The Portrait of Doreene Gray (32 page)

“Half,” Michael said.

Reynaldo pouted. “But it is my story.”

Michael smiled. “You can always write it yourself and keep all the profit.”

Reynaldo took another sip. “How long before we would get the money?”

Michael leaned forward. “Remember, there's no guarantee we'll get any. With your help, I hope to write and organize the book in four to six months. If we can get a publisher to take it on, it'll be another year before it hits the shelves. Let's say two years, just to be safe.”

“Two years?” Reynaldo exclaimed. “What will I live on in the meantime? Lyndsay is talking about moving to New York.”

“I guess you'll have to find work,” Michael said, “unless you can find someone else to pay your expenses.”

“Can I live with you?” Reynaldo asked. “Then you would not have to travel to work with me.”

“Possibly,” Michael said. “But I can't afford to pay for your food and whatever. You'd still need a job, and Colorado isn't a big boat state.” At Reynaldo's blank look, he said, “It's right in the middle of the country—no ocean. Have you waited tables before?”

Reynaldo shook his head.

Michael tapped his fingers on the table. “You might be able to get modeling work in Denver. The thing is, there's a really good chance this book project could pay off, and what do you have to lose?”

Reynaldo stared at the tabletop. “I will think about it.”

*   *   *

Angus and Suki sat at a table on the second floor of a waterfront restaurant. They had slept until half past nine and walked to a restaurant that served brunch.

A waitress took their order, casting frequent glances at Suki's gray shirt, the torn sides of which were laced together with electrical wire.

After the waitress left, Angus unwrapped his silverware, muttering as he did so. “I can't believe Michael. Of all the underhanded, ungrateful, unethical, sneaky—”

“Sneaky doesn't begin with
un,
” Suki said.

Angus stopped muttering and stared at her.

“Plus, it has nothing to do with me.” Suki gave Angus a distinctly chilly look. “Your misplaced anger is starting to get on my nerves.”

Angus took a deep breath and laid his napkin over his lap. “You're absolutely right. I'm sorry.” His lips turned up in a reasonable facsimile of a smile. “So. What do you do when you're not taking fantastic pictures for us?”

“Stuff.” Suki used her head to gesture toward the other side of the restaurant. “Max Thorne and stupid Lyndsay just walked in.”

Angus looked casually over his shoulder. “Sure enough.”

Suki raised her brows at him. “Do you see what she has on her head?”

Angus watched Max usher Lyndsay into a corner booth. Lyndsay wore a saucy black raincoat and a black beret. “Some sort of hat.”

“
My
hat.” Suki spoke through gritted teeth. “What do you bet Max is hitting on her? Once, when I wore that hat, an Italian guy literally threw himself at my feet. We might have hooked up if he hadn't broken two fingers when they rammed into my boot.”

“You're pretty enough to break men's fingers without a hat.” Angus saw the waitress approaching with a tray. “Here's our food.”

They ate in silence. Periodically either Angus or Suki glanced at the booth where Max and Lyndsay sat.

Max sat with his back to them, his posture changing gradually from casual to intense. He leaned over the table, making small, private gestures with his hands.

The bill came, and Angus gave the waitress the credit card provided by Pendergast, the orthodontist who funded
Tripping.
“Are you finished?” he asked Suki, who had left half her sandwich and was taking pictures of gulls outside the window.

“Sure.” Suki powered off her camera, put it in her bag, and got up.

“Hang on,” Angus said. “I still have to sign the check.”

“I know. I'm just gonna go over and say ‘hi' to Max and Lyndsay.”

“Don't—” Angus reached to grab her, but she was too quick.

She glanced back and gave him an impish smile. “What? It would look weird if I ignored Max, what with us saving his life and all.”

As she walked away, Angus looked around for the waitress, who still had his credit card.

She stood behind the cash register, chatting with the bartender.

Angus got up and went over to her. “I'm sorry, but we're in a bit of a hurry. If I could just sign that…” He held out his hand for the check.

