The Portrait of Doreene Gray (26 page)

Michael stood in the middle of the room and gazed around. “Smoking. Fire.” He pointed to the decorative mantel over the small fireplace.
“Fireplace.”

“Ooh, good idea!” Suki moved as if to join him.

“You stay right there,” Michael said, going over to the fireplace. “You're always finding stuff.” He took off his glasses and examined the carved mantel, then hooked his fingers under a center section and pulled. It came off in his hands with a scrape of wood on wood. “Eureka.”

Suki and Angus hurried over to look.

A cavity of about three by six inches lay revealed. Michael put his hand inside and pulled out a folded half-sheet of paper.

“Remind me to give you a gold star,” Angus said. “What's it say?”

“It isn't addressed to anyone. The signature says Doreene.” Michael squinted at the page. “She didn't have the greatest handwriting.”

Suki held out a hand. “I'm really good at reading difficult handwriting.”

Michael turned slightly away from her. “I can do it.” He read haltingly. “‘I'm sure you think I made the wrong choice, but I haven't. You may be my sister, but you have no right to question my decision. If I wasn't confident that it was the right thing to do, I would have died rather than given up, but this was the right thing to do. Don't count on any financial help.'” He turned the paper over. “And that's it.”

“A bit tetchier than your usual suicide note,” Angus said, taking it from Michael.

“Maybe it's not really Doreene's writing,” Suki said. “Hold on. I saw some notes on her dressing table.” She came back with a scrap of paper. “Here. Looks like the packing list for a trip.”

Angus compared the two. “It's the same handwriting—a little more rushed and emotional in the note, as you might expect.” He pointed to an angry-looking scribble between
given
and
up.
“See where she made a mistake and almost gouged the paper scratching it out?”

“I can't believe she said, ‘Don't count on any financial help,'” Michael said. “Leave it to Doreene to get in one last dig. Maybe Hank will share some of the inheritance with Maureene.”

Suki leaned over so she could see the note in Angus's hand. “The language is weird. ‘I would have died rather than given up.' It amounted to the same thing in the end, didn't it?”

Angus nodded thoughtfully. “She could have already taken the pills when she wrote this. If she was disoriented, that would explain why she hid the note instead of leaving it out for someone to find.”

“Or this might have been a first draft,” Michael suggested, “and she died before writing something else.” He looked at Suki. “Were there any other notes on the dressing table?”

“Just a few reminders about appointments, plus blank scraps of paper—most of them torn off larger pieces, like this.” She tapped the rough top edge of the note Michael had found.

“Just goes to show that a lot of debt can turn anyone into an environmentalist,” Michael said. He reached into the space and felt around again. “There's nothing else.”

They took the note downstairs and found Maureene in the conservatory, having another cup of coffee.

She read it silently, lips pressed together. Finally she lowered the note and rubbed at a furrow between her brows. “I almost wish you hadn't found this.”

“Is that Doreene's signature?” Michael asked.

“Yes.” She gave the piece of paper back to Angus. “I suppose you'd better take this to the police station.”

“You don't want to take it?” Michael asked.

Maureene shook her head wearily. “I will if you insist, but I'm worn out with answering questions, and Kroger isn't going to like that the note was found because I had a dream. He gets this
look
whenever anything supernatural comes up.” She glanced at Michael. “That's it exactly. You do a great impression.”

“That's Michael's normal look,” Suki said.

“We'll be happy to take it to the detective,” Angus said.

“I appreciate that,” Maureene said. “Just tell him I gave you permission to look around Doreene's room, and you ran across it.”

“Do you want to make a copy first?” Michael asked. “You might not get it back for a while.”

“No.” Maureene closed her eyes briefly. “I don't need any reminders of how my sister felt, trust me.”

*   *   *

The staff of
Tripping
went to the police station and met Maxwell Thorne coming out.

“What brings you here?” he asked them.

“We found what appears to be Doreene's suicide note,” Angus said. “Ms. Pinter had a dream that led us to it.”

