“Shannon, it’s me. I just got an unusual phone call from the maid at Audrey Sinclair’s home. Audrey was killed in a vehicle crash, coming back from a bingo
parlor. The maid was frantic and trying to reach you through me, evidently, right before the crash, Audrey called her lawyer and her sister and said that she wants you to have that painting, the Impressionist’s painting that we are investigating. How weird is that?”
Yikes, I thought, better think fast, and don’t let Alex know what Eric has told me. “Are you sure? How does the maid know this? And yes, to answer your question, it is weird.”
“The maid didn’t make much sense, I think she is still in shock. Audrey’s family called her very early this morning. Seems to me that she said it was the daughter of Audrey’s sister who called her. Anyway, Audrey had called her sister, but mistakenly dialed the niece’s phone instead, and the niece just thought it was her crazy Aunt Audrey blowing off about some wacky dream. Uh, remember this is not my description, I’m relating to you how it was told to me. Turns out the niece was the one and only emergency contact person that Audrey had written down on her paperwork, in her wallet and on her health insurance records. After the niece got the sad news, she called the maid and asked if the maid had my telephone number and if the maid would call me about a person named Shannon Delaney.” Alex took a deep breath and exhaled, he was silent, waiting for my reply.
Do I tell him what I already know? No.
“Okay, it is absurdly odd about Audrey’s death and her phone calls in regard to the painting and I feel sorry for Audrey. I didn’t exactly hit it off with her, but I sure appreciate that I get to have the painting. Any idea what I should do next?”
“I gave the maid your cell number, she said she’d give it to Audrey’s lawyer tomorrow, I expect the lawyer will formally contact you, soon.”
“So, I wait. I feel badly for Audrey’s family. Maybe when the lawyer contacts me, I can convey my condolences, through him, or her. Alex, do you have any clue as to who Audrey’s family is?”
“Sorry, no.”
“Oh, well, I’ll just wait. In the meantime, is your cousin okay?”
“Yeah, Denny will be fine, we had a few things to work out. I’ll tell you about it another time. You are still going to see Geraldine in the morning?”
“Oh, Alex, thank you for reminding me. I let it slip my mind. Yes, I will certainly go see her, tomorrow.”
“Good, I’ll call tomorrow. I am curious about what Geraldine thinks of the two paintings. Remember, I’m a short distance away, if you need me.”
“Thanks Alex. We’re good, Atlas is watching a Discovery channel documentary about an animal preserve in Africa. Every time a lion roars he looks intently at the TV. It’s kinda funny. And I’m here going over the files, trying to trick my brain into seeing what I have missed.”
“Okay, then I’ll say good-bye.”
After I hung up, all I could think of was not being able to attend Audrey’s funeral. Rats! How could I have forgotten about seeing Geraldine in the morning? Oh, well, I consoled myself, if I had gone to the funeral it would be that much more difficult to feign to Alex I had not known, before he did, about Audrey’s death. It was as if fate was keeping me an honest woman. I giggled out loud at that comparison and looked over at Atlas, he was wagging is tail.
I turned back to focus on the overlay of the paintings I had up on my computer screen. That brunette beauty sure looks familiar, who is she? I let her face matrix in my mind as I compared it to all persons known, so far, to be involved in the mystery of Ruby Red and Andalyn Dixon. I don’t recall seeing very many brunettes in the photos of the news clippings in Audrey’s file or in information I had discovered. And the ones that were there did not stand out as beautiful, none of them could be the brunette beauty in the paintings. I studied the face again. What is it about you that looks familiar? And the phrase on the fortune telling card from the Marie Laveau automaton kept drifting through my thoughts,
see as I see
. What is it I am not seeing? I sighed deep and weary. My eyes ached. I shut off the computer. My stomach rumbled and a glance at my watch told me why, it was almost three in the afternoon. I got up to go to the kitchen, then the phone rang. Must be Alex, calling back.
“Hello,” I said.
“Shannon, this is Otis. We have had an unusual situation come up, would you mind coming over, soon.” Otis sounded concerned and yet hesitant to convey why he was requesting an impromptu visit.
“Otis, I was just about to get a bite to eat. I can be there by four, if that is soon enough?”
“Yes, that will be fine. We can expect you at four, then?”
“Certainly.”
“Thank you.” And that was all he said before hanging up the phone.
I turned to Atlas and said, “The plot thickens, and now I have an afternoon engagement. Though I do not think you were invited, but I won’t be long. And, I’ll give you an early dinner so you will not have to wait for me with an empty stomach.”
I do not believe for a minute that Atlas understood a word I said, except for
dinner
. He readily got up and followed me into the kitchen.
Chapter 24
The storm had quieted down, all that remained were a few overcast clouds and a light drizzle. I grabbed my trench coat and umbrella, and drove the few blocks to the Van Wyck home. By the time I got there and parked at the curb, a weak sun had filtered through the gray sky. Otis answered the door. He invited me in, I left my damp umbrella on the stoop of the porch and took off my trench coat once inside. Otis hung it up on a wall peg in the front hall, all the while explaining that Harriet was not at home. I followed him into the library. We stopped directly in front of the large picture window. Otis knelt down and picked up large flat-boxed package from the floor that was leaning against the windowsill. Holding it in both hands he said, “This is yours, and the long story short is simply that Harriet’s older sister died and called my daughter to say that this must be given to you.” He held out the package. I accepted.
“I don’t understand, what is this and who is Harriet’s sister?”
Her name was Audrey Sinclair, but as to what is in that box, I have no idea.”
I was stunned. After I heard Otis say Audrey’s name my mind went blank. I stared at Otis, like a deer caught in headlights, frozen in place and wondering if this was a dream, or some foolish prank, the entire incident was surreal. I came out of my fog after Otis put his hand on my right shoulder.
