10 Lethal Black Dress (28 page)

“What does it mean, Lacey?” Vic asked.

“It means I need to find out more about the artist and her
stash of green silk,” Lacey said. “That’s a little difficult, I’m afraid, as
she’s no longer with us.”

“Perhaps Marie could hold a séance,” Vic said. “Go right to
the source.”

“Do you need to borrow the painting?” Nadine offered. “I have
a tote bag it should fit inside.”

“There are textile experts who could compare the silk,” Danny
said. “Now what’s this all about, just by the way?”

“Could it be dangerous?” Nadine looked hopeful.

“Nadine, don’t get your hopes up,” Vic said. “We just won’t
get this thing wet.”

“The gallery postcard says she lived in Great Falls.”

“Actually out in the woods, but it’s not very far from Great
Falls. I could show you,” Nadine said. “I’ve been there. Of course that little
house of hers could be gone by now, what with all the mansion construction going
on up there. You’d hardly know the place. Who’s up for a drive up the river?”

Nadine looked like a cat sipping cream.

CHAPTER 35

“Nadine, are you suggesting—?” Danny
said, with a knowing grin.

“It’s a perfect day to go for a drive,” she said. “In my big old
Caddy, the Pink Flamingo. Who’s with me?”

“I knew it would come to this.” Vic squeezed Lacey’s elbow.
“I suppose you’re up for it?”

“A drive in that giant pink Cadillac? Are you kidding? I’d
love to,” Lacey said.

“No use trying to stop a pink tornado,” Danny said. “I’m
getting my hat.”

Nadine put Lacey up front in the passenger seat, Vic and his
dad in the back. She pulled out of the garage and put the top down.

“You boys don’t have to come, you know. You could stay home
and watch the game. I’m sure there’s some kind of game on television. I’d be
perfectly disappointed if there wasn’t.”

“Drive on, darling.” Danny pulled his snappy fedora down over
his forehead.

Vic grinned behind his shades. “Let you two run off alone
with fashion crimes, poison dyes, and a big pink Cadillac? I don’t think so,
ladies.”

Nadine tucked her hair under a scarf, à la Grace Kelly,
donned her pink sunglasses, and tuned the radio to oldies. She was definitely Old
Hollywood star material. Lacey tied her hair back in a ponytail to brave the
top-down open air.

People don’t go for a drive on a sunny Sunday afternoon in a
pink 1957 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz if they want to remain anonymous. Vic and his
dad, both private investigators and security professionals, slouched down in
the back seat, trying to look inconspicuous.
Or maybe just cool.
Cars on
Chain Bridge Road honked and drivers waved, when they weren’t staring and
pointing and taking photos. Nadine waved back gaily. She had a no-holds-barred
driving style, and like the captain of an ocean liner, she was in her element.
A few turns took them onto Old Dominion Drive, then Swinks Mill Road, and
Georgetown Pike sped them out of McLean, Virginia. They cruised the Pike past
the turnoff to Great Falls Park, and Nadine turned right onto Riverbend Road.

Although a few modest original homes and old farmhouses
remained along the road, the woods and rolling hills were being rapidly
transformed by immense mansions, all competing to show off the new money it
took to build them. Nadine turned off Riverbend onto a side road and pulled
into the drive of a small white one-story frame house. It needed a little paint
and TLC, but it looked inhabited.

“What do you know?” she said, getting out of the Caddy. “It’s
still here.”

“Amazing. It was a long time ago,” Danny said. “This
property’s got to be worth a lot now.”

They had just reached the tiny porch when the front door of
the house opened and a scruffy man who would look at home on a motorcycle
stepped outside. He was big and burly, but not fat, with a full black beard and
jet black hair that grazed his shoulders, wearing a T-shirt with the sleeves
cut off, faded jeans, and heavy black boots. Black tattoos snaked down both
well-muscled arms, and a gleaming black Harley Davidson sat by the side of the
small house. He strode toward the car.

He grinned at Nadine. “Hey lady, that is my kind of car.
Fifty-six?” He had a friendly smile to go with his bouncer-at-a-biker-bar
looks.

“Fifty-seven. Sorry to interrupt you,” Nadine said.

“A beauty like that can interrupt me anytime,” he said,
clearly meaning the car and not its occupants. He stuck out a hand, still
eyeing the Caddy. “I’m Michael. Big Mike, if you’re looking for a mechanic.
What can I do you for?”

“I’m Lacey. We were hoping for some information,” Lacey said.
She shook his offered hand, clean except for a little grease under his
fingernails.

