The Portrait of Doreene Gray (14 page)

“Help her out, Michael.” Angus began to jog toward Doreene's house.

Michael took Suki's bag, and they trotted after him.

Ahead, Reynaldo walked with his hands in his pockets, head slightly bowed.

When they were perhaps fifty feet behind him, Angus slowed to a walk, panting. “Somebody get his attention,” he gasped.

“Hey, Reynaldo!” Suki yelled.

Reynaldo turned and waited. When they had caught up with him, he gave Angus a look of concern. “Are you well?”

“Fine.” Angus put a hand to his ribs and massaged them. “We saw you getting out of Enrico's car. Did you work out your differences?”

Reynaldo looked at his feet. “Um, yes.”

“That's good, since Enrico seems to be an old friend of Maureene's. He's Lyndsay's father, isn't he?”

Reynaldo turned and walked away. “Leave me alone. I don't have to answer your questions.”

Suki trotted to get beside him, holding her camera with one hand to keep it from bouncing. “Listen, Reynaldo. We're the only people who don't have a stake in how any of this turns out. We want to know what happens, obviously, but we don't care who it happens to.”

Reynaldo shot her a glance. “Is that supposed to make me want to talk to you?”

Suki looked at Angus and Michael. “Would one of you word guys help me out here?”

Michael spoke first. “Reynaldo, if you need help, just ask.”

“Really?” Reynaldo stopped suddenly. They were at the curb. Across the street, Doreene's house loomed beneath a gray sky. He turned to Michael. “If I wanted to go home, would you buy me a plane ticket to Brazil? Is that the kind of help you mean?” Reynaldo watched as Michael opened and closed his mouth. “No? I didn't think so.” He stepped off the curb and crossed the street.

“Wait!” Angus called. “Maybe we can—”

Reynaldo lifted a hand without turning around. “Don't worry. Everything is fine.” He jogged the rest of the way to the house and went inside.

Angus looked at his watch. “It's twenty-five past two.”

As he spoke, a silver Volvo passed them, crossed the intersection, and parked in front of Doreene's house. Max Thorne got out and waved at them before going up the walk.

“Let's go,” Angus said, trotting across the street.

Lupita opened the door for Max as they reached the porch. Max gave the
Tripping
crew a polite smile as they followed him inside.

“Miss Doreene says to go on up,” Lupita said to Max. She turned in the direction of the kitchen.

Angus touched her arm and whispered, “Is Reynaldo upstairs with her?”

Lupita shook her head. “He's in the kitchen, getting a drink.”

“Double shot of vodka?” Suki asked.

Lupita smiled faintly. “Excuse me, I have to cook dinner.” She left.

Angus started up the stairs. “Guess we'll go see what's happening.”

“Good idea,” Suki said. “Let's go beard the loony in her den.”

They heard a chuckle from the top of the stairs and looked up to see Max's back as he disappeared down the hallway.

When they reached the second floor, Doreene's door stood open, and she could be heard chatting to Max.

Angus strolled toward the sound. “She sounds happy enough,” he murmured.

“Are we going to just walk in?” Michael whispered.

At the sound of footsteps on the stairway, they turned toward the end of the hall.

Maureene came toward them, Reynaldo behind her. Maureene's skin was the color of putty, and the skin under her eyes had drooped into bags. She leaned over and murmured something to Reynaldo. His expression, already haunted, grew more anxious.

Maureene stopped when she reached Angus. “Is Max in there with her?”

“I believe so.”

“Anyone else?”

“Not that I know of.”

She nodded briefly and walked on, Reynaldo at her side. They disappeared into Doreene's room.

“Once more unto the breach,” Angus said, following.

When they reached Doreene's bedroom, Angus knocked very quietly on the frame. Suki and Michael looked over his shoulders.

Inside, Doreene stood with her arms wrapped around Reynaldo and her face pressed to his chest. Gigi stood at their feet, looking up.

Doreene pulled away enough to look up at Reynaldo. “I'm sorry I yelled at you, Rey. You're absolutely right about that painting, it's making me crazy. I know I'll feel better when it's gone. Can you forgive me?” Her lower lip pouted prettily.

