Free Dying Art (A Dylan Scott Mystery) by Shirley Wells Page B

can bring her back to us, can they?”
    “Why do you care? You’re not paying for it.”
    Ruth longed to make her escape but a car’s headlights lit up the kitchen and she knew she’d have to stay long enough to say hello to Tim.
    Maddie turned to smile as the two men walked into the kitchen. She accepted a peck on both cheeks from Eddie and a quick hug from Tim.
    Ruth was also given kisses and hugs.
    “Is everything okay?” Tim asked.
    “Fine, thanks,” Maddie said.
    “Ruth?”
    “Yes, of course, Tim. I just thought I’d call in and see how Maddie was coping. Did you have a good flight?”
    “The good part was that it was on time,” Tim said.
    “How are you bearing up, Maddie?” Eddie asked.
    “I’m okay, thanks.” Maddie held the wine bottle aloft. “Drink?”
    “Are you sure?” Eddie asked, ignoring the question and the bottle. “We felt terrible leaving you at such a time. It’s just awful that you’ve had to cope with all this on your own.”
    He made it sound as if Ruth had done nothing to help. Perhaps that was true, but it was only because she hadn’t been allowed to.
    “I’m fine.” Maddie patted his arm and smiled at him. “But thanks, Eddie.”
    Maddie was playing the martyr and Eddie had fallen for it and drawn a smile from her. Ruth bit back on the unkind thought but, really, Maddie wasn’t on her own. Maddie had wanted to take control. No one had asked her to.
    “Eddie? Are you having a drink or not?” Tim asked.
    “Go on then. I’ll have a quick one for the road. Better make it a small one though.”
    “What about you, Ruth?”
    “I’m driving. So no, thanks.” Ruth would have a stiff drink when she got home. Not that she was getting into that habit. It would be far too easy to try to numb the pain of Prue’s death with alcohol but she wasn’t that stupid.
    Both men looked tense. Perhaps their trip hadn’t been as successful as they’d hoped. Eddie was three years younger than Tim but looked a decade older. He was, according to Tim, the brains behind the partnership. She supposed Tim offered the charm, sophistication and good looks. Clothes were honoured to grace his six-foot-tall, slim frame. Shoes were of the softest leather. His dark hair was kept short. Tiny lines around slate-grey eyes gave the impression of sincerity and of someone who laughed a lot. Ruth couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard a laugh tumble from his lips.
    She couldn’t pretend to know her son-in-law well though. Tim and Maddie were far too busy to bother with the old folk.
    She wondered if the marriage was a happy one. She hoped so but she had her doubts.
    Eddie didn’t intend to linger, thank goodness. After a few minutes spent talking about the delights of sun-kissed countries, he drained his glass and gave Tim a hearty slap on the back. “I’ll love you and leave you.”
    “Thanks for the lift home,” Tim said.
    “No worries. Let’s fix something up for a night out. It will do you good, Maddie. There’s no point brooding, is there?”
    “None at all,” she said. “We’ll arrange something soon. Good to see you, Eddie.”
    When Eddie had gone, Ruth had no need to stay. “It’s time I was off, too,” she said. “It’s been good to see you, Tim. And Maddie, if you need me to take Prue’s things—”
    “I don’t. Stop fussing, Mother. I can deal with it. Anyway, it’s too late now because it’s all done. I just need to get that painting—”
    “Which painting, darling?”
    “It’s nothing. There was a painting in Prue’s bedroom that the secondhand furniture dealer thought might be worth a few pounds. It won’t be, but I’d better get it checked just in case.”
    “What sort of painting?” Tim asked.
    “It’s just a tatty little miniature. I’ll tell you about it later.”
    She would tell Tim, Ruth thought, but she wasn’t about to tell her own mother. Ruth didn’t really care. If Maddie found something of value and wanted to sell it and keep the