The Portrait of Doreene Gray (24 page)

Kroger took it. “Not blood, I assume?”

“Definitely not, sir,” the officer responded.

“Ectoplasm, maybe,” Angus offered from across the room. “It does have color, occasionally.”

Kroger touched his finger to the edge of the plastic sheet where the red had been scraped up.

“I'd say it was crayon,” Madison volunteered, “but it spreads too easily. Also, it has a slightly pleasant scent. Some kind of pastel, maybe? From a children's art set?”

Kroger rubbed the sample between two fingers and studied the result. “I'm pretty sure it's lipstick.” He looked around the room. “I'm sure the women here won't mind if we take a look at their cosmetics, in the interest of clearing this up.”

“Go right ahead,” Lyndsay said.

“Mine is upstairs in my bathroom,” Suki volunteered.

“I don't wear lipstick,” Lupita said, “but you can check for yourselves.”

Kroger pointed to another cop. “Go upstairs with Ms. Medina. After you've checked her things, she can go back to bed.”

Lupita and the officer left.

Voices came from the hallway outside the room. Maureene and Enrico came in.

Maureene's gaze went immediately to her daughter. “Are you all right, Lyndsay?”

Lyndsay gave her a perfunctory smile. “Fine.” Her gaze traveled to Enrico and she gave him a bigger smile.

Kroger consulted his notepad. “Neither of you heard or saw anything unusual tonight?”

They both shook their heads.

“Where is it?” Enrico asked.

Kroger pointed to the other side of the room. “On that window. Take a look and let me know if it means anything to you.”

Enrico rested a hand on Maureene's back as they walked over to look at the handprint.

Kroger made a note and looked at Reynaldo. “I don't think there's much else we can do for now, Mr. Cruz. It is a little odd that we're dealing with lipstick. This seems like a kid's prank, and they usually use ketchup or paint—even that fake blood you get around Halloween. But you never know. Lipsticks fall out of cars, and kids are opportunists. One of them could have found it on the street and got the idea on the spot.”

Reynaldo's hands were clasped tightly. “You will look at Doreene's makeup, too, yes?”

Kroger's brows rose momentarily. “Sure.” He got to his feet and crossed the room to where Maureene and Enrico stood looking at the print. “Do either of you have any ideas about this?”

Enrico shrugged. “No.”

“How about you, Ms. Pinter?” Kroger asked.

Maureene shook her head. “Doreene didn't usually wear red lip color. And she always wore glosses—said they made you look younger.”

Kroger nodded. “All right. Ms. Pinter, we're checking all the women's lipsticks, just as a matter of form. Would you mind going back to your house with me briefly, to get it out of the way?”

“Of course not,” Maureene said.

Kroger looked at the others. “If the rest of you can stay here, I should be back very quickly, and then we'll be out of your hair.”

As Kroger and Maureene left, Enrico headed toward the sofa where Reynaldo and Lyndsay sat.

Angus went to the doorway. “Suki, Michael, can I talk to you for a moment?” He waved for them to join him in the hall. Once there, he murmured, “Maybe they'll say more with us out of the room.” He leaned against the wall just outside the door and angled his head, the better to eavesdrop.

Inside, Lyndsay said, “It was probably a kid playing a prank.”

Enrico's rumble wasn't as lighthearted. “Why were you sleeping here?”

“I got tired of the love seat after Maureene gave you the guest bed,” Lyndsay said.

“How is a couch here better than a couch at your mother's?” Enrico asked.

“It's bigger, for one thing,” Lyndsay snapped.

Reynaldo spoke. “Lyndsay did nothing to be ashamed of. I wanted someone to talk to—someone who knew Doreene.”

“You don't need to protect me, Rey,” Lyndsay broke in. “
I'm
the one who wanted to talk. Someone needed to tell Reynaldo to get away from this house.”

“I'm happy to help Reynaldo get back to Brazil,” Enrico said. “He knows that.”

“Lyndsay, do you want me to go away?” Reynaldo sounded hurt.

“
Madre de Dios,
spare me,” Enrico growled.

