The Portrait of Doreene Gray (6 page)

Finally Maureene shut the dog inside and led the way down the path. She took a narrow shortcut through the woods that led to the side of the house. They went up the stairs and into the conservatory.

Doreene and Reynaldo sat at the oak dining table. As the staff from
Tripping
entered, Doreene gave her sister a look made of equal parts disbelief and anger.

Reynaldo's face lit up. “It is my new friends!” he said, tossing his napkin onto the table and getting up. He came around and clasped Michael's hand, then patted his shoulder. “Come in, sit down!”

Doreene raised her voice to be heard over Reynaldo's enthusiastic greetings. “I hate to be rude, Maureene, but were your friends planning on having lunch? I don't want to inconvenience Lupita with extra people.”

“It's okay,” Maureene said, as Reynaldo kissed her cheek. “I told her I might have guests. I'll go check that everything's okay.” She went through an open door at the back of the room.

Reynaldo shook Angus's and Suki's hands, then waved them into chairs. “Are you liking this weather? I tell my
princessa
it's a good thing she is my sunshine, or I could not have moved here with her.” He laughed gaily.

“Oh, so you're planning on staying in Port Townsend?” Michael asked.

Reynaldo took Doreene's hand and kissed it. “Why would I go?”

Angus cleared his throat, but Doreene spoke before he could.

“So, Mr. MacGregor,” she said. “How long are you staying in Port Townsend?”

“Please, call me Angus. We're here until after weekend.”

Lupita entered with a tray of extra dishes and put place settings in front of the newcomers.

“I imagine you'll spend most of your time at the Wooden Boat Festival,” Doreene said over the clatter of china.

Maureene returned from the kitchen with a handful of cloth napkins, which she passed to Angus and the others. “Have you been to Fort Worden yet? There's a nice lighthouse there. Reynaldo, I've been meaning to ask if you'd like me to take you there.”

“
I'll
take Reynaldo, if he wants.” Doreene ran a finger down Reynaldo's cheek.

He gave her a smoldering look. “I will let you take me.”

Lupita muttered something as she put the last fork on the table.

“What did you say, Lupita?” Doreene snapped.

“Nothing.” Lupita coughed. “Something in my throat.” She disappeared through the door to the kitchen.

“Pay her no attention,
cara,
” Reynaldo murmured. “In Brazil, we have a saying—
one man's happiness is another man's sadness.
”

“We have a saying in Boulder,” Suki said.
“Always lock your bike.”

Reynaldo looked confused.

Lupita entered with a tureen, steam trailing from the surface. “Chicken noodle soup.” She put it on the sideboard and took Doreene's bowl to fill.

Angus looked around. “Where's the little dog? Gigi, wasn't it?”

“Upstairs,” Doreene said. “I don't like it when she begs.” She watched Lupita ladle soup into her dish. “Lupita, I'm expecting someone important this afternoon. Make sure you find me when she comes.”

Lupita set the bowl in front of Doreene and took Reynaldo's dish. “What's the name?”

“Rita Ledger. She's a Realtor. I'm selling the house.”

The ladle clattered against the side of the tureen.

Maureene leaned toward her sister and spoke in a low, tense voice. “What do you mean, you're selling the house?”

Doreene smiled at her. “Someone will give me money, and in return, I will give them the house.”

“But you can't do that!”

“Of course I can. It's my house.”

“And where will I live?”

“You should do what I do and just … travel.” Doreene lifted her arms luxuriantly on the last word. “It would do you good to get out of the country.”

Maureene gaped at her for a moment. Then she rose abruptly, napkin falling from her lap to the floor, and left.

Doreene turned to Angus. “Have you traveled much, Angus? Apart from coming to the United States, obviously.”

Angus smiled tentatively at Lupita as she put a bowl in front of him, but her face remained rigid. “Um, I toured Europe as a young man.”

“Oh, you should do it again. I'm sure things have changed radically since then.” Doreene glanced around the table. “Is everyone served? Then
bon appétit
!”

Silence descended, except for the clink of spoons on bowls. Reynaldo darted nervous glances at Doreene. Michael, Angus, and Suki exchanged looks.

