The Portrait of Doreene Gray (25 page)

Angus moved to block the door. “Now?”

“Yes, now! What if Hank came here to kill Doreene?”

“Leaving aside the fact that Doreene overdosed in a locked room, why on earth would Hank do that?”

“Because she wouldn't give him the painting,” Michael said.

“But killing her didn't help Enrico—sorry, Hank—get the painting,” Angus pointed out, “because Reynaldo is considered the legal heir. Hank
knew
that, because he was there when Reynaldo spilled the beans about their marriage.”

“If Reynaldo is the only one between Hank and the painting, he might be in danger.” Michael motioned for Angus to get away from the door. “Now move.”

Angus grimaced. “Fine.” He turned and pulled open the door.

“You kids have fun,” Suki said through a yawn. “I'm going back to bed.”

As Angus and Michael trooped downstairs, Angus said, “
I'll
tell Kroger. I'm the one who worked it out, after all.”

“As long as someone tells him.”

They found Officer Madison standing outside the closed door to the ballroom.

“Is Detective Kroger in there?” Angus asked.

“Yes, sir.”

Michael bounced impatiently on his feet. “Tell him we have some vital information.”

“Hush!” Angus said. “
I'm
going to tell him.”

“I didn't say anything important,” Michael said. “Anyway, it's not Kroger, it's just Officer Madison.” He looked at the policeman. “No offense.”

“None taken, sir. Detective Kroger told me he doesn't want to be disturbed unless it's a life-or-death situation. Is this a life-or-death situation?”

“No,” Angus said.

“At least, probably not right away,” Michael hedged.

“Then I'll tell him you want to see him as soon as he comes out,” Officer Madison said.

“That'll be fine.” Angus patted his pockets. “Must have left my phone upstairs.”

Michael leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “Go ahead and call your buddy at the
Star,
but can you really trust this person not to take the story and run?”

“Absolutely,” Angus said. “He's an old friend.” He trotted toward the stairs.

He was back ten minutes later.

Michael had found a chair and put it against the wall so he could sit while he waited. He looked up at Angus. “Well?”

“Apparently he doesn't work there anymore.” Angus looked at Officer Madison. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“That's very kind, but I've already had three, sir.”

“Can you tell me what time it is?”

Officer Madison checked his watch. “Three-thirty, sir.”

Angus reached in his pants pocket and took out a business card. “Will you ask Detective Kroger to call me when he's free, please? Come on, Michael. We might as well get a few hours sleep.”

*   *   *

Several hours later, Angus and Michael met on their way to the kitchen, where they found Lupita yawning into her hand. She had changed out of her bathrobe and wore her powder-blue uniform.

“I wondered if there was any coffee,” Angus said.

“I just made a new pot.” She filled a mug and gave it to him.

“Where is everyone?” Michael asked.

“Maureene took a cup of coffee back to her house, Enrico is in a meeting with Detective Kroger, and Lyndsay—”

“Wait, Enrico is
where
?” Michael asked.

Angus looked up from pouring cream in his coffee.

“In a meeting with Detective Kroger.” Lupita handed Michael a mug of coffee.

Michael started to say something, but Angus caught his eye and shook his head slightly.

Angus picked up a spoon and stirred his coffee. “You know about Enrico, right, Lupita?”

“Know what?” Lupita asked warily.

“Who he used to be.” Angus sipped his coffee, looking at her over the edge of his cup.

Lupita stepped closer. “You mean, like someone with a different name?”

Angus set his cup on the counter. “Someone with a different name who was very close to this family, in fact.”

Lupita gave a little bounce. “You know, too!”

Angus lowered his voice. “We saw Doreene's wedding album.”

“Does Lyndsay know who he really is?” Michael asked.

Lupita chewed her lip. “I don't know. He was gone before she was born.”

“Didn't she ever look at family pictures?”

“Maybe when she was a girl,” Lupita said, “but that was a long time ago, and why would Lyndsay pay attention to a dead uncle in a photograph?”

Angus nodded. “She probably wouldn't recognize him years later, looking so changed.”

