The Portrait of Doreene Gray (34 page)

Lupita twisted her hands together. “I was upstairs cleaning and heard the front door close, so I looked out the window and saw him. That's all.”

“What gym does he go to?” Kroger asked, taking out his phone.

“The one on Monroe Street, I think,” Lupita said. “I saw him come out of there once.”

“Would he have driven or walked?”

“Walked. He didn't know how to drive, and anyway, there is Doreene's car.” Lupita pointed down the street in the other direction.

Kroger went back to his car, cell phone to his ear. He opened the door and sat, then leaned over to twiddle the radio.

“What's going on?” Lupita asked.

Angus started to answer.

Michael cut him off. “We shouldn't say anything.” He looked at Suki. “Was Lyndsay's car still warm?”

“Oh, yeah.”

They waited as Kroger had several animated conversations.

Finally he came back. “There's no sign of either of them.”

“What about Maxwell Thorne?” Michael asked. “He has a car. Could he have picked them up?”

Kroger seemed to notice Michael's grubby clothes and face for the first time. “Are you okay? I heard you got hit in the head.”

“It's just a headache and a lump,” Michael said.

Kroger nodded. “When I left the station, Maxwell Thorne had just gone to Alexander's Castle with one of my officers to pack up his things. I imagine he's there now.”

“Can you check and make sure?” Michael asked.

Kroger took his phone out, typed in a text message, and waited a bit. “He's still there. I don't think he has anything to do with this.”

Michael chewed his lip. “Max had breakfast with Lyndsay this morning. She said he was going to try to find her a job.”

“Don't forget Maureene,” Suki said. “She was sitting outside the restaurant in her car, watching the place. Lyndsay came out, said good-bye to Max, then went over to the car and talked to her mother. They might be on the run together.”

“We know where Maureene Pinter is,” Kroger said calmly.

“Where?” Michael asked.

“At Fort Worden.” He smiled. “She appears to be following Maxwell Thorne.”

Angus blew out a frustrated breath. “It's like a Pink Panther movie. All we need is the man in a gorilla suit.”

Michael looked at Kroger. “Hank Gray isn't out on bail, is he? He has a car.”

Kroger shook his head. “Hank is still locked up. Why are you asking about people besides Lyndsay?”

“Because Lyndsay's car is over there,” Michael pointed, “so presumably she needs someone to help her get out of town with the painting.”

Kroger's brows rose. “You think she has the portrait?”

Michael nodded. “One of them, anyway.”

 

Twenty-seven

They went back to Battery Kinzie with Detective Kroger, who wanted a description of what had happened.

Angus pointed to the piece of wood Michael had left on the ground in front of the building. “Here's the stick Lyndsay used on Michael.”

Kroger put on gloves and picked up the piece of driftwood, which was about three feet long. “That had to hurt.”

“It still hurts.” Michael led the way into the room, ducking under the concrete. “Can I borrow your phone?” he asked Suki. “We need some light.”

Suki got out her phone and tapped the screen a few times until it lit up brightly.

Michael took it from her outstretched hand and stepped into the tunnel's dark opening. “This way.”

They walked in single file, Michael first, then Kroger, then Suki and Angus.

Michael turned a corner and stopped. “Here's where I fell.” He scanned the floor with the light, stopping when he saw a pale square next to the wall. “There's my phone.” He picked it up and pressed something. The screen lit up. “Still works.”

“What's that up ahead?” Kroger asked, pointing.

Michael aimed both phones farther down the tunnel, creating weird, angular shadows. “Looks like a rock.”

They moved forward in a tight bunch, Suki and Angus trying to see over the shoulders of the two men in front.

It was a broken piece of cement block.

Kroger stared at it. “I'm pretty sure that wasn't there when we searched the place before.”

“Kids might have brought it in,” Angus suggested.

“It's about where Lyndsay was standing.” Michael shone light on top of the cement hunk. “Look. There are streaks of mud on top, like she stood on it for some reason.” He swept the light up to the ceiling.