“Shannon? Are you okay?”
“Yes, though, I’m not too sure I understand what is going on. You mean to say that Harriet, your wife and Audrey Sinclair are sisters?”
“Yes. However, they were never very close. Not that they were enemies. It was Audrey who always made things difficult for Harriet. I should not speak ill of the dead, but to put it mildly, Audrey had an abrasive personality and she scoffed at Harriet’s way and manner of life. Total opposites they were.”
Not wanting to seem as eager, as I truly was, to open this package, because I was now sure it must be the painting, I kept Otis on topic and asked, “Is Sinclair, Audrey’s married name?”
Otis chuckled. “No not at all. Audrey was not one to
ever be interested in marriage or family. She always used her maiden surname. Sinclair is Harriet’s maiden name, as well. Audrey fancied herself to always be very much the professional woman. And to her credit, she did make
a name for herself as a journalist. Quite successful she was.”
Just standing there was getting to be awkward, I needed to bring this visit to a close as soon as possible, but I was desperate for some answers. I decided to be direct. “Otis, I met Audrey, recently, and very briefly. I had asked her for her files on the subject of Ruby Red. She was kind enough to copy everything she had. She gave them to me and then she was abrupt toward me, as if she no longer wanted to be bothered by the Ruby Red history or my investigation of it. In fact, when I went to her home to pickup the materials, she invited me in, but I remained standing the few minutes I was there. And now this? I don’t know what to make of it, or of Audrey.” I tapped the package.
“Sounds just like her. But, for whatever reason, she wanted you to have that, whatever it is.” Otis looked down at the package.
“Do you mind if I open it here and now?”
Otis smiled, I knew this is what he was hoping for. I laid the box flat on the floor and Otis handed to me a box-cutting knife. Carefully, I slit open the top end and extracted the painting. When I turned it around to face Otis, the surprise on his face was palatable.
“Cheese and crackers! It’s another painting, like ours.”
“Not quite. There is a difference, look at the two women, their positions are reversed.”
“Yes, I see. I wonder why that is?” Otis said.
I took the painting over to the wall where the other one was and held it up, side by side, it was clear that the paintings were identical, except for the two women and where they were positioned. I set my painting on the floor, propped against the wall. I turned to Otis and asked, “Otis, where did your painting come from?”
“We found it here, in the house. Down in a cubbyhole of the basement, it was inside of a huge wardrobe trunk. I was just a young whippersnapper when we found it. I was down in the basement with my pa, we had decided to make a thorough going over of all the old stuff down there, our objective was to have a yard sale. My dad said he remembered that old trunk and that when he was just a kid, his dad had found it down there, but had left it alone, because in those times the painting and other items in the trunk were not popular for that era. Old stuff, you know. It was after the war and people wanted to get on with their lives, they wanted the new modern look in home decorating. Well, I inherited the house and that was about the time Harriet and I married, when she saw the painting she recognized it for what it is and liked it enough to bring it up here to the library.”
“You say she recognized it? Did Harriet know it had to do with Ruby Red?”
“Oh, yeah, sure she did. She and Audrey shared a fascination with that story.”
“Did Harriet know about this second painting, the one Audrey had?”
“I’m pretty sure she does not know about it. I sure didn’t. We’ve not been to Audrey’s home in years. The steps up to her home are difficult for Harriet to manage. And, like I said, sisters that they are, but not close.”
“So, Otis, is it a fair conclusion to say that the painting found here at your home, that no person in your family acquired it, or knew where it came from?”
“Correct. The painting was left here from previous owners of the home.”
“And is it correct to say that you, nor Harriet, ever knew about the painting that Audrey had, the one that is now in my possession?”
“Most certainly that is correct. In fact I have no idea why, when or where Audrey acquired that painting. Boy howdy, will Harriet be surprised by these latest developments and I’ll run all of these concerns by her when she gets home. But I’m pretty sure she knew nothing about it. If she does, I’ll call you right away.”
“Thanks Otis.” I glanced at my watch and said, “I should be going, I left Atlas inside. Please express my condolences to Harriet.” I carefully slipped the painting back into the box. Otis saw me to the door and walked me out to my car. He helped me set the painting on the passenger seat.
After arriving home, I took the painting up to my office and set it upright on the tall file cabinet, propped against the wall. It was at eye level to me and I stared at it in disbelief. “My how strange the world is, one never knows what will happen from one moment to the next,” I said, thinking out loud.
“I concur.”
Eric had manifested and was standing next to me. He held his left hand up to his chin, lightly stroking his chin, deep in thought.
I could not resist chiding him. “According to Chloe Mason, when a man strokes his nonexistent beard, he is in contemplative thought and his expressed thoughts, what he says next, will be the absolute sincere truth.”
Eric raised an eyebrow, turned to look at me and said, “The absence of truth is never a factor in our relationship.”
Uh-oh, I may have offended him. “I’m relating to you what your body language is indicative of. What do you make of this painting?”
“Something about the brunette woman is uncanny.”
My eyes widened and my heart began to race. “Uncanny? Do you mean to say, you recognize her?”
“Her face is familiar. The scene, the market square, none of that is familiar.”
“Eric, close your eyes and concentrate, please?”
He did as I asked. I watched him in expectant silence. If Eric thought the woman was someone he had met in his lifetime, then his recollection could be the break I need.
Eric opened his eyes. He turned to me and said. “Hand me the most recent file you are studying.”
I reached across my desk and picked up the Ruby Red file. “Here.” I opened the file folder for him.
Eric carefully flipped through a few pages of my notes and copies of the newspaper clippings. He handed the materials back to me.
“Not these. Shannon, where are the materials in regard to Andalyn Dixon?”