“It's not that I
want
you to go,” Lyndsay said. “It's what's best for you. Find love again. Sell the house and the painting and travel.”

“Wait just a minute—” Enrico said.

“Will you travel with me?” Reynaldo asked.

Lyndsay's response was gentle. “If you really want me to, I'd like that.”

“You can't sell the painting!” Enrico said. “It rightly belongs to Maureene!”

“No, it belongs to Doreene's husband,” Lyndsay said.

“And where is Maureene supposed to live if he sells the house?”

“My mother is a grown woman,” Lyndsay said impatiently. “She'll figure it out.”

“You are the most ungrateful child I have ever seen!” Enrico said. “Maureene has done nothing but try to help you your whole life—”

“You only think that because you weren't here.” Lyndsay's voice was flat.

“It will all be okay, Enrico.” Reynaldo sounded jubilant. “I will help Maureene just as she would have helped me.”

 

Twenty-one

Michael and Angus waited with Suki outside her room while Officer Madison searched her makeup bag.

The officer came out and nodded to her. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

“Happy to help,” she said. “If you find out what brand that was, let me know. I liked the color.”

He chuckled and went downstairs.

Angus rubbed his hands together. “Grab your camera, Suki, and let's take some pictures of that handprint.”

Suki looked at his gleeful expression. “Could you guys come in here for a minute first?”

They followed her inside and she closed the door. “I thought I wasn't going to tell you this, but I guess I am. Weird.”

“Tell us what?” Michael asked.

“I made the handprint,” Suki said.

Angus's face fell.

“Are you crazy?” Michael glanced nervously at the door. “Why would you do that?” he whispered.

“Because Lyndsay is a
shit,
” Suki hissed ferociously. “She kept my beret and she was well on her way to convincing Reynaldo that she's Doreene, come back to life.”

“That's Reynaldo's problem.” Michael turned to Angus. “Is this
Tripping
's policy now? To manufacture events?”

“Angus had nothing to do with this,” Suki said fiercely. She looked at Angus, her expression penitent. “I'm sorry, Angus. I just wanted to make her pay, somehow.”

Angus shook his head. “I understand the impulse, believe me, but Michael is right. Readers would abandon us in droves if word of this got out.” He chewed his lip for a moment. “We'll have to leave it out of the article. Well, maybe not
leave it out,
since other publications will include it, but make it plain that we believe it was a prank as opposed to any real paranormal activity.”

Michael looked from Angus to Suki. “I don't think either of you realize how serious this is. You're asking me to lie to the police.”

“Oh, come on,” Angus cajoled. “Journalists lie to the police all the time. It's called protecting their sources.”

“Suki is not a source!”

Suki gave Michael a level look. “Fine. If it'll make things right, I'll tell the police I did it.”

Angus's head whipped around. “You will not!”

Suki shrugged. “It's okay. I can probably talk my way out of an arrest, and you can fire me to show that the magazine wasn't involved.”

“Bugger that.” Angus turned to Michael. “
You're
fired. I need her more than you.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Fine. It's not as though—”

“If you fire Michael, I'll quit.” Suki crossed her arms over her chest.

Michael looked at her in disbelief. “That doesn't even make sense! If anyone is going to quit—”

“Please don't leave, Suki,” Angus begged. “If you do, Pendergast will start taking photos again. His finger was in so many shots, I had to change an article about zombies to one on giant worms.”

Suki shook her head mulishly. “I'll stay as long as you don't fire Michael.”

“No one has to
fire
me,” Michael said loudly. “As I've been trying to
say—
”

“Eh-eh-eh!” Angus held up a hand. “Suki, you leave me no choice. Michael, you're bloody lucky she's willing to sacrifice herself to save your job. I'll see you two in the morning, and we'll consider the subject closed.” He went to the door and opened it. “Disgraceful behavior, when we're supposed to be a team…” Muttering, he went down the hall and banged his bedroom door closed behind him.

Michael looked at Suki. “What just happened?”

