Eye of the Beholder (31 page)

“Well, why don’t we hit some of the galleries in the old art district and see if we find something? Brent refuses to let me work this week. I haven’t got anything else to do.”

“Oh, we need to pick up Gordy and Pam’s wedding gift, too. I’m sure it’s ready.”

“All right. Good ol’ Sid will watch the house. He’s on the day shift.”

“I’ll be glad when the police catch Rob Blakely and we can stop all this security guard nonsense.”

Will Seevers sat at his desk, working through a stack of paperwork when his phone rang. He picked up the receiver and cradled it next to his ear. “Chief Seevers.”

“It’s Gordy. You got a minute?”

“I’m trying to knock out a mountain of paperwork. What’s up?”

“Doc Tehrani and his wife came to see Pam and me yesterday. They’ve decided to come to the wedding.”

“So why are you telling me?”

“One time when we talked about it, you said you wouldn’t shake hands with them. Didn’t seem right to spring this on you at the reception. Is it gonna be a problem for you?”

“I don’t know, Gordy. I just found out about it.”

“If you just give them a chance, you’ll see they’re really nice people. And they’re tryin’ to be more vocal about where they stand on all the stuff that’s been goin’ on.”

“That’s all we need.”

“Hey, before you get huffy, let me tell you what they said.” Gordy relayed the conversation he and Pam had had with the Tehranis, including Mina’s comments about citizenship. “They want people to see they’re as loyal and patriotic as any other American.”

“All right.”

“That’s it:
All right
?”

“I promise not to embarrass you, Gordy. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Yeah, okay, Will. Thanks.”

“You and Pam getting excited?”

“Yeah, we are. She’s off the rest of the week, makin’ sure the details come together.”

“Well, according to the extended forecast, Saturday afternoon should be picture perfect—bluebird sky and the high around eighty.”

Gordy laughed. “I’m so ready to tie the knot, it could snow and it wouldn’t wreck it for me. So how’re the investigations comin’? Any leads?”

“We’re making some headway. The autopsy reports were helpful.”

“I sure hope you nail whoever killed those boys.”

“We will. I’ve got to get back to work, bud.”

“Okay, talk to you later.”

Will hung up the phone and took a bite of his ham-and-cheese on rye. He washed it down with a gulp of milk, then dialed Backus’s cell phone.

“This is Backus.”

“How’re you coming, Al? Any volunteers?”

“Yeah, we got swabs on all left-handed male students except the ones in the evening classes.”

“Anybody resist?”

“A couple of jocks dug in their heels and started bumping
their gums about us violating their rights. We told them we could get a court order and they could save themselves a lot of grief if they’d just let us stick a Q-tip in their mouths. They gave in.”

“So how many lefties in the night classes?”

“Three, and we’re trying to locate them now. With any luck, we’ll get it all done before the end of the day.”

“How many total?”

“Twenty-one. Thirteen so far with dark hair.”

“We’re narrowing down the field.”

“Yeah, maybe. But these kids don’t seem intimidated. If they’re nervous, they’re sure covering it up well.”

Gordy sat out on the back deck of the crab shack, having lunch with his buddies: Captain Jack, Adam Spalding, and Eddie Drummond.

“The big day’s almost here,” Adam said. “You nervous?”

Gordy shook his head. “Nah, never been calmer.”

“It’s nice having something upbeat to think about,” Captain said. “Anyone else sick and tired of bad news?”

Adam nodded. “I think it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

“Yeah, as long as Muslims are here.” Eddie put a spoonful of sugar in his iced tea and stirred it. “I wish they’d all go back where they came from and leave the rest of us in peace.”

“Peace?” Gordy said. “You think that’d solve our problems?”

“Well, we sure as heck don’t need theirs.”

Gordy took a sip of his limeade. “It’s not that easy to separate ours and theirs, you know. A lot of them are Americans, too.”

“Yeah,
that’s
the problem.” Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “We’re in a war on terror, yet we’re supposed to be tolerant of Muslims living here? Give me a break. All they know is violence. I don’t know why we put up with all that religious gobbledygook anyway.”

Adam smiled wryly. “The First Amendment?”

“Look, guys,” Gordy said. “No law is gonna change people’s hearts. You can’t legislate brotherhood. But maybe if each of us would decide to treat everyone else with respect, the problem would eventually take care of itself. We can’t change the whole world, but we can change our slice of it.”

There was a long pause. Gordy’s eyes moved from Adam to Captain to Eddie. “What?”

“When’d you decide to get into politics?” Eddie said.

Gordy shoved Eddie’s arm. “I’m serious. We’re not gonna change anything if we sit around and whine about how bad things are and do nothin’ to change it.”

“Like what?” Eddie said.

“Well, for starters, how about reachin’ out to the families of those two murdered kids?”

Eddie guffawed. “Yeah, right. Why would I wanna do that?”

Gordy raised his eyebrows. “Because you care? Assumin’, of course, you do. How hard could it be to write a note? Or send ’em a card?”

“I don’t know those people.”

“Yeah, well,
those people
are your neighbors. You may need their help someday. All I’m sayin’ is we should try treatin’ people the way we want to be treated. What goes around, comes around.”

Guy strolled hand-in-hand with Ellen through the last art gallery on their list. Suddenly Ellen stopped, her eyes wide, her jaw dropped. He looked up at the painting she was viewing and immediately knew why.

The huge oil painting was lifelike—a close up of an old man building a sandcastle, a pelican so close the man could have touched it.