The concrete walls of the tunnel were black with mold and grime—except for two pale marks on either side, near the top, where something rough had scraped the concrete clean.

Kroger pushed carefully past Michael and stood on top of the cement chunk. He raised the piece of driftwood he still carried and held it near the top of the tunnel, where it lined up with the pale marks. “I'll be damned.”

Suki raised her camera and took photos of the ceiling and the cement block.

Michael winced as the flash went off. “Lyndsay could have covered the canvas portrait in a black plastic bag and folded it around the stick. Then she wedged the stick at the top of the tunnel.”

“Wait a minute,” Angus said. “
Max
is the one who told Hank that the portrait was in the tunnel, and
Max
is the one who had breakfast with Lyndsay this morning, not long before she came here. He could have told her where the painting was and asked her to get it because he knew Maureene was watching him.”

“That would make sense,” Kroger said, “except that he has a great alibi for the night the portrait changed—or was stolen and replaced. We'll keep an eye on him, but I don't like to bring people in on the basis of coincidence.”

“Is it possible Lyndsay was
hiding
the portrait instead of retrieving it?” Michael asked. “Since the police have already searched here, she might have thought it was the last place anyone would look. Then I interrupted her, so she hit me and took off.”

Kroger nodded thoughtfully. “Another possibility.” He reached into his pocket, took out another pair of latex gloves, and held them out. “Can someone put these on and carry the cement block outside?”

Angus carried the block to Kroger's car, where he put it on the floor with a thump. He took off the gloves and tossed them in as well.

Kroger took a sheet of plastic from a kit in the trunk and wrapped the stick before laying it across the backseat. “I'm surprised they haven't found Lyndsay or Reynaldo yet,” he said, checking his phone for messages. “There are very few roads off this peninsula, and we have people watching them. I also told the guys at the Jefferson County airport to keep an eye out for her.”

“What about boats?” Suki asked.

Kroger nodded. “I alerted the ferry stations, too.”

“No, I mean regular boats,” Suki said. “All those big cruisers that came here for the boat festival. Some of them go a long way, right?”

Kroger stared at her for a moment, then raised his phone and tapped frantically at the screen.

“Do they even go through customs?” Suki wondered aloud.

Kroger went to the front of the car, still holding his cell phone to his ear. “Ships have been leaving that marina all morning. I could kick myself.” He opened the driver's door of the police car and slid in. “It's Kroger,” he said, paying sudden attention to his phone. “Call the Point Hudson harbor master and find out what boats left in the last hour and a half.” He tossed the phone on the passenger seat and started the car.

“Wait!” Michael leaned against the door, clutching his small pocket notebook. “Reynaldo met some friends at the festival. They were in the middle of a big trip and asked if he could crew for them.”

Kroger looked up at him. “Do you know the name of the ship?”

“I wrote it down.” Michael flipped pages. “The
Rachel Diana.
” He stepped away from the car as Kroger put it into gear. A moment later, the police cruiser sped out of the parking lot and back toward town.

*   *   *

Suki followed Kroger as best she could and parked on Water Street, not too far from the marina. She and Angus got out of the van and ran toward the dock.

“Do you think Michael will get some kind of public-service citation?” Suki panted.

“God, I hope not,” Angus said. “He's arrogant enough as it is.” He looked back to where Michael trotted gingerly behind them, one hand to his head as if to keep it from falling off. “Come along, Michael!”

Michael grimaced and made a shooing gesture, to signal they shouldn't wait.

“He'll catch up,” Angus said.

They found Detective Kroger standing at the end of the dock, along with a leather-skinned woman with short white hair, who stared out at the water through a pair of binoculars. She looked around sixty, and wore jeans and a canvas jacket.

“Do boats have to clear customs?” Suki asked Kroger as she and Angus came to a stop beside him.

The woman lowered her binoculars. “Not on the way out.”

Kroger made the introductions. “Suki Oota, Angus MacGregor, this is the harbor master, Karen Cullough. Karen, these are the people from the magazine.”