He reluctantly shifted his gaze from the Cadillac to her and
Nadine. Vic and his dad brought up the rear in their shades. Lacey knew they
were both carrying concealed weapons. For that matter, she thought, Big Mike
probably was too.

“You lost? Looking for the park, right? It’s just down around
the bend. Go back to Jeffery Road and turn left, watch for the sign.”

“No, we know our way around, thanks,” Nadine said. “My name
is Nadine, this is my family. I used to know a woman who lived here, in your
house. Jillian Hopewell?”

“The artist lady?”

“That’s her. Did you know her?”

Michael shook his head. “Heard my folks talk about her. They
knew her, somehow. Bought the house from her. I was in high school at the time.
Actually, they bought it from her ex-husband. She was dead by then. I guess he
still owned it, or she left it to him, something like that.”

“I suppose there’s nothing left from when she lived here?”
Nadine said.

“Not much, though it was a real mess when we got it. The
place was full of her stuff. Canvases, paintings, whatever. My mother was in a
state. Supposed to be all cleaned up before we moved in, but the guy didn’t do
it. I guess the folks didn’t holler too much though, they got a sweet deal on
the house. Just me here now.”

“Did that stuff include paints and other materials?” Lacey
asked.

“I guess. She was a painter.” Big Mike shrugged. “There was a
couple of boxes and like a big trunk or something. Pictures, easels, lots of
junk laying around. My folks put it all in a storage shed out back, and then
her family hauled it away a few months later. Except for one painting. My
mother liked it, so she kept it. Rent on the shed, I guess.”

“Where is her ex now?” Vic asked.

“Oh, man. That was a while ago. Last I heard he moved to
Florida with his new honey. Wacky old guy. Gerhardt Hopewell, his name was.
Course, he’d be pretty old by now. Hey, that painting’s still here though. You
want to see it? It’s inside.”

“That would be lovely,” Nadine said. “Thank you, Michael. I
visited here years ago. Before she died, of course. The house looks the same.”

“We never did much to it. Worked for us the way it was.”
Michael opened the door for them. “Don’t mind the mess.” It wasn’t terribly
messy, though it did smell a bit like beer and motor oil. The house consisted
of the living room, dining room, kitchen, bath and two small bedrooms. The décor
consisted mostly of TVs and guitars. “Great little house. Sweet and petite.
Works for me.”

“Very pretty out here in this neck of the woods,” Nadine
said.

“Except for all the damn McMansions popping up and crowding
everyone out. Blocking the sun.”

“I was surprised to find this house still here. It was so
long ago that I last saw Jillian.”

“Believe me, they keep trying to get us out. Me and the few
old homesteads still standing. Flashing their money at us. Those people think
this house is a pimple on their perfection. That’s from a song. But I don’t
want to move, even though the property taxes are killing me. Thank God, I got
solid employment. I fix Harleys, work on some cars, play a little music. Here’s
that painting I told you about.”

There was a smoke-blackened fireplace on the back wall of the
front room, above which hung a large-screen television. To the side of the TV
there was a large painted landscape, obviously by Jillian Hopewell.

“That looks familiar,” Danny said. “Larger than the one we
have.”

“Cheerful, ain’t it?” Michael said. “And green. That’s what
my mom liked about it. Said it reminded her of why they moved out here.
Beautiful green country. Before all the Richie Riches moved in. Another kind of
green here now. Greenbacks.”

“Part of her Riverbend series.” Lacey leaned in to examine
it. The picture had a bit of soot from the fireplace, but the vibrant greens
and blues still shimmered. “This one is painted on silk too.”

“Yeah, that’s what my mom said. Real pretty green silk. You
wouldn’t be interested in buying it, wouldja?”

“Not today,” Lacey said.

“I could let it go for the right price.” What was a family
heirloom between friends?

“Let me think about it. Where did Jillian paint?”

“Over to the dining room.” He led them into a bright room
with a long farm table in the center. The table was covered in neatly organized
motorcycle parts. “The light’s real good in here. Careful you don’t step in any
oil.”

The airy room faced south, with big windows on three sides
and light streaming through them. It felt like a sunroom. It would be a lovely
place to work, though awfully warm in the summer.

“Is that the same shed out there?” Vic asked.

“Yep. I guess that’s where she mixed up paints and stuff.
Want to see it?”

Lacey wondered why Big Mike was being so friendly, offering
all these strangers the nickel tour. Perhaps he didn’t have much company out
here. More likely, it was the magic of Nadine’s pink Cadillac.

“Absolutely!” Nadine was halfway out the door, as if she
expected to find a nice shiny skeleton.

The group trooped outside. The old corrugated metal shed had
double doors that stood slightly ajar. Inside were a couple of Harleys in
various stages of disassembly, more parts, workbenches, and a heavy scent of
motor oil. Big Mike had made himself at home here too.