“It’s got to be Ned!” Ellen said. “Look at the detail—the expression on his face and in his eyes. The wispy strands of white
hair. The denim cut offs. And the pelican—that’s Porky!”

She leaned closer to the canvas and read the artist’s name, then turned to a woman arranging a small framed print on an easel. “Excuse me, is Grant Harrington a local artist?”

“As a matter of fact he is. Isn’t that a charming painting? Grant brought that one in just last week.”

“Did he give you any background on it—whether he used a photograph, or painted it from memory, or actually painted it on the beach?”

“Grant said he used a telephoto lens and photographed this man and the pelican on Seaport Beach. He painted it from the photograph. Looks lifelike, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s amazing. I knew this man.” Ellen stood in front of the painting, seeming mesmerized, then looked at Guy, her eyes pleading. “It’s incredible. I love everything about it.”

“Don’t be too hasty, honey. This is a big decision.”

Ellen stretched out her arms. “Look, it’s just the right size—from my left fingertips to my right.”

“Do you like the frame?”

“It’s gorgeous. And the colors would be perfect with the new couch.”

Guy smiled and looked over at the woman. “That means we’ll take it.”

“Excellent choice. Let me go get the paperwork and we’ll set up a time to have it delivered and hung for you.”

Ellen linked her arm in Guy’s and turned her eyes again on the painting. “It seems so real, I feel as though I could walk right into it. What a find this is!”

“You still miss the old guy, don’t you?”

Ellen nodded. “I wish I could tell him how much he changed my life.”

Guy couldn’t deny how dramatically Ellen’s attitude changed after she took Ned’s advice and began praying for Ross Hamilton and Blanche Davis.

He looked up at the painting and studied the face of the man he’d never met and wondered if Ned were still alive if he would give Guy the same advice.

Guy sat across the table from Ellen at Gordy’s Crab Shack, perusing the menu. “Great afternoon, huh?”

“I’m so excited about the painting I can hardly stand it.”

“It was a great find, all right. What’re you having?”

“Grilled shrimp.”

“I’ll have blackened mahi-mahi.” He set down his menu, then picked up her hand and pressed it to his lips. “I enjoyed spending time with you today. I’ve really missed it.”

Suddenly Ellen seemed to be staring at something beyond him, her eyes wide.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“Guy, don’t react, but Mina and Ali Tehrani are walking over to the table. They’re almost here …” Ellen’s smile looked as though she’d glued it on. “Hi, you two.”

A man and woman he guessed to be in their early fifties came and stood at the head of the table. Each had dark hair and dark eyes. The man had a thick mustache, streaked with white.

“This is my husband, Guy. Dear, this is Dr. Ali Tehrani and his wife, Mina.”

Guy rose to his feet and shook hands with each of them. “Nice to finally meet you.” He felt the lie scald his cheeks.

“The pleasure is ours,” Ali said. “We were wondering if you might like to join us. Of course, if this isn’t a good time, we will understand.”

Guy glanced at Ellen, her eyes filled with raw panic.

“Maybe we could have a rain check,” Guy said. “This is a bit of a celebratory dinner for us. We’re finally back in our house.”

Ali smiled warmly. “Perhaps another time, then.”

Mina bent over, her arms around Ellen’s neck. “I’m glad you
are home, my friend. I’ve missed you so.”

The Tehranis left the table, and a second later, Guy heard Gordy Jameson’s voice. “Hey, Doc … Mina. Good to see you.”

If Gordy said anything else, it was drowned out by the screaming silence coming from Ellen.

“Honey, I’m sorry. I got caught off guard. I hope I didn’t sound rude.”

“You were polite, but they knew they were being brushed off. They know how you feel.”

“How could they—unless you told them?”

Ellen lifted her eyebrows. “I didn’t have to. Mina picked it up weeks ago in your tone and probably in my evasiveness. I told her it wasn’t personal, that you’re wary of Muslims in general because of the terrorist threats. I’m sure she wasn’t shocked.”

“I don’t like being talked about.”

“And I don’t like having to make excuses for your prejudice.”

“Prejudice? That’s a little harsh.”

“Is it? What would you call it?”

“Ellen, honey, look at me. I’m sorry that I hurt you. Please don’t let this set us back. I’m trying.”

“I know you are. But it’s obvious your opinion of the Tehranis hasn’t really changed.”

“I can’t force myself to feel something I don’t.”

“Then stop trying to do it in your own strength!” Ellen paused for a moment, then looked into his eyes. “Guy, I know it’s not my place to instruct you, but I know from experience that the only way you’re going to get past this is to admit to the Lord how you feel and let Him change your heart.”

 31
 

G
uy Jones tossed and turned, vaguely aware of an obnoxious ringing noise that grew louder and louder until he finally realized it was the telephone. He groped the nightstand and picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

“Guy, it’s Brent. Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, what time is it?”

“Six-thirty. I thought you’d be up.”

“I’m supposed to be taking it easy, remember? What day is it anyway?”

“Thursday. Listen, it’s over. Some undercover cops busted Rob Blakely a few hours ago. They’ve got enough to put him and his cohorts away for a long time. Kinsey, too. They’ve got photographs of her buying snow from Blakely on several occasions.”

“Has she been arrested?”

“No, they haven’t found her yet.”

Guy sat up on the side of the bed. “Well, they’re not going to find her in Tallahassee. She’s in Atlanta.”

“How do you know that?”

“She was here Sunday. She came to tell me the real truth of how I got dragged into it and apologized.” Guy told Brent everything Kinsey had told Ellen and him. “We tried to talk her into turning herself in, but she’s determined not to do time.”