Michael coughed slightly, then held his napkin to his face and removed something from his mouth. A moment later, Angus did the same thing.

Doreene took a mouthful of soup and chewed determinedly. Reynaldo poked suspiciously at the noodles in his bowl.

Suki, not bothering to cover her face with her napkin, pulled something long and skinny from her mouth and held it up. “What the hell?”

Doreene spat something into her hand and yelled, “Lupita!”

“It's paper,” Suki said, laying the strip flat on the table. She picked up an end and tore it experimentally. “Or vellum, because paper doesn't hold up that well.” She picked up her camera from the floor near her chair and stood to take a picture of the strip.

“Lupita!” Doreene shouted again.

Angus and Michael opened their napkins and investigated the contents while Reynaldo fished a strip of paper out of his soup with his spoon.

Lupita came running into the room. “What?”

Doreene held up a scrap of paper and shook it. “You're fired!”

“
Que?
Why?!”

“This has writing on it.” Michael took off his glasses and held a strip up to the light. “‘Soul, night, lost…'”

Suki turned her strip over. “Oh, hey, look at that.” She took another photo.

Doreene's face was red. “Why is there
paper
in the soup, Lupita?”

Lupita squinted at her in apparent incomprehension. “There's no paper. It's noodles.”

Angus squinted at the faded writing on his strip. “‘Satan, Beelzebub,
El Diablo
…'”

Lupita and Reynaldo crossed themselves simultaneously.

“Dios mio,”
Lupita moaned.

Reynaldo closed his eyes and rocked back and forth, murmuring rapidly in Portuguese.

“Lupita, get your things and get out,” Doreene ordered.

“But I didn't put paper in the soup!” she wailed.

“Then who did?!”

“I don't know, but it wasn't me, I swear!” Lupita clasped her hands to her chest.

Doreene stared at her, breathing heavily, then crumpled the bit of paper in her hand. “Maureene must have done it. She went into the kitchen.”

Angus spoke to Lupita. “How long has the soup been in the kitchen?”

“Since this morning. Miss Doreene told me yesterday that she wanted chicken noodle soup.”

“And who else has been in the kitchen today, besides Maureene?”

Lupita bit her lip in thought. “Mr. Reynaldo came in and asked where we put the scissors.”

Doreene turned on Reynaldo. “It was you?”

“
Cara,
no! I had a thread on my sleeve I wanted to cut.” He raised his forearm.

“That's true,” Lupita said. “He showed it to me.”

“Anyone else?” Angus asked.

Lupita looked at Doreene, one shoulder hunched. “Miss Doreene did, to tell me not to put too much salt in.”

“I wouldn't put paper in my own soup,” Doreene said scathingly.

“No, ma'am.”

“Was the back door to the house locked?” Michael asked.

Lupita shook her head. “I'm supposed to leave it open during the day, for Miss Maureene.”

“I never told you to do that!” Doreene said.

“She did, a long time ago. You're not here a lot, so I thought it was okay.”

“And were you in the kitchen all the time the soup was cooking?” Angus asked.

“No,” Lupita said. “When the soup was cooking, I went to clean the rooms.” She sniffed wetly. “Please don't fire me, Miss Doreene.”

Doreene stared into space and heaved a sigh. “I suppose you can stay on until I sell the house, but I'll be watching you.” She glared at Lupita.

“You want the rest of the food?” Lupita asked, voice quavering.

“No.” Doreene waved her hand in a shooing motion.

Lupita left the room, head bent. A moment later, the sounds of muffled sobs could be heard from the kitchen.

Reynaldo put his hand on Doreene's arm. “
Cara
 … It is the painting doing this. You have to get rid of it.”

Doreene rolled her eyes at him. “I
am
getting rid of it.”

“No, I mean now.” He gripped her wrist. “Take it out and burn it.”

Doreene jerked away. “Don't be stupid. It's worth a fortune.”

Reynaldo gazed at her solemnly. “What is your soul worth,
princessa
?”