Michael joined them in time to have his hand shaken. “Did you find them?”

Cullough resumed staring at the water. “The Coast Guard is bringing the
Rachel Diana
in now.”

“Did you tell them not to let anyone throw anything overboard?” Michael asked.

Cullough's mouth quirked. “They know that, trust me.” She lowered the binoculars and turned. “We might as well go inside. It'll be another thirty minutes, motoring.”

Cullough led the way inside a two-story L-shaped building. A balcony ran the length of the back side, and windows ran all along the top floor.

“Have a seat.” She gestured to a table. “I'll get some coffee.”

Kroger and the
Tripping
crew sat as Cullough went over to a coffeemaker that sat on top of a file cabinet.

A meticulously drawn boat plan lay on the table. Michael slid it carefully to one side. “This looks complicated.”

Kroger glanced at the drawing. “That's a kayak.”

“Oh.”

Cullough came back with three paper cups on a tray, plus sugar and cream. “To be fair, it's a very nice kayak. Five kinds of wood. Do you boat, son?”

Michael shook his head. “I've often thought it would be nice.”

She chortled. “You could call it nice. It's also expensive, time-consuming, and dangerous. But spend enough time on the water, and the water gets in your blood.” She passed out the cups. “I know the people who own the
Rachel Diana.
Sissy and Paul. I hope they're not in any trouble.”

Kroger blew on his coffee. “I doubt they're involved, but don't say anything when they get here, Karen. You might think you're doing them a favor, but if they get confused and say something they don't mean, it could make things worse for them.”

She sipped her coffee. “Noted.”

*   *   *

Eventually the ships arrived, the
Rachel Diana
nosing into the marina while the Coast Guard ship blocked the entrance behind her.

Officer Madison had joined the group waiting on the dock. He and Detective Kroger walked down the pier toward the two Coast Guard officers who stood on board the captive ship. “Permission to come aboard?” Kroger asked.

One of the Coast Guard men unclipped a line and waved the police onto the
Rachel Diana
's deck.

The staff of
Tripping
had been asked to wait at the Maritime Center.

Suki put a telephoto lens on her camera and set up her tripod on the top floor, behind a huge window. “This would be way better if someone had a sword between his teeth,” she said, eye to the lens.

“What are they doing?” Angus asked.

“Kroger and the other cop went into a cabiny sort of thing. Here comes someone. It's not Reynaldo or Lyndsay.”

“Must be the owners,” Michael said.

Suki tweaked her lens slightly. “Man, those Coast Guards are buff.”

“Are you looking at the right boat?” Michael asked.

“Of course I am. Oh, there they are. Reynaldo and Lyndsay.” Suki held her finger down on the shutter. The camera whirred as it took multiple frames.

“Are they carrying anything?” Angus asked.

“No.” Suki's grin spread beneath the camera. “But Kroger is. It looks like a rolled-up canvas.”

*   *   *

Detective Kroger sat in the interrogation room once more while the staff of
Tripping
magazine watched through the video monitor.

Reynaldo sat across the table from Kroger, his face drawn and fearful.

Detective Kroger paged through a sheaf of papers. “I have to tell you, Mr. Cruz, your situation is not good. You married a rich older woman, and shortly afterward, she died mysteriously.” He looked at Reynaldo over the top of the paper. “Only Doreene wasn't really your wife, was she?”

“I thought we were married.” Reynaldo's voice was barely audible.

Kroger flipped to another sheet and shook his head. “You fled the country with stolen artwork and a woman. Lyndsay Waring says you tricked her into getting on the
Rachel Diana.
Even if you had nothing to do with Doreene's death, you and your friends could face kidnapping charges.”

“Kidnapping?”
Reynaldo's voice was loud and clear now. “I told Lyndsay I had friends who could take me home to Brazil. I asked her to go with me, and at first she said no.” Reynaldo's voice became increasingly bitter, and his hands came up to gesture wildly. “This morning, Lyndsay calls and says now she wants to go. She tells me she has the portrait, and we can sell it in Brazil.”