“Oh, I'm sorry!” she said. “One second while I run it through the machine.”

“That's fine. I should have told you,” Angus said, looking over his shoulder.

Suki stood beside Max and Lyndsay's table. Max smiled up at her, looking casual and urbane. Lyndsay had taken off the beret. It sat on the seat next to her, with her purse.

The waitress handed Angus his bill and a pen. “Here you go. I hope you enjoyed your omelet.”

“It was delicious, thank you.” He scribbled a tip and his name, then strode across the room.

Suki looked up as he joined them. “Max is going to see if he can find Lyndsay a job at Rothwell's. Isn't that great?”

“Wonderful,” Angus agreed.

“It's the least I can do for the family,” Max said. “I feel somewhat responsible for the painting going missing. Maybe if I'd insisted on going with the van to pick it up, or hired a security detail…”

“Don't be silly, Max.” Lyndsay patted his hand. “Anyway, we're better off without the painting. I just wish it hadn't had such a terrible effect on my father. The thing was clearly cursed.”

Angus made a sympathetic tsking noise before asking, “Can we quote you about the curse?”

She looked at him coldly. “I'd rather you didn't.”

Suki took her camera bag off her shoulder. “Do you mind if I put this on the table? It gets heavy.”

“Go ahead,” Max said.

Suki put down her bag. “Do you have a background in art, Lyndsay?”

“Just what I learned from my mother, mostly about portraits.” She smiled at Max. “But I'm highly motivated.”

Angus nodded. “I'm sure you'll do very well.” He turned to Suki. “We should be going.”

“Okay.” Suki reached down and picked up her bag by the strap. “Good luck to both of you.”

Max held out his hand to Angus. “Thanks again for helping me out last night. And if you're ever in New York…”

Angus nodded and shook his hand. “I'll be sure to look you up.” He took Lyndsay's hand. “Best of luck. I hope everything works out.”

She smiled at him. “Me, too.”

Angus turned to find Suki almost at the door. By the time he reached it, she was halfway down the steps to the street level. “What's the big rush?” he asked.

In answer, she lifted her hand over her head and waved the beret.

Angus caught up to her outside, on the sidewalk. “How did you do it?”

Suki glanced behind her, but kept a brisk pace. “I let my bag's strap dangle off Lyndsay's side of the table and scooped up the hat when I took it with me.” She checked the street for traffic before crossing.

Angus glanced both ways and followed. “What would you have said if Lyndsay noticed the hat gone while you were still in the restaurant?”

“That it must have stuck to the Velcro on the bag's flap when I was standing next to the table.”

“That's good,” Angus said admiringly.

Suki suddenly pulled him into a nearby doorway. “Take a look at the car across the street and about a hundred feet ahead.”

Angus peered around the edge of the wall. “What about it?”

“Maureene is sitting in it—staring at the restaurant we just left.”

Angus narrowed his eyes. “I wonder if she's keeping an eye on Lyndsay.”

“Or Max.”

Angus withdrew and shrugged. “Either way, it's nothing to do with us.”

Suki put her hands on her hips. “Really, Angus? We could be looking at the weirdest art heist of the decade. Are you sure you don't want to follow it?”

“Not when it's the paranormal story of the century.
Tripping
readers expect a certain kind of content.”

“How many
Tripping
readers are we talking about?”

Angus fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. “Our subscription rate increased by thirty percent after the Baskerville story.”

Suki folded her arms over her chest. “How
many,
Angus?”

Angus gave an irritated huff and met her eye. “A little over six hundred, but if we follow the mundane aspect of this story, we'll be in competition with every news publication out there.”

“No we won't, because we're the only one with the inside scoop.” Suki put an arm around Angus's shoulder. “Couldn't you expand the scope of the magazine to include the generally bizarre?”

“I don't know.” Angus stared into space. “I could talk it over with Pendergast, I suppose.”

“Why don't you do that. It's always good to have options.” Suki peeked out again. “Max and Lyndsay just came out of the restaurant.”

