The Portrait of Doreene Gray (27 page)

Lupita disappeared into the pantry and came back with a produce bag and a length of clothesline. “Here.”

The clothesline was fairly long. Angus threaded it through the loop on Gigi's collar and held on to both ends, not bothering to tie it. “Thanks.”

He went through the conservatory and out the side door. Gigi ran ahead a little way, squatted, and peed copiously.

“What a good girl.” Angus tucked the plastic bag in his jacket pocket and looked at his watch. “What do you say we take a brisk walk? Get things moving.” He set off toward the street. Gigi, after a brief hesitation, caught up to him and frisked at his side.

They had walked perhaps a half-block when she took an interest in a grassy spot between the street and the sidewalk. Angus looked politely away as she walked in circles, back hunched.

When Gigi finished, he used the bag to pick up the mess. “At least they've been feeding you,” he murmured.

They went back to the house and in the side door. A plate of sandwiches sat in the middle of the conservatory table. Gigi sniffed the air hungrily.

Angus took the plastic bag of dog poop from his pocket, untied the neck and rolled it down, then looked around the room. The sideboard had space beneath it.

He knelt and carefully pushed the open bag all the way under the sideboard. As he got to his feet, Gigi looked from Angus to the sideboard, her furry brow wrinkled.

“Sorry to damage your reputation,” Angus murmured. He walked into the kitchen, where a coffee urn hissed and Lupita bustled around. “I'll keep the dog with me, shall I? Get her out of your way.”

Lupita gave him a grateful look. “Thank you.”

“No problema.” Angus tugged lightly on the leash. “Come along, lass.”

He went upstairs, checked to make sure Gigi had food and water in Doreene's room, then shut the dog in there. He went to his own room and got his laptop before tapping lightly on Michael and Suki's doors. They came out.

“Where's Gigi?” Suki asked.

“In Doreene's room, with food and water.” Angus checked his watch again. “Both of you grab whatever you need to look like you're working and come with me. Michael, make sure you have your little recorder.”

Angus led the way downstairs to the ballroom. He looked around, then went to a door in the wall and peered into the space beyond. “I think we can do better.”

“What are you looking for?” Michael asked as he and Suki followed.

“A place to work quietly, just outside this room.” Angus looked through another door. “This will do.” He waved them through, into a dim hallway, and pulled the door to, leaving a gap of about an inch.

“What did you do to the conservatory?” Michael asked.

“Hid an open bag of dog crap under the sideboard. I only hope someone notices the smell
before
they start, or that's going to be one awkward meeting.” Angus walked a few steps down the hall and looked into a doorway. “Here's a nice little sitting room. We'll set our things up as though we're working, and be able to run back here if anyone heads our way.”

They turned on their computers and arranged them before going back to the hallway outside the ballroom. Angus peeked through the door, then backed away. “I think I hear people coming. Get settled.”

Michael took his digital recorder out of his pants pocket, turned it on, and placed it carefully on the floor next to the door opening.

The sounds of conversation filtered in from the other room as the family settled themselves.

Angus angled his head so he could see through the opening without coming too close to it. Lupita crossed his vision, walking toward the back of the room with the coffee service on a tray.

Baumgartner and Detective Kroger came into view, bent toward each other in quiet conversation. Officer Madison followed them.

Angus watched Maureene and Hank sit in side-by-side armchairs, their backs to him. Lyndsay and Reynaldo settled on a love seat across from the older couple, and Lupita perched on the edge of a chair at the back of the circle.

Baumgartner sat down opposite Lupita and put his briefcase on his lap. “I have some new information that affects the outcome of the will for some of you.”

Now that they were focused on the attorney, Angus moved nearer to the door. Michael bent and looked beneath him while Suki squatted on the floor.

Kroger stood outside the circle of furniture—behind Baumgartner, where he could see everyone's faces. Officer Madison stood beside him and unclipped a pad from his belt.

“Excuse me,” Lyndsay said to Baumgartner, “but why are the police here?”

