asking for his forgiveness? He never thought he’d hear those words from her. Then he remembered she’d said she would put the past out of her mind for the time being.
    His good mood suddenly deflated. She might be trying to appear more cordial, but he had no doubt when this case was over they would be right back where they’d been before. All her old resentful feelings would return. Gritting his teeth, he put the car in gear and pulled out of the bed-and-breakfast parking lot.
    “Tell me how to get to this studio where we’re taking the painting.”
    She pointed to the right. “Go this way, and turn right at the second street. The studio is on the left.”
    Mark followed her directions, and a few minutes later pulled to a stop in front of a rustic, two-story house. A porch wrapped around two sides of the building, and a sign that said Cardwell’s Studio and Gallery hung over the front door. Wicker rockers sat on the porch, and several patrons appeared to be enjoying a relaxing moment.
    Betsy jumped from the car and pulled her painting from the backseat. “The gallery where Will and I sell our pieces is through the front door. The studio where he teaches and works is around back. Let’s go there first.”
    She led him along a path that circled the house and ended at a long, narrow building that sat at a ninety-degree angle from the house. She pushed a door open and stepped into the structure.
    A gray-haired man stood at one end of the room where four women and two men sat, their bodies bent over pottery wheels. The man stopped beside one woman and patted her shoulder. “You’re going to get the hang of this, Mary Lou. Like I say, it takes practice, practice, practice.”
    “That’s Will Cardwell,” Betsy whispered. “This is one of his beginner classes.”
    Will turned and smiled when he spotted her. “Betsy, what are you doing here today?”
    She held up the canvas in her hand. “I brought another painting I want to include in the shipment to the mainland.”
    “Then put it in the back room with the others. If you decide to send anything else,