Lupita glanced toward the door to the rest of the house. “They've been in there half an hour.”

“Do you think he might be telling Detective Kroger who he really is?” Michael asked.

Lupita looked surprised. “What else would he be saying?”

“He could be trying to put the blame for Doreene's death on Reynaldo,” Michael said. “Lyndsay and Reynaldo were talking about selling the painting and the house and traveling together, which would leave Maureene without a place to live.”

“No!” Lupita said.

“Sí.”
Michael took a sip of coffee. “Enrico doesn't need to confess his identity to separate Reynaldo from the inheritance. He could make up a story about how, when he moved his car that night, he saw Reynaldo's shadow against the curtain as he killed Doreene.”

“I don't think there's a window in that closet,” Lupita said.

Michael shrugged. “You know what I mean.”

Lupita crossed her arms. “Reynaldo is stupid and wants money, but I don't think he would have killed Doreene.” She moved her hands to her hips and looked at Michael. “Anyway, they said it was suicide.”

“Or the spirits you saw that night,” Angus offered.

Lupita shuddered and crossed herself.

Michael narrowed his eyes at Lupita. “Why didn't
you
tell Kroger that Enrico is Hank Gray?”

“And lose my job?” Lupita shook her head. “Everyone says Doreene took too many pills, and I believe them. She had the cancer.”

Michael took a sip of coffee. “Well, if Enrico doesn't tell Kroger the truth, we will.”

“
I
will.” Angus raised his cup and smiled at Lupita. “Good coffee, by the way. I've been meaning to tell you that.”

“Thank you.”

They sipped in silence for a few minutes.

“I wonder what really happened to Enrico in Argentina,” Michael mused. “Do you think Detective Kroger will tell us if we ask?”

“Enrico may not tell him,” Angus said. “It might be up to the insurance company to demand that Hank Gray tell what happened in Argentina. In the meantime, all Hank has to say is, ‘I'm Doreene's husband and I'm not dead,' and Reynaldo gets absolutely hee haw.”

Michael laughed. “‘Hee haw'?”

“It means
nothing.
Reynaldo gets nothing.”

“If Reynaldo doesn't get the painting and the house, who will?” Lupita asked.

Michael looked at Angus. “I guess Hank would, unless Maureene wants to dispute that.”

Suki came into the kitchen, her hair wet and spiky. “Hey, did you know Enrico had a meeting with Detective Kroger?”

Angus pushed away from the counter. “‘Had'?”

“Yeah.” Suki took the cup of coffee Lupita handed her. “I ran into Kroger downstairs and told him Enrico was Hank, but he already knew.”

“
I
was going to—” Angus's phone rang, and he answered it. “Yes. She just told me. No, that was it.” He listened for a moment, then said good-bye and hung up. “Detective Kroger has asked Baumgartner to reexamine the will. In the meantime, they're taking Hank back to the station to ask him some questions.”

Suki chortled. “I can't wait to see Lyndsay's face when she finds out Reynaldo is getting squat.”

“Or
hee haw,
as the case may be.” Michael smirked at Angus.

Maureene came in through the conservatory door. She hesitated when she saw them gathered there, then strode forward. “Enrico told me he was going to speak with Detective Kroger this morning. Does anyone know if they're still talking?” She fiddled with the twist tie on a plastic sleeve of bagels, her back to them.

“Hank went to the station with Kroger, to answer some questions,” Suki said.

Maureene opened the cupboard and took out a plate. “They didn't arrest him, did they?”

“I didn't see any handcuffs,” Suki said.

Angus cleared his throat. “I'm sure Mr. Gray is just helping them clear up a few things, but apparently the will is going to change. Mr. Baumgartner may be here later.”

Maureene's shoulders relaxed slightly, and she turned to face them. “So you know. Does Lyndsay?”

Lupita shook her head. “She and Reynaldo went out earlier. I don't know where, but they left while Detective Kroger and Mr. Gray were still talking.”

