The Secret Portrait by Carl Lillian Stewart

Author:Carl, Lillian Stewart [Carl, Lillian Stewart]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, General, Historical, Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 1557429235
Google: VjZta8bPIZ4C
Amazon: 1557429235
Publisher: Wildside Press
Published: 2006-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

Wall sconces shaped like candles looked good but shed little light into the darkness of the hall. Hunching her shoulders, Jean strode off toward the entrance, harboring some vague idea of talking to Cameron. She’d accumulated more than a few bits and pieces of information over the last few hours. Whether any of it or none of it helped the investigation was for him to decide, as he would no doubt remind her.

Vanessa, Fiona, and Charlotte were all capable of doing a composite British-American accent. In the anonymous phone call sweepstakes, though, Fiona was in the lead. The caller’s accent had been impeccably American, not Charlotte’s mocking exaggeration.

And of all three women Fiona was the only one to express caution about George’s activities. Charlotte dismissed him out of hand.

Vanessa saw him as a benign annoyance.

One problem with that theory, though, was that of the three, Fiona seemed the least likely to make waves. The other was that Cameron, otherwise an intelligent person, refused to consider Fiona a suspect.

Jean’s stride slowed into a mosey, which stopped at the foot of the staircase. Cameron wouldn’t appreciate her butting in right now, not when he was dealing with another death. Instead of talking to him, she could—yeah, she could collect some more information.

Not fooling herself one bit, Jean doubled back down the hall and pushed through the kitchen door.

The room was lit only by the small light above the stove. Fiona sat alone at the table, silhouetted against the window, Clarinda tucked up on her lap. Or at least part of the cat was on Fiona’s lap.

Her tail and a couple of legs didn’t quite fit and hung down on either side. The two faces turned toward the door. “May I help you, Miss Fairbairn?” asked Fiona.

“I thought I could help you wash the dishes or something.” Jean knew very well how confidences could be exchanged over a dishtowel.

“We’ve got an automatic dishwasher, thank you.” Fiona’s profile turned back to the window. Clarinda laid her head down again.

Jean remembered the hours she’d spent cuddling Dougie and staring out her window, lost in memory and regret. So what was Fiona remembering and regretting? Being driven to murder? Or something personal, like a good marriage lost or a bad marriage never abandoned?

Fiona’