The Body in Bodega Bay (25 page)

“Of course. It hangs in my son's bedroom. It's all he's ever had of his father.”

I asked if we could possibly see it, fearing she would think it a rude request, but she seemed pleased.

“Oh, yes. I thought you might want to look at it. Angela told me you're a professor of art history. And you've had a similar experience, haven't you—finding an icon of Archangel Michael around the time of a friend's death? That's why I was sure you could help Angie in her process of discovery. It was a sign from above, wasn't it?”

Sophie had turned away from Angie and was facing me. Angie brought a finger to her lips in warning. I nodded in acknowledgment, a gesture that Sophie took as confirmation of her spiritual insight. My mind was racing. A glance at Sophie's painting would tell whether we were talking about the same Peter and another panel of the triptych. But I already knew the answer.

“It's quite small,” Sophie almost apologized as she led us down the hall to the room her son occupied as a boy. It was now a more generic guest room. Over the dresser, where most people have a mirror, hung the twin to our icon. It was obviously the left side of a triptych, just the same size and shape as our panel, but in reverse. The figure in the icon was an angel the same size as our Michael, but with feminine hair and figure. She held a long-stemmed lily. The halo was copper, not gold, and the palette of the rest of the painting was in harmony—a pale orange robe and ocher background. There was no doubt in my mind.

“Did your fiancé tell you anything else about the painting?” I asked.

“No. He just asked me to keep it always near me. I think he must have had a premonition of his death. This was what he could leave me of himself.”

“It's a Russian icon, isn't it?”

“Yes. Peter's name was Russian, and he told me it had been in his family a long time. I've always believed it to be a sign that the archangel Gabriel was watching over us, my son and me, even though Peter was gone.”

“And that's what started your interest in angels?”

“Yes, I've been grateful to Gabriel and the angels ever since.”

Angie was bursting to say something but it was clear that she didn't want Sophie to hear it. We thanked Sophie and hastily got ready to go. While Angie arranged another meeting, I pondered Sophie's faith in the goodness of her life and how devastating it would be for her to learn the truth.

As soon as we were at the bottom of Sophie's long white stairwell, Angie grabbed my arm, and insisted, “We've got to talk.”

“I know we do. On the way home, or here?” I pointed toward the café next door.

“Let's eat, right now.” When Angie has a problem, her metabolism races, and she gets awfully hungry.

The Willow Wood Café's turkey club took care of the hunger, but Angie couldn't constrain her emotion. Between bites, she implored: “Promise me you won't tell Sophie about the icon her boyfriend gave to that other woman. What a rat. He was two-timing her while she was pregnant! How is Sophie going to feel if she finds out about that?”

“I know. But we can't pretend it didn't happen, can we?”

“Have a heart, Nora. Sophie's spent her whole life being a single mother, going through everything a mother and child go through together, hanging on because of her faith in her fiancé who lovingly left her in the protection of the angel Gabriel. It would be cruel to take that away from her.”

We were in a pickle. It would be no small thing for Sophie to be faced with Peter's infidelity. I was torn between two choices. Revealing what I knew to Sophie would destroy her innocence. But stifling that knowledge would destroy the prospect of ever restoring a lost masterpiece. Even if Sophie learned the truth, would she ever agree to let her icon be cleaned if it meant losing the image of Gabriel? Of course, we still didn't have the third panel. But discovering the second panel so close at hand now raised my hopes of finding the remaining one. Maybe there was a third girlfriend still keeping it safe for her lost darling Peter.

“We can't keep this quiet forever, Angie. It doesn't work that way.”

“What doesn't work that way?”

“The truth. Sooner or later it will come out.”

“But you don't have to say anything about the other woman, do you? Couldn't you just say you found your icon in the table but you don't know how it got there?”

“What good would that do? Once the discovery of the second panel gets out, Rose Cassini will hear about it. There's no way of preventing that.”

“Couldn't you talk to Rose and ask her to keep quiet for Sophie's sake?”

“I don't know how Rose would feel about that,” I said. I remembered she told me that Peter had been the love of her life. The truth would be a blow for her, as well. “I need time to think this through. I need to talk to Toby.”

At Toby's name, the man at the table in front of us twisted around to look. Until then I hadn't paid the least attention to any of the other patrons in the café. I did now. The man whose back I had been facing was Arnold Kohler, the gambler. Dan had said Charlie owed him money. Kohler quickly turned back to his soup and his companion. I recognized the other man as one of the two pals who had taken care of Tom Keogh when Tom was drunk at the River's End. Sonoma County is a very small world. How much had they overheard?

“We should leave,” I said, lowering my voice.

T
HE HOUSE PHONE
was ringing as we walked in the door. It was Al Miller.

“Hi, Al.”

“Hi, Nora. I was just talking to George on Skype. He's finished the cleaning. It looks magnificent. Have you seen it yet? He's been trying to reach you.”

“Not yet. I've been out. I just this minute got home.”

“Well, wait till you see what it looks like now. I'm sure it's Rublev. I feel it in my bones.”

“Oh, Al, that's fantastic. And something else just happened, something amazing. I think I may have located the other wing of the triptych.”

“No!”

“Believe it or not, it's at the Graton Bakery.” It sounded unreal, even to me.

Al was beside himself at this news.

“But I have a dilemma.” I didn't give him all the details, but enough to explain my concerns.

“Nora, if you're right, this is a major discovery for the art world. You can't just let it drop. It's too important.”

