The Portrait of Doreene Gray (22 page)

“The police declared Doreene's death accidental,” Angus said, “so I'm sure it's perfectly fine to go in. They probably just forgot to take the tape down.” He held out the bag of gloves. “Now put these on.”

Michael made a reluctant face. “Maybe we should call Detective Kroger—just to make sure.”

“And disturb the poor man's evening?” Angus shook the bag of gloves. “Here we go.”

Suki took it from him and pulled out a pair. “I'll help you look. Michael can keep watch.”

Michael sighed. “We don't need to keep watch. Those stairs creak enough to let the neighbors know someone is coming.” He took a pair of gloves for himself. “There's not much of a gap in that tape, Angus. Are you sure you can fit through?”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Angus pulled on his second glove with a snap of rubber before swiping the tape down with one wave of his arm. “If anyone catches us, we'll say it was off when we got here.”

Doreene's room smelled faintly of perfume. Someone had pulled the curtains back. Dim evening light came through the windows, muting colors. The bed was unmade.

Angus stumbled over something on the floor. “Bugger. Go ahead and turn on your little phone light, Michael.”

“Don't,” Suki said. “It'll look like someone's robbing the place.” She crossed to the window and closed the drapes with a brisk sweep of her arms. “Now we can switch on a real light.”

Michael turned on the nearest lamp, on one of the nightstands. He opened the drawer beneath and stirred through the contents. “Condoms. Who did she think she was kidding?” He shut the drawer. “This may be the creepiest thing I've ever done.”

“You've led a very sheltered life.” Angus pulled a framed picture away from the wall and peered behind it.

Suki went to a jewelry armoire and lifted the top. “The creepiest thing I've ever done was on one of my shoots for
National Geographic
. I had to look through a crocodile's guts for our guide's watch.”

“Gross,” Michael said. “Why'd you have to do it? Did you lose a bet?”

Suki gave him a cold look. “Our guide would have done it himself, but it's hard with only one hand.”

Angus went over to a small drop-front desk that stood against the wall. He lowered the front and pulled a stack of paper from a cubbyhole. “Credit card bills.”

Suki got on her knees and looked under the bed. “Boxes.” She slid a narrow black box out and opened the dusty lid. “Photographs. It's like I have a sixth sense.”

“Listen!” Michael whispered.

They froze in place, Angus clutching a fistful of paper and Suki peering over the edge of the bed.

After a moment of silence, Michael got up, tiptoed to the window, and peered through the drapes. “Never mind. The wind has picked up, is all.”

Angus expelled a held breath. “Grab a couple of those photo boxes and let's go to my room.” He turned off the lamp and took the papers from the desk with him.

Once in Angus's room, Michael closed the door and put his box on the floor. He started to strip off his gloves.

“Best leave them on,” Angus said.

“Okay.” Michael sighed. “They're making my hands sweat.”

“I'll try to remember to bring cotton photography gloves next time,” Suki said. “They're a lot more comfortable.” She put an open box of photos on the bed, sat cross-legged in front of it, and flipped rapidly through pictures.

Angus sat at the room's little desk with the credit card statements.

“These are all vacation shots,” Suki said after a while, letting the last photo drop back into place. “What do you have, Michael?”

“The same. Cruises.”

She clambered off the bed. “There was at least one more box farther under the bed. I'm going to trade these out.” She stacked one box on top of the other and left the room.

“How are you doing, Angus?” Michael asked.

“Mmm…” Angus said absently. “The only thing of interest is Doreene's pattern of spending. She'd go months without paying anything more than the minimum, then suddenly pay the whole lot off. And there are a couple of times when she spent thousands of dollars on clothing or jewelry, only to return it the next week.”

“Sounds like her income was pretty irregular. Any plastic surgery bills?”

Angus scanned another statement as Suki came back with a different box. “She went to a Dr. Mortimer every six months.”

“Botox,” Suki declared.

“And she spent five thousand dollars at Clinica Estética on her most recent trip to Brazil.”