Angus leaned out enough to see around the corner.

Max and Lyndsay spoke for a moment. He leaned down and kissed her cheek before crossing the street to his car.

Lyndsay walked a few steps, only to stop and study a store window. She glanced sideways to watch Max's car drive away, then walked over to her mother's vehicle and knocked on the passenger-side window.

Maureene apparently rolled down the window, because Lyndsay leaned down and said something before pointing in the direction Max had gone. A few seconds later, Maureene pulled away from the curb and drove after him.

Lyndsay walked briskly in the other direction, which would take her back to her mother's house.

“Interesting,” Angus murmured to Suki.

“What's interesting?” Michael said from behind them.

Angus jerked in surprise, and Suki gave a little yelp.

Angus turned. “Where have you been?”

“Meeting with Reynaldo,” Michael said. “I wanted to get to him early, in case he had plans to take off.”

“And does he?”

“Not yet.” Michael leaned against the doorway's brick edge. “I pitched him my idea, and I think he's interested. I'll mention
Tripping
in the book, of course.”

“Very gracious, I'm sure,” Angus said drily.

Michael frowned. “It's good cross-promotion for
Tripping,
and I'm not infringing on your territory. There was nothing paranormal about Reynaldo's relationship with Doreene.”

“That we
know
of,” Angus said.

“If I run across anything supernatural, I promise not to write about it, okay?” Michael peered around the doorway in the direction they had been looking. “What were you doing when I got here?”

“Let's walk back to the hotel,” Angus said. “We can talk on the way.”

 

Twenty-six

Michael sat in the back of the minivan, hemmed in by their hastily packed luggage. “You know Alexander's Castle has only one bedroom, right? With one bed.”

“I'm sure Suki and I can find something else at Fort Worden,” Angus said. “Maybe in the officers' quarters.”

“I thought you were set to go home.” Michael leaned forward. “You don't have to keep watch on me. I'll finish the story for
Tripping
first.”

“I have every confidence that you will,” Angus said.

Michael sat back against his seat with a thump. “If I figure out what's really going on, I'm not going to hide it. The police will have to know.”

“Of course,” Angus said. “Did we hide anything from the police on the Baskerville story?”

“No, but you misled the public when it came to the article.”

Angus turned in his seat. “We gave our readers what they wanted, and I don't remember misrepresenting any facts in that article.”

“That's because you left out most of the facts!” Michael glared at him.

Angus glared back. “We are not
60 Minutes,
Michael. Our job is to entertain our readers.
They
know it,
I
know it,
Suki
knows it—”

“Sorry, what do I know?” Suki asked. “I wasn't listening.”

Michael raised his voice. “That we're in the business of choosing how much to tell our readers, so they'll keep buying the magazine.”

“Oh, right.” Suki swung the minivan into the entrance of Fort Worden.

Angus went on. “The only person who doesn't seem to understand his job is you, Michael.”

Michael raised both hands. “Fine. I'll write this story the way you want, and then I'm quitting.”

Angus faced forward and stared out the car window. “Maybe that would be best.”

“That's why I suggested it.”

“Fine,” Angus said.

“Fine.”

Suki pulled the car to the side of the road in front of Alexander's Castle. “We're here, in case anyone is interested.” She unclipped her seat belt. “Do you suppose Hank left anything behind? A couple of spare gags, maybe?”

“I'm going to take a walk.” Michael got out and slid his door shut with unnecessary force.

Angus scrambled out and slammed his own door. “I'll come with you.”

“Don't bother. We have nothing to talk about.” Michael stalked off, hands in his pockets.

“It's just as well. I doubt I could hear anything over the sound of your self-righteousness!” Angus took a few long steps and caught up with him.

Still in the car, Suki reached back for her camera bag, which she had stowed behind her seat. She took out the camera and rested it on the frame of her open window. “Portrait of two assholes,” she muttered, focusing on the two men walking rigidly away from her.