She went to the open door. “I promise I will never fake a bloody handprint again.” She glanced into the hall. “And I'll accidentally delete all my photos of it.”

Michael looked uncertain. “You swear?”

Suki nodded. “Totally.”

“Okay, then. I guess.” He walked past her and out the open door. “But I'm pretty sure that conversation was supposed to turn out differently.”

*   *   *

Angus closed his bedroom door and blew out a relieved breath. Maybe it would be better to go home now, before Michael found some other reason to quit. Not that they needed him, exactly. There were plenty of writer slash graphic designers out there, but Pendergast, the magazine's owner, wouldn't like having to find someone new.

Angus sat on a chair to remove his shoes and socks and noticed something white beneath the bed. He went over and pulled it out. It was Doreene's wedding album, from the box Suki had taken and then put back. He sat on the bed and flipped the pages. Doreene and the groom in a church. What had his name been? Hank. Angus flipped another page. Doreene and Hank in front of the minister.

Angus turned to the next page. Doreene and Hank in a garden, a crowd of well-wishers around them. A strong wind had pulled Doreene's dress taut between her legs and skinned the hair back from Hank's face.

Angus's mouth sagged open as he stared at the photo. Still holding the album, he ran into the hall, where he knocked urgently on Michael's door and then Suki's.

Michael stuck his head out of his room and spotted Angus in front of Suki's door. “I'm still happy to quit.”

“Never mind that.” Angus shook the photo album at Suki, who had opened her door. “C'mon, both of you. You have to see this.”

They followed him into his room.

Angus held the album open in front of him. “Look at the picture on the right. See anyone you know?”

“Doreene and her husband,” Michael said. “There's Maureene in the background.”

Suki pulled the album from Angus's hands and stared at it. “Holy crap.”

Angus smiled. “You see it, too?”

“See what?” Michael leaned over so he could see the page. “What do you see?”

Suki stabbed at the page. “Who is that?”

Michael studied the page. “Hank Gray.”

Suki crooked her little finger and used it to cover the top of Hank Gray's head. “Now who is it?”

Michael took the album from her and gripped the covers. “It can't be, can it? Enrico Russo?”

Angus gave a satisfied nod. “Enrico Russo about thirty years ago. Subtract forty pounds, take away the tan, give him some hair and blue eyes instead of brown, and he's Doreene's dead husband, only
not dead.
”

“Wow.” Michael looked up. “Does this mean Reynaldo isn't Doreene's heir?”

“I hadn't gotten that far,” Angus said, eyes widening. “I was still agog at the fact that Maureene had a child by her sister's husband.”

Michael whistled. “That would explain why Doreene was so mean to both Maureene and Lyndsay.”

Suki nodded. “Lupita told me she knew Doreene's husband had cheated on her. She said she'd seen the evidence.”

“When did she say that?” Angus demanded. “And why are we only now hearing about it?”

“She told me when we were in the kitchen making coffee. There hasn't been a lot of opportunity to tell you before.”

Michael looked at the picture again. “I wonder if Hank faked his own death to get away from the mess he'd made.”

Suki tapped Doreene's image. “She must have collected life insurance on him. The insurance company could have sued her for fraud if Hank told them Doreene knew he wasn't dead. Do you suppose that's why she locked herself in the closet and took a bunch of pills? Because Hank threatened to tell?”

“‘Give me the painting and no one has to know,'” Michael said. “Those were his exact words to Doreene.”

Angus stared into space. “And now
we're
the only ones who know who he really is.”

“Lupita knows.” Suki grinned triumphantly. “I
told
you she knew how to fix Enrico's coffee.”

“We have to tell Detective Kroger,” Michael said.

“Yes, but not yet,” Angus said. “Do you know how much this story would be worth to a tabloid magazine?”

Suki shook her head dismissively. “Not that much. None of these people are well-known outside of the art world.”

“This is how people
become
well-known,” Angus said. “By going off to Argentina and pretending to die. I know someone at
Star
magazine who would be quite interested in this story.”

“Then you'd better call him fast,” Michael said, “because I'm going downstairs to tell Detective Kroger about this.”