“You have a nice setup out here,” Vic said. He and his dad
stepped into the shed. “You do your own machining?”

“Oh yeah, man, you can’t trust those bandits at the big
machine shops! I do everything right here so I keep the cost down and…”

Lacey and Nadine wandered around the shop while the men
talked about cylinder heads and camshafts. There was not much of Jillian
Hopewell to be seen here, just a few ancient paint splatters on the walls. An
old galvanized wash tub hung on one wall, stained green and specked with paint.
Had she also dyed her own silk for her work? Lacey could imagine it. The men
rejoined them and they stepped out into the sunshine.

“I’m indebted to you for the tour, Michael,” Nadine said.
“The place is just as pretty as I remembered it.”

Lacey was sure Jillian Hopewell hadn’t done motorcycle repair
on her dining room table, but it was the right thing to say.

“Why y’all so interested in the artist?” Michael asked. “I
mean, she’s long gone, right? No disrespect or anything, just wondering.”

“She was a friend, and she lives on in her art,” Nadine said.

“I saw her work in an art show in Alexandria the other
night,” Lacey said. “And Nadine said she’d known her and knew where she lived
and painted. So here we are.”

“We have one of her paintings too,” Danny said. “Not nearly
as large as yours.”

“No kidding? Mine’s a big one? Are they worth anything?”

“One of hers at the gallery show had a price tag of two
thousand dollars,” Lacey said.

Michael whistled. “For something like that?”

“Doesn’t mean it will sell,” Danny said, ever upbeat about
art.

“So that picture of mine might come in handy for a rainy
day.” He stroked his beard. “An original Jillian Hopewell!” Michael escorted
the group back to the Cadillac and looked lovingly at Nadine’s big pink car.

“Thanks for your time, Michael.” Vic opened the passenger
door and offered Michael his hand.

“No problem, man, happy to do it. Nice to meet y’all. Man, I
love these old cars. Nothing cooler than a big old finned Caddy. She’s a
beauty.”

He put his hand on the fender and gently stroked it. Nadine
and Lacey shared a look.

“I call her the Pink Flamingo. Would you like to check her
out?” Nadine inquired.

He grinned. One side tooth was missing. Nadine popped the
hood latch. Big Mike lifted the hood and made grunts of approval.

“Whoa! Oh man, that’s the original mill, isn’t it? With the
dual quads!” He whistled again. “She’s real clean. You take good care of her.”

“You want me to start her up?”

He put both thumbs up. “You bet.” Nadine turned the key and
pressed the accelerator. “If you ever need any work done on her, you let me
know. I work on cars too, not just Harleys. Man, she really purrs. You think
maybe—?”

“Hop in. We’ll take a little spin, but she only purrs for me,
Michael. I am her only driver.”

“Understood, ma’am. You’re the boss.”

Danny just smiled at Vic and Vic smiled back. They didn’t say
a word. Nadine and her big pink Caddy had made another conquest. Big Mike
hopped in the front passenger seat, sunglasses and big grin in place. Lacey sat
in the back between Vic and his dad. Nadine pulled the Caddy out of the
driveway and pointed her hood ornament at the open road.

#

“You didn’t have to drive him all over the countryside,”
Danny remarked after they dropped Michael back at his house and headed back to
the Donovan’s place in McLean. “You could see West Virginia from where we
turned around.”

“Just thanking him for the little home tour.” Nadine smiled
at her husband, a cat-licking-cream smile he knew very well. Danny was now in
the front seat, Vic and Lacey snuggled in the back.

Vic snickered. “Thank you, Nadine. It was a fascinating
afternoon. And now I know where I can get all my motorcycles repaired dirt
cheap. If I ever get one again.”

“Don’t taunt your mother,” Nadine said sweetly.

“You had a motorcycle?” Lacey asked.

“Dirt bikes first, then an old Triumph. Dad here helped me
get it running. It was a passing obsession when I was a teenager. Then I
discovered girls. Motorcycles don’t have back seats. Pink Cadillacs do.”

“I nearly had heart failure every day when he was out riding
those things,” Nadine said. “I was so relieved when he switched his interests
to girls. Some girls. Not all of them.”

Lacey winked at Vic. “It was a lovely afternoon, Nadine. And
now I have a much better picture of the artist and her work. The green silk in
your painting wasn’t a fluke, it was one of her signatures.”

“Do you think it’s related to that dress?” Danny asked.

“Call it a strong gut feeling.”

“Universal synchronicity and gut feelings,” Nadine said. We’re
onto something here.”