He kissed her. “Of course,
cara.
”

Maureene headed toward the closet door, which stood open.

Doreene pulled away from Reynaldo and darted in front of her sister. “Leave Max alone while he's working.” Poking her head inside the closet, she said, “I'm closing this so you won't have any interruptions, Max. Just knock when you're done.” She closed the door and turned back to her sister. “Sit down and relax, Maureene.” Doreene looked at the bed, which was covered with piles of sorted clothes, including a fur coat and a satin ball gown. “Or just stand. He won't be long.”

Maureene shook her head, the wrinkles on either side of her mouth deepening. “Why are you doing this?”

Doreene laughed gaily. “Because it's my painting. You gave it to me, remember?”

Reynaldo spoke. “Doreene, I have something to ask you.”

“What is it, sweetie?” Doreene went to him and wrapped her hands around his bicep.

“As your husband, I am asking you to get rid of that painting,” he said solemnly.

Doreene smiled more brightly. “I
am
getting rid of it. That's why the nice man is in there, measuring away.”

Reynaldo gathered her hands in his. “It needs to be burned,
cara.
Until it is, I'm afraid you won't be free.”

Doreene's smile tightened. “No one's free, angel. You should know that better than anyone.” She looked past him and seemed to notice Angus and the others for the first time. “Have you found out who's responsible for the slugs or the soup? No? Then I think you'd better leave.”

“We won't be able to find a motel,” Michael said, “with everyone in town for the boat festival.”

Doreene tossed her head irritably. “I suppose you can stay tonight, but I want you gone tomorrow—in the morning.”

A knock came from inside the closet. Doreene went over, slid the lock plate aside, and punched a code on the keypad beneath.

Max came out, rolling a fabric tape measure around one hand. “All done.” He saw Maureene. “I commend you for using a standard canvas size, Maureene. It makes shipping that much easier.”

Maureene's face seemed even grayer. “When is it leaving?”

“Rothwell's will overnight a shipping case to me. I'll pack the painting and send it off the next day. So … day after tomorrow.” He looked at the piles of clothes on the bed. “Going on another trip, Doreene?”

“Just cleaning house. See anything your daughter might like?”

He chuckled. “I've given up trying to figure out her tastes. My intern would go crazy over that fur coat, though. She's into vintage glamour.”

Doreene looped her arms under the folded coat and offered it to him. “Take it. I get dirty looks every time I wear it in Port Townsend.”

Max raised a hand in protest. “Oh, I wasn't seriously suggesting … Anyway, your sister should have first dibs on something that nice.” He turned to Maureene.

She shook her head. “I don't want the damn thing.”

“Take it, Max,” Doreene said. “You'll save me having to find someone who'll actually wear it.”

“If you're sure.” He took it from her. “You've made a poor little New York girl very happy.” He leaned over the bundled coat and kissed her cheek, then turned. “Maureene, can I take you out to dinner? I'd love to run some catalog copy by you.”

Maureene left the room without a word.

Max grimaced slightly. “Artistic temperament. All the great ones have it.” He nodded at Reynaldo and the others. “I'd shake hands, but they're full of fur. Take care, everyone.” He left.

Reynaldo turned back to Doreene. “
Cara,
I'm telling you, there is still time.”

Doreene gave him a sultry smile. “Before dinner? You bet there is.” She looked at Angus and the others. “Close the door on your way out.”

*   *   *

Michael and Suki followed Angus back to his room.

Angus shut the door and turned, shaking his head. “I'd love to know what's going on with that painting. Is it voodoo? Demonic possession?” He sat on the edge of his bed.

“Blackmail?” Michael suggested. “Hidden microchips? Some Old Master stolen by the Nazis that Maureene painted over?” He slouched in an armchair and straightened his long legs. “Doreene is certainly good at spin. I love the way she said, ‘Sorry I yelled at you' instead of ‘Sorry I smacked you hard across the chops.'”

“Maybe she's not sorry about that part,” Suki said. She poked through Angus's plastic bag of toiletries, which sat on his nightstand. “Don't you use sunscreen?”