Max's eyebrows rose. “Fascinating. Well, it's bound to help Enrico. Have you heard about that? Enrico is really Doreene Gray's ex-husband, Hank Gray!”

“We found out last night,” Angus said. “Why are you here, if I may ask?”

“The portrait is still in the evidence room, and when I called and asked how they were storing it, they told me it was leaning against a wall, next to a blood-spattered card table and a mini-trampoline.” He shook his head in amazement. “I suggested that if they didn't want to be sued, they might want to protect it a little more, so I brought the shipping box that Rothwell's made for it.”

“Were you able to see the portrait?” Angus asked. “Has it changed any further?”

Max smiled. “I did see it, and it hasn't changed, luckily for the police. If there had been any damage…”

“Do you know if Hank Gray is still here?” Michael asked.

Max nodded. “I saw him waiting in a room, but I wasn't allowed to go in.” He looked thoughtful. “You know, I met Hank several times when he and Doreene were still together, and I never would have recognized him. It's an amazing transformation.”

“Do you have any idea what really happened in Argentina?” Angus asked.

“None whatsoever.” Max glanced at his watch. “Do you think it would be all right to stop by the house and see how Maureene is?”

Angus nodded. “She might welcome the distraction.”

“Especially if Lyndsay has come home,” Michael put in. “Apparently she and Reynaldo left this morning before Hank made his big confession.”

“So they don't know yet?” Max asked.

“I don't believe so,” Angus said.

Max drew his breath in on a whistle. “You're certainly not short on excitement in that house.” He lifted his hand. “If we don't see each other again before you leave, I hope everything goes well.”

“Thanks,” Angus said. “The same to you.”

Inside, Angus handed his card to the officer behind the front desk. “Would you tell Detective Kroger that the people from
Tripping
magazine are here, and we've found what appears to be Doreene Gray's suicide note?”

The officer pushed a button on the phone and paged Detective Kroger.

Detective Kroger appeared about ten minutes later and took them to a room with enough chairs that they could all sit around a worn-looking table.

After they were settled, he held out his hand. “Let's see this note.”

Angus gave it to him. “We found it in Doreene's room. Maureene gave us permission to look around.”

“You should have asked me for permission.”

“I'm very sorry,” Angus said. “There seemed to be an understanding in the house that Doreene's death is considered a suicide.”

“There's no official statement yet.” Kroger looked at the note long enough to read it several times. “Where did you find this?”

“There was a hidden compartment in the mantelpiece, and the note was inside.”

Kroger turned the note over, then back. “There's no salutation, and it looks as though something was torn off the top.”

“We found a lot of torn-off paper on Doreene's dressing table,” Angus said. “It appeared she was in the habit of using the blank parts of larger sheets as scrap paper.”

Kroger grunted. “You'd think she'd want something more formal for the last letter she'd ever write. The language is kind of weird, too.”

Angus nodded. “We wondered if she'd already taken the drugs and was starting to feel disoriented.”

“I think she'd be more sleepy than disoriented, but I'll check with her doctor.” Kroger put the note on the table and stared at it.

“We heard that Enrico told you that he's Hank Gray,” Michael said.

Kroger's head came up quickly. “I meant to ask—how did you find out?”

Angus answered. “I found Doreene's wedding album while you were meeting with Enrico and recognized him in a photo. He's wearing brown contacts, right?”

Kroger nodded. “Now that you know, do you think he had anything to do with Doreene's death?”

“He certainly has more motive,” Angus said. “Has anything changed in terms of his alibi?”

Kroger's mouth lifted on one side. “No, but it definitely changes his opportunity. Turns out the code to Doreene's locked room is the date of her wedding to Hank.”

“Ah,” Angus said. “That is suggestive.”

“On the other hand, Hank's fingerprints weren't on the prescription bottle. Doreene's and a few of Reynaldo's, but not Hank or Maureene. Also, we got the results of a blood test back. It looks as though Ms. Gray had only a little more than a regular dose of painkillers in her system. I would have said it looked less like suicide and more like an accidental overdose until you turned up with this note.” He flicked the paper.