Kroger answered. “Today's information will help me fill in some of the blank spots in Ms. Gray's case file. I thought it would be quicker and easier to hear it firsthand, rather than take everyone through another round of questions.”

There were murmurs of agreement.

Baumgartner took a stapled bunch of papers from his briefcase and flipped to the third page. “It has come to my attention that Doreene Gray's first husband is still alive.”

“What?!” Reynaldo leaned forward as though he were about to rise.

Baumgartner went on. “Enrico Russo is actually Hank Gray.”

Reynaldo and Lyndsay both stared at Hank. Reynaldo felt for Lyndsay's hand and gripped it.

Lyndsay turned to Maureene. “You had an affair with your
twin sister's husband
?”

Maureene said something too quiet for Angus to hear.

Lyndsay went on, her voice high and hard. “All this time, I've felt sorry for you—for us—because Aunt Doreene treated us badly, but I guess she had a good reason!”

Hank Gray stood, his powerful shoulders hunched. “You don't know the first thing about Doreene. Trust me, she doesn't deserve your sympathy.”

Reynaldo shot to his feet. “
Traidor!
How can you say such a thing?”

Baumgartner raised his hands and patted the air. “This is not helping. Please take your seats and be quiet.”

Hank and Reynaldo sat, eyeing each other angrily.

Baumgartner went on. “Mr. Gray, perhaps you could tell us the circumstances of your disappearance. It might help resolve some issues.”

Hank looked to one side. “I didn't want to go to Argentina. Doreene and I hadn't been getting along for a while, and I hated the thought of spending every minute together.” He expelled a breath through his nose. “But she'd already bought the plane tickets, so we went.”

“After taking time to knock up my mother,” Lyndsay said.

Hank looked at her, his expression unapologetic. “I've always loved Maureene. I dated her first, but Doreene treated life like it was an endless party, and that appealed to me when I was young. I was wrong.”

“What happened in Argentina?” Baumgartner prompted.

Hank turned away from Lyndsay. “We were both good riders, so Doreene booked us an expert horse trek through the Andes—us, two guides, a cook, and a couple of extra horses to carry things.” He sighed. “We argued—God, how we argued. By the third day, our guides were riding pretty far ahead. I'm sure they wanted to get away from the sound of our voices.

“We were at the top of a steep ridge when something made my horse shy. It threw me, and I fell over the edge. I remember lying on the ground with rocks raining down on top of me while fifty feet overhead, a thousand pounds of horse fought to keep from going over the cliff.”

Officer Madison wrote frantically, eyebrows climbing up his forehead.

Hank went on. “Luckily, the horse didn't fall. Doreene called to me. I told her I was bruised all over and had a pretty good gouge in my leg where I'd come up against a sharp rock, but I was sure I could ride. She said she'd get the guides and they'd pull me up.” He stopped and looked at the floor, a muscle in his jaw working.

“And?” Lyndsay demanded.

Hank met her glare. “And I didn't see her again until last week.”

“Are you saying she never came back for you?” Lyndsay demanded.

“That's exactly what I'm saying.”

“You're lying!” Reynaldo said. “My
princessa
would never do that!”

Hank gave a humorless laugh. “I didn't want to believe it, either. I lay there for two hours before I realized no one was coming back for me. So I stumbled down the mountain until I found a track. I followed it half the night, shivering from the cold, and finally ran into some gauchos. They didn't speak English, but they cleaned me up and took me to Mendoza, where I sold my watch for a lot less than it was worth.

“By the time I got back to Buenos Aires, the story about the American tourist who died on a horse trek was old news. The paper printed a picture of the place where I supposedly fell, and I can see why no one tried to retrieve my body. By the time Doreene arranged for a helicopter search, it seemed likeliest that I'd been eaten by animals.”

Baumgartner looked up from writing a note. “You didn't tell people who you were?”

Hank's tone was wry. “I wasn't eager to go back to a wife who had left me to die. Who knew if she would be more determined the next time?” He paused. “Also, an experience like that makes you wonder about yourself. Someone hated me enough to leave me to die. I shouldn't have married one sister when I loved the other. I shouldn't have done a lot of things.”

