What The Watercolorist Knew

I couldn't get out of my mind that we are connected.  Pfft to the money.  I want to know more.  Now.  So I waited outside.  A new set of sable brushes and M. Graham watercolors and I was good to go.

I liked the stormy seas.  It resonated what was really going on.  With my chair in place and aisle in front of me this is what I created.  The summer house.  We used to go there when I was a wee tot.  Before money ruled.  My next-door neighbor, Donnie, the first boy I kissed under the steps in his...not my...steps.  Well, he often came with his family.  Their cottage was just down the dusty, dirt lane.  I'd ride my bike and meet him half way early in the mornings. 

That was long ago.  Before egos ruled. But Donnie and I still kept in touch.  In fact, he called last night. 

"You know I am still curious about what happened to Mrs. Appleton."

"Don't you know.  Gosh, I thought everyone did.  She is miserable with her husband.  I once overheard her say she wanted to leave him.  I wonder..."

"Well, we sure have motive.  Lots of opportunity.  Now when?  That is the question.  And how?"

Painting is a curious thing.  Changes the side of the brain we use for starters.  It crystallizes everything. Just as I finished the painting and was set to clean off the brushes it came to me. 

Mrs. Appleton was filing for divorce.  That is what Donnie meant when he reminded me how unhappy she has always been. 

I remembered a few years ago when I asked him, another watercolorist, if I could use his palette knife.  He panicked. Said he misplaced it. Oh my g-d.