“Are you going to release Hank Gray?” Michael asked.

Kroger nodded. “There's still no compelling reason to believe that Doreene Gray's death was anything but an accident.”

Angus studied him. “What do
you
think?”

“I think it could go either way.” Kroger tapped the note they'd brought in. “I wish stuff like this didn't keep turning up. People who commit suicide either don't write notes or they put them where people can find them. They don't hide them.”

“Maybe they hide notes all the time, but you don't find them,” Suki said.

Kroger stared at her.

Angus cleared his throat. “We had help finding this note. Maureene dreamed about Doreene last night. In the dream, Doreene sat in her bedroom and talked about something hidden. She also smoked a cigarette, but she wasn't a smoker in real life.”

“Was the smoking a clue?” Kroger asked.

Michael lifted a hand. “Smoking, smoke, fire, fireplace. The note was hidden in the mantelpiece.”

“Clever. Did Maureene figure that out?”

“No, I did.”

“Good for you.” Kroger checked his watch. “I'm taking Hank Gray back to the house in about forty-five minutes. Baumgartner is going to meet us there and tell everyone how this affects the will.”

“Do Lyndsay and Reynaldo know they should be there?” Angus asked. “Apparently they left the house before Enrico revealed himself as Hank.”

Kroger nodded. “Baumgartner told them to meet him there. He hasn't told them Enrico is Doreene's husband yet. Should be interesting.” He picked up a stack of papers and fussed with them, straightening the edges. “Maybe I'll see you there.”

*   *   *

“Was Kroger hinting that we should try to hear how the will changes?” Michael asked as Suki drove them back to the house. “I don't see how we can. It's a family matter, which is why they had it in the conservatory with the door shut. It's not like we can hide under the table.”

Angus looked out the window thoughtfully. “What's the second room they'd most likely meet in?”

“The ballroom where Doreene had the press conference,” Suki said. “It has a kind of circle of chairs and love seats.”

Angus crossed his arms and nodded slowly. “Leave it to me.”

There was a short silence.

“Leave what to you?” Michael asked.

“The room. Hearing the will.” Angus rolled his eyes. “Do I have to spell everything out?”

“Yes!” Michael said. “You can't say something cryptic like that and expect us not to ask.”

“I'm up for hiding under a table,” Suki said, “but it has to have a long tablecloth or you're screwed.”

Michael leaned between the two front seats. “Are you planning to make the conservatory uncomfortable somehow? You're not going to damage anything, are you, Angus?”

Angus gave him an affronted look. “I'm still thinking about it, all right? That's why I said ‘leave it to me.' It's a general statement of intent.” He looked out the window again. “Man.”

Ten minutes later, they walked into the foyer of the house.

Suki heard the clatter of claws on hardwood and looked toward the stairs.

Gigi jumped down the last two steps and ran toward the closed door. She looked back at them, lifting one paw and then the other. Then she whined and scratched at the woodwork.

Suki stalked toward the front door. “I wonder when she was last taken out.” She looked around the entryway. “And there's still no damn leash.”

Angus came over and picked up the dog, who squirmed. “I'll take care of her.”

“I don't
mind
doing it,” Suki said, reaching for Gigi. “It just pisses me off that no one is caring for her.”

“I know.” He smiled and winked.
“Leave it to me.”

Suki lowered her arms. “Okay…”

Angus walked briskly through the house to the kitchen, carrying Gigi. The kitchen door was closed. He pushed it open cautiously.

Lupita turned from stacking cups on a tray and gave Angus a harried look. “I can't have the Chihuahuita in here right now. I almost stepped on her.”

“That's fine,” Angus said. “I'm on my way to take her outside, and thought you might have a leash.” He looked down at the dog, who was squirming desperately. “And perhaps a small plastic bag.”