“I know it is, but things are happening so fast. I'm not sure what to do.”

“Then you'd better slow down. You'll talk it over with Toby, won't you?”

“Of course.”

As if on cue, my cell phone rang. Caller ID said Toby. I told Al I had to ring off; he understood.

“Hi, it's me.”

“Toby, wait till you hear what just happened.”

“You can tell me in a minute. Federenco was in again just now, with his son. He wanted to introduce me to him, like he thought I'd be happy to sell them the icon if I had it, just because I met another member of the family. It made me very uncomfortable.”

“Oh? What's he like, the son?”

“A bruiser. Didn't say much, just stood around looking sulky. I felt threatened. They just left a minute ago. I can tell you, I was glad to see the back of them. Okay, so what just happened that you wanted to tell me about?”

“Oh, nothing much, I guess, compared with your news.” I played him on my hook. “It's just that I found a second panel of the triptych.”

There was silence on the line. “You did?” Toby finally managed to blurt out. “How? Where?”

I reeled him in. “At the angel reader's. It's hanging in one of Sophie Redmond's bedrooms, although she doesn't realize what she has. It's the left wing of the triptych, same style and size as ours, with an image of the angel Gabriel on it. Peter Federenco gave it to her around the same time he gave the other one to Rose Cassini. He was sleeping with both of them. How do you like that?”

“I can hardly believe it.”

“It's true, though.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing. At least not yet. Angie is desperate to keep Sophie from finding out about Rose. She's worried that Sophie will be devastated when she learns that Peter was unfaithful to her, and she wants us to keep it all a secret.”

“We can't do that,” said Toby. “We have to tell her. In fact, it wouldn't be fair to Sophie not to tell her. First of all, she may own an extremely valuable work of art. It's in her interest to be aware of that, even if it means finding out about her boyfriend.”

I hadn't considered that. I'd been too locked in to the emotional matrix of the love triangle to give money any thought.

“And by the way,” Toby went on, “what about Rose? Does she know about Sophie?”

“I don't think so. She certainly doesn't know about the other icon, or she would have mentioned it.”

“Right. So Rose doesn't know. Well, she'll have to find out about it, too.”

“I'm afraid so. But Angie will have a fit.”

“That can't be helped.”

I told Toby about the two men in the café who could have been eavesdropping on my conversation with Angie, and then we continued talking about Sophie. Finally, Toby said, “Let's finish this conversation over dinner. Maybe I can bring Angie around.”

But Angie was adamant about keeping our discovery a secret, and the discussion during dinner was heated. I made a roasted chicken, served with fresh asparagus and polenta, with ice cream for dessert. I let Toby do most of the talking since Angie already knew my position. Still, she stuck to her guns.

“I guess I'll just have to let you two work this out,” said Toby when the meal was over, rising from his chair and clearing his place. “I've said my piece. If you'll excuse me, there's something I need to look up on the Internet.” He went into the other room. I knew what he was up to. Yesterday I'd caught him checking out the website for Mercedes-Benz. Tonight it might be BMW or Lexus. Toby was counting his eggs and hatching luxury cars.

Angie remained at the table with her arms folded, looking cross. “Okay, truce,” I said to her. “I think we've talked enough about Sophie for one day.”

“Promise you won't say anything to her until we've talked some more?”

I sighed. “All right, but it's not a promise forever. I'll make some tea.” I put the kettle on and laid out cups and honey. “Now, do you mind if I change the subject?”

“Let me guess,” she huffed. “The convent, right?”

“Um-hmm. May I be blunt?”

Angie unwound her arms and tapped her spoon on her saucer. “Go right ahead.”

“Men. Are you sure you want to give that up?”

“Am I sure? Well, no,” she admitted, and even cracked a smile. “But isn't that what a trial is for? Anyhow, look at my track record. It's nothing to write home about.”

“Maybe so, but you could fill up quite a few pages.” I grinned.

That brought a giggle. “Don't rub it in.”

“Seriously, I can't see you being celibate for the rest of your life.”

“I don't know. Sophie and I discussed it. She's managed quite well herself all these years without a husband.”

“She's not you. Plus she has a son, and it sounds like they have a close relationship. By the way, where does he live? Do you know?”

“He's been in London for the last couple of years. He's an architect. She's very proud of him.”

“Think about it. If you take vows, you'd be giving up the chance to have a son like that. Don't you even promise to give up your parents and siblings and make the other nuns your new family?”

“Not at Grace Quarry. Remember, they've broken away from the church hierarchy. They're part of a new movement. They say they want to reclaim the church for the people.”

“I don't quite get what being a nun means in those circumstances.”

“That's what the sisters are defining right now. I'll have a chance to be part of their experiment.”

“But what would you be promising? And what would you be doing every day? And how does it work financially?”

“The sisters and I will talk about all those things. When we work it all out, we'll write up a plan, a kind of contract, and I'll have time to think about it.”

“Will you let other people see it before you sign it? Like me?”

“I'm not hiding anything, and neither are the sisters. It's just that I'm only at the beginning of thinking about this.” I could hear the unspoken plea to cut her some slack. And, a bit late, I remembered my intention to let Angie lead her own life.

“I'm sorry, Angie. I'm sure you've thought through these questions, and more. I'm still just getting used to the idea.”

“Does that mean you're not completely against it?”

“I'm not. As you say, a trial is a trial. At the end of it, you'll know.”

Angie narrowed her eyelids. “You think I'll give up on the idea after I've tried it for a year, don't you?”