Doreene's lips twitched, and then she laughed. “Oh, Reynaldo, you provincial little boy.” She patted his cheek, and he turned his face away. “This isn't the Devil, it's just someone with a grudge.”

“A what?”

“Never mind.” She tapped her fingers on the table, then looked at Angus. “You say you're in Port Townsend through the weekend?”

He nodded.

“Why don't you stay here, at the house? Maybe you can figure out what's behind this.”

“We're not paranormal investigators,” Angus said.

Suki nodded. “They'd probably get paid.”

“All right, here's the deal,” Doreene said. “Stay here and be nosy. You're good at that. In return, you can write whatever story you like, as long as it's not in print until after the painting is sold.”

“And when is that?”

“A month from now.”

“I'll need to confer with my staff,” Angus said, pushing his chair back.

“Go ahead.” Doreene waved them away.

Angus, Suki, and Michael went outside and stood at the bottom of the steps.

“What do you think?” Angus murmured.

Michael glanced back at the conservatory. “Considering
Tripping
only comes out bimonthly, I don't see a problem with waiting that long to publish.”

Angus frowned. “Aside from the fact that she's a right old bitch and I hate to help her. Is there anything else we can get out of the deal?”

“Meals?” Michael asked.

Angus and Suki gave him a look.

“Okay, maybe not. Permission to interview Reynaldo?”

“Also, some good photos of the painting,” Suki suggested. “She might as well give us that if we're not going to publish until after it's sold.”

“Those are both good ideas.” Angus stood up straighter. “All right, let's go back.”

In the conservatory, the table was mostly cleared, and the clatter of dishes came from the neighboring kitchen.

Reynaldo leaned close to Doreene, whispering urgently. Doreene pushed him away as the others entered the room.

“We'll stay,” Angus announced, “on two conditions.”

Doreene narrowed her eyes. “Conditions? I don't think so. You need the story.”

“We have enough for a story. In fact, it's not in our best interests to hang about and debunk your uncanny artwork. So our conditions are, first, that we are allowed to take some good, close-up photos of the painting.”

“No.”

“It shouldn't matter, since we're not going to publish—”

“Forget it,” Doreene said. “You can leave right now, as far as I'm concerned.”

Angus took a deep breath through his nose. “All right, then how about an interview with Reynaldo?”

Reynaldo shook his head infinitesimally.

Doreene smiled at him. “Why not? Reynaldo, you don't mind playing host, do you?”

Reynaldo shook his head, his expression was miserable.

“And now I have to call Max and arrange some things.” She got up. “Make yourself at home.”

Reynaldo watched her go. Then he pushed a folded napkin along the table, toward Angus. “She said to give you the paper from the soup. Lupita found the rest, so they are all here.”

Angus took the napkin. “Did Doreene look at them? Did they mean anything to her?”

Reynaldo shook his head. “She said it was nonsense.” He looked at Angus with something like despair. “She doesn't see that the painting is evil.”

“Maybe it would help to talk about it. Would you like to do the interview now?”

“I would rather not.” Reynaldo pushed himself to his feet. “We have another saying in Brazil.
Words will not pollute the soup.
But I am not in Brazil anymore.” He smiled sadly.

They watched him walk slowly from the room, his beautiful figure drooping.

“Words will not pollute the soup?”
Suki said. “What the hell does that mean?”

Michael looked at Angus. “What do we do now? Get our stuff from the motel?”

“Soon,” Angus said thoughtfully. “But first, I think we should find Maureene before she has a chance to cool down. We might get more out of her if she's angry.”

But when they got to Maureen's cottage, no one answered the door, and no barking came from inside.

“Now what?” Suki asked.

Angus put his hands in his jacket pockets. “Let's wait a bit. She might have taken Hilda for a walk. If so, they shouldn't be gone long. Those wee terrier legs can't go too far.”

There was no lawn furniture, not even a stump to sit on, so they walked about aimlessly.

“Anyone have any guesses as to who put the paper in the soup?” Michael asked, kicking a fallen twig.

“Supernatural forces,” Angus said firmly. “Remember who pays your salary.”