“I'm too old for sunscreen.”

“No one is too old for sunscreen.”

Angus ignored her. “It might pay for us to keep in touch with Reynaldo. If he and Doreene split up, he might feel the urge to tell his side of the story. We can at least give him our phone numbers and offer him a place to stay.”

Suki raised a hand. “Dibs.”

“What are we going to do now that Doreene is kicking us out?” Michael asked. “Try to find a motel tomorrow or just go home?”

Angus ran a hand through his hair. “I'll call some motels and see if we can find something reasonably close for tomorrow night. In case we can't, tonight would be a good time to look at Fort Worden. I found a few people online who said the old gun batteries are haunted.”

“And if you have your way, a lot more people will think that after reading our article.” Michael put his hands behind his head. “Don't you ever get tired of being a fright monger?”

“On the contrary,” Angus said. “I'm providing a public service. Humans crave a certain amount of danger in their lives. If we don't give them a few harmless shivers, they'll risk their lives jumping out of planes or driving too fast.”

Suki looked at Michael and raised her brows.

“What?” Michael said.

“No rebuttal?”

“Actually, there is evidence that humans thrive on a certain amount of fear. Although you'd think that paying attention to world affairs would do the trick.”

Angus smiled and shook his head. “Oh, Michael. Where's the fun in that?”

 

Fourteen

The staff of
Tripping
drove to Fort Worden State Park, about ten minutes away.

“So what's the deal with this place?” Suki asked as she navigated the minivan past tidy houses and green, green grass.

Angus consulted a book in his lap. “This fort, as well as Fort Flagler and Fort Casey, was constructed to protect Puget Sound from attack by sea. Together, they were called the Triangle of Fire. Construction on Fort Worden began in 1897, and it was decommissioned in 1953.” He flipped some pages. “The army built it, and the government created the coast artillery to man it. That branch of the military doesn't exist anymore.”

“Did the fort see any action?” Michael asked.

“No. Soon after it was built, the navy began mounting big guns on ships, and the fort was rendered obsolete from a defensive standpoint. But I'm sure lots of valuable training took place here, and they built a balloon hangar when the military started experimenting with air reconnaissance and attack.”

Suki drove through the main gates and past a rhododendron garden, its blooms a riot of color. “Pretty.”

In the backseat, Michael gazed out the window as they passed rolling lawns and well-kept frame buildings. “Are those the barracks? Those look like pretty nice houses. Where's the corrugated metal?” He scooted across the seat and looked out the other side. “I don't know, Angus. A place this pleasant doesn't seem like fertile ground for ghosts.”

Angus waved his book. “After the government sold the fort property, but before it became a state park, it was a facility for troubled youth.”

“Ah.” Michael nodded. “Now we're talking.”

The car reached an intersection. On the other side of the road, a beach flanked the slate-blue water. Long, sere grass waved in a steady wind.

“That's Admiralty Inlet ahead of us,” Angus said. “Take a left here. We'll do a loop before we go to the gun battery.”

They passed a weathered wood building with a dock, labeled the Port Townsend Marine Science Center. Boats bobbed in the water next to it.

“RV park,” Suki said as she drove past an army of campers on the left. Adults sat at picnic tables while children and dogs ran around.

Angus waved at an adorable little girl as they passed. She lifted a tentative hand. “It's a well-used facility. They rent out the barracks and officers' quarters as well.”

The coast curved to the right, and they left the campers behind.

“Hey, a lighthouse!” Suki said. “With a whole house attached to it.”

Angus nodded. “The Point Wilson Lighthouse was built in 1913, and is the tallest on Puget Sound. As with all the best lighthouses, it's reputed to be haunted.”

Michael looked thoughtful. “I'd probably drink a lot if I lived all alone with nothing to watch but sinking ships. You sure it wasn't the booze making them see things?”

“Ships aren't supposed to sink when there's a lighthouse,” Suki said. “That's the whole point.”

“And the lighthouse keepers weren't alone,” Angus added. “They had families, which is why that nice house is attached to the place. Of course, it's all automated now, so no one lives there. They have tours, but I think it's past time.”