“Butt lift.” Suki put the beat-up cardboard box on the floor. “This one is pretty dusty. I don't think I'll risk it on the bed.”

“Thank you,” Angus said. “I don't want to sneeze all night.” He got up, credit card statements in hand. “I'll put these back.”

Michael joined Suki on the floor as she unfolded the flaps of the box. It contained a hodgepodge of yellowed papers, photos, and memorabilia such as coasters and event tickets.

Michael removed a photo album covered in yellowed white satin and opened it. “Pictures from Doreene's wedding to Hank Gray. He looks just like that painting we saw at the gallery. Maureene really is good.” He flipped through the stiff pages, then set it aside.

Suki opened a creased manila envelope and took out some older-looking photos. “Hey, here's a picture of Maureene with blond hair.”

“Let me see.” Michael took the photo from her outstretched hand. “Are you sure this isn't Doreene?”

“Yeah. Maureene has a slightly rounder jaw, and her eyelids droop a little, like she's hiding something. But the real tip-off is this.” She handed him a second snapshot, then got to her feet.

Michael studied it. “Maureene holding a baby—presumably Lyndsay. Mom looks more worried than happy.”

“Must have had a premonition,” Suki said drily. “Let me see that again.” She took it from him and scooped her camera off the bed on her way to the desk. After switching on a nearby lamp, she placed the photo on the desk, pressed the camera against the wall to keep it still, and took some pictures. She checked the result on her camera's digital screen, then flipped the snapshot over. “Whoa.”

Michael looked up. “What?”

“Just a sec.” Suki took another series of photos before handing the snapshot to Michael with the back side up. A neat penciled note in the corner read
Geneva, Switzerland.
Someone had scrawled
Bitch!
across it in black marker.

Angus returned in time to hear Michael give a low whistle. “Find something interesting?”

Michael extended his arm so Angus could take the picture. “Maureene and Lyndsay. After you've feasted your eyes on mother and child, check out the back.”

Angus studied the photo for a moment, then flipped it over. His brows went up. “I can understand Doreene disliking Lyndsay when she was an obnoxious teen, but this suggests a long-standing grudge.”

“It looks as though Doreene hated that Maureene had a kid,” Michael said. “Do you suppose she couldn't get pregnant, and resented her sister for managing it?”

Angus shrugged. “Doreene never struck me as the maternal type, but this was a long time ago. Who knows what she was like?”

Michael took another snapshot from the box. “Check this out.” He stood so they could all look at it.

The photo showed the twins as girls, seated side by side on top of a picnic table.

“They both have blond hair here,” Suki said. “It must have gotten darker when they grew up.”

“They look about sixteen in this picture,” Angus said. “No question who's who, is there?”

“Nope,” Michael said. “Doreene is the smiling one in the cute sundress, and Maureene is sitting there like a brick with a face.”

Suki took the picture to the desk and photographed it. “Do you guys think Maureene might be a lesbian?”

They looked at her in surprise.

“I don't get a sexual vibe from her one way or the other,” Suki said, bringing the picture back, “but look at her outfit in this shot—baggy pants and baggy sweater. Sixteen years old, hormones raging, and she's wearing clothes that say, ‘I don't care about being attractive to men.'”

“She went on to have a child,” Michael pointed out, “and she certainly seems fond of Enrico. Maybe she just didn't want to look like her sister.”

“Or she was a late bloomer,” Angus suggested.

“Yeah, maybe…” Suki said. “I still think there's something weird going on.”

“That's why we're here,” Angus said cheerfully. “What else is in that box?”

Michael knelt and rooted through some other photos. “Maureene holding toddler Lyndsay's hand. Still blond, and she looks happier. Doreene and Hank on a yacht with a bunch of rich people. Hey, look, Max is there, too!” Michael pointed with one yellow-gloved finger.

“Tan, rested, and ready to make deals,” Angus observed, taking the photo. “I wonder which came first—working at Rothwell's or hanging out with moneyed folks?” He handed the picture to Suki.

The sound of a bark came from outside. Angus strode across the room and pulled the curtain aside slightly. “Reynaldo and Lyndsay are back.”