Detective Kroger broke the ensuing silence. “Ms. Gray brought your passport back with her. How did you manage to get a new identity?”

“Doreene and I had met a lot of people during our travels. One of them lived in Buenos Aires. He was very rich and, frankly, a little crazy. His gardener, Enrico Russo, had died a few months before I turned up, so this man bribed Russo's family to let me use his name and then found someone to make a set of papers.”

“I suppose all that is possible,” Kroger said, “but you were gone for
twenty-eight years.
Didn't you have family you wanted to see? And how did you make a living?”

“My parents are dead, and I'm not close to my brother,” Hank said flatly. “The man who arranged for my identity let me live at his ranch in exchange for working around the place. I learned Portuguese, and gradually it dawned on me that I was happier where I was. Before I knew it, a year had gone by. I got a job with a company that imported goods from the U.S. and eventually became vice president. I fell in love with Argentina. There wasn't a compelling reason to come back.”

Baumgartner smiled faintly. “But you did.”

“When Internet alerts became a thing, I set one for Doreene's name. I figured that if she died before me, I'd come back to see what the situation was.” Hank shifted restlessly, rubbing one hand over his mouth. “Instead, I read that Doreene was going to sell the portrait. The article also mentioned that Maureene had a daughter.” He looked at Lyndsay again. “I had no idea you existed before then. I'm not sorry about a lot of things, but I am sorry I wasn't here to be your father.”

Lyndsay stared at her lap.

Reynaldo put his arm around her shoulders and glared at Hank.

Maureene cleared her throat. “Does this mean Hank inherits the house and the painting?”

Baumgartner shook his head. “No.”

Lyndsay and Reynaldo both looked up.

“No?”
Maureene asked. “Isn't he still Doreene's husband, since they never divorced?”

“Yes, but the painting and the house are considered separate property, since they were deeded to Ms. Gray before the marriage,” Baumgartner said. “And while those items might normally go to Mr. Gray by default, Ms. Gray's will specifically excludes him from inheriting them.”

Hank's hands clenched, and his skin reddened under his tan.

Maureene stared at Baumgartner. “Doreene
wrote Hank out of her will?
Didn't that suggest to you that she knew he was still alive?”

Baumgartner shrugged. “His body was never recovered, so she might be excused for taking precautions.”

“And it's not your job to ask those questions,” Detective Kroger said drily.

“That, too.” Baumgartner looked at Hank. “Given the circumstances, you could choose to contest the will.”

“Never mind that,” Hank said. “Who inherits now?”

“As Doreene's closest remaining family, Maureene Pinter does.”

Lyndsay made an abrupt, bitter gesture and turned sideways on the love seat, away from her mother.

“In that case,” Hank said, “I don't need to contest anything.”

Maureene addressed Detective Kroger. “I don't mean to seem grasping, but do you have any idea when the portrait will be released from evidence so I can sell it? I do have a heavily mortgaged house and a housekeeper who needs paying.”

Kroger rocked on his heels. “I'm not sure when we can release it. We have some new information we're working on.”

“He means me,” Hank said. “The key code to Doreene's locked room turned out to be our wedding anniversary. April 4, 1980.”

“About that.” Baumgartner turned his head and looked up at Detective Kroger. “I should point out that Ms. Gray used that date for most of her security codes. I told her it wasn't remotely secure.”

“What do you mean,
most of her codes
?” Kroger asked.

“Safe deposit box, for example.”

“And the ATM,” Lupita added. “She used to send me to get money.”

“She used the first three numbers for the padlocks on our luggage,” Reynaldo said glumly.

Kroger made an exasperated face. “I'll see what I can do to hurry the portrait's release along.” He turned and stalked toward the back of the room, taking his cell phone out of his pocket as he did so.

Baumgartner flipped through the files in his briefcase. “Ms. Pinter, now is as good a time as any to go over some paperwork and have you sign a few things, if you have time.”

“Good idea.” Maureene stood and looked around, then pointed directly at the door that shielded the
Tripping
staff from view. “There's a room through there with a table and chairs.”