Maureene let out a breath that wasn't quite a sigh. She handed the plated bagel to Lupita. “Would you put some cream cheese and a tomato on this, please?”

Lupita nodded and took it.

Maureene leaned back against the counter and looked at the floor. “I had a dream about Doreene last night, before all this craziness started.”

“Did you?” Angus asked. “The dead often speak to relatives through dreams.”

Maureene nodded slowly. “We were sitting on the bed in her room, talking, like when we were kids. There wasn't any of this…” She waved a hand. “Tension, I guess you'd call it.” She watched Lupita slice a tomato.

“Did you sense any emotions from her?” Angus asked gently. “Regret, perhaps, as to how things ended between you?”

Maureene gave a short laugh. “I wouldn't go that far. She kept pestering me about a secret spot. Something hidden.”

“The missing collage pieces from the portrait?” Angus asked.

“Maybe.” Maureene gave her head a frustrated shake. “I asked what she meant, but all she would say was ‘secret spot' and ‘something hidden,' over and over.”

“Spirits seem to have a lot of trouble getting their message across,” Michael said wryly. “Apparently dying really guts your vocabulary.”

“Do you know of any secret compartments in the house?” Angus asked.

Maureene shook her head. “No, but I moved into the cottage when our stepfather died. Doreene might have found some hidey-hole after that, and never told me.”

“Never told you while she was
alive,
” Angus said. “But she gave you a clue as to where to start looking—her bedroom, where the dream was set.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Maureene said. “Maybe I'll call the police and see if they want to look. I'm not ready to go through her things yet.”

“We can do it if you'd like,” Angus offered. “We're an objective party with no stake in the outcome, and Suki is a bit of a psychic.”

“What?” Suki looked up from reading a cereal box.

“I
said,
you're a bit of a psychic,” Angus repeated.

“Oh, right.” Suki waggled the fingers of one hand in the air. “Woo.”

Maureene pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I guess there's no harm in letting you look around, if you think it will do any good.” She took the plate Lupita handed her. “Let me know if you find anything.”

Angus lay a hand on her shoulder briefly. “Of course. And we'll be careful to put things back exactly as we found them. Can you think of anything else she said that might give us a clue?”

Maureene thought for a moment. “Not that she
said,
but she lit a cigarette, and Doreene never smoked when she was alive.”

“Guess she figured now was the time to take it up,” Michael said.

Angus put his empty cup in the sink. “Let's take a look, shall we?”

“Before breakfast?” Suki asked. “You know, my psychic thingie doesn't work right when I'm hungry.”

“Are you sure about that?” Angus asked.

“Very sure,” Suki said firmly.

 

Twenty-two

Lupita provided the staff of
Tripping
with a quick breakfast of cold cereal and toasted bagels. When they finished eating, they went upstairs.

Angus retrieved Doreene's wedding album from his bedroom. “Might as well put this back while we're at it.”

They entered the still, scented air of Doreene's room. Angus pulled the box out from under the bed and returned the album. “Lift the mattress while I look under it, will you?” he asked Michael.

Michael went to the end of the bed and held the mattress up while Angus checked between it and the box springs.

“Nothing,” Angus said.

Suki stood in the middle of the room, eyes closed. “Wooooo. Mmmmm.”

“You don't have to pretend to be psychic for us,” Michael said.

“Hey, if Angus is going to keep volunteering me for this gig, I want to have something worked up.”

Angus chuckled. “The humming is good, but I've never heard a psychic say ‘woo' before.”

“That'll set me apart, then. It's all about branding.” Suki went over to the dressing table, where she systematically looked through drawers and then pulled them out, checking their bottoms and the inside of the table itself.

While she did that, Michael looked behind pictures on the wall.

Angus examined the woodwork of the four-poster bed, then worked his way through the folds of its draperies. Letting the last curtain fall, he said, “What do you suppose it means that Doreene smoked in the dream?”

Michael straightened a picture. “Other than the fact that dreams don't make a lot of sense, nothing.”

Suki went to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. “She had cancer. Maybe she wanted Maureene to find her medical marijuana stash.”