“Shit.” Suki knelt on the floor and quickly repacked the box. “Is there time to put this under the bed where I found it?” She took the camera from around her neck.

Angus looked out the window again. “Gigi is running around like she doesn't want to be caught, but I'd hurry.”

Michael watched impatiently as Suki tucked in the box flaps. “No one's going to know it was like that.”

“The police might.” She picked up the box.

Angus looked over his shoulder at them. “They got her. They're almost to the house.”

Michael picked up a paper that had slid partway under the bed. “You missed something!”

Suki glanced back from the doorway and shook her head. “No time. Just hide it somewhere.”

Michael lifted the corner of the bedspread and stuffed the paper under it, then went into the hallway and listened for sounds from downstairs.

Angus tiptoed across the room to join Michael. As the sound of Lyndsay's voice floated up, they both looked down the hall toward Doreene's room.

Suki came out of the room a moment later. She picked up several loose ends of crime-scene tape and quickly stuck them to the door frame again. As creaking sounds came from the stairwell, she ran lightly down the hall and into Angus's room.

Michael swung the door closed behind her and slowly released the latch. The three of them stood silently, Suki holding her gloved hands over her mouth to quiet her breathing.

Footsteps traversed the hallway outside. “I don't think we're supposed to go in there,” Reynaldo said.

Lyndsay's tone was gentle. “It's all right. I'm putting it right back where I found it, and anyway, the police don't care about a hair clip. In fact, you could probably move back in here. I could call Detective Kroger and ask, if you'd like.”

“I don't want to be in that room!”

“Then where are you going to sleep?” Lyndsay asked. “If you don't feel comfortable asking those magazine people to leave, I could at least ask the two men to share a room.”

“I will sleep downstairs, on the couch,” Reynaldo said.

“You're too sweet, Rey. You need someone to stick up for you.” There was the sound of a quick kiss. “Let me put this away and I'll be right back. Hold Gigi for me?”

Within a minute she had returned. “Let's find Lupita and ask her for some sheets and blankets. I might sleep here as well. It's crowded in that cottage, and I think Maureene and Enrico want some privacy.”

Reynaldo laughed and said something inaudible to Angus and the others. A moment later, creaking sounds announced that he and Lyndsay were on their way downstairs.

Angus mimed holding a fishing pole. “She's reeling him in.”

Michael pulled off his rubber gloves and waved his hands in the air to dry them. “Poor schmuck.”

“Where's that paper you found on the floor?” Suki asked.

Michael pointed. “Under that corner of the bedspread.”

Suki, still wearing gloves, retrieved the paper and unfolded it. “Photocopy of Lyndsay's birth certificate, signed by Maureene and with the space for the father's name left blank.” She put it on the desk and photographed it. “I really don't feel like going back in that room after such a close call. What do you say I put this back tonight, when everyone is sleeping?”

“Fine with me,” Angus said. “Don't get caught.”

 

Twenty

Suki woke to the sound of her cell phone vibrating an alarm. She picked it up and silenced it with a finger before squinting at the time. One o'clock. She used the dim illumination to pull on her robe, which she had draped across the back of a chair.

Suki took Lyndsay's birth certificate from a pocket in her camera bag and went to the door, where she turned off her phone and dropped it into her robe pocket. She had discovered earlier that her bedroom door's hinges squeaked, so after turning the handle slowly, she jerked the door open a good two feet. It made only the slightest of noises.

She listened for several minutes, her eyes adjusting to the dark. Then she walked quietly down the hallway, sticking close to the wall. It took only minutes to go into Doreene's room, slide the box from beneath the bed, pull up the flaps enough to push the paper through, and slide it back.

Before Suki could straighten up, she heard a rustle behind her. She briefly considered trying to hide under the bed, but that was always harder than it sounded, and there was never a good excuse if you were caught.

She put a hand on the bed and stood, turning slowly as she did so.

The room appeared to be empty.

“Spooky,” she muttered, then looked down as she heard a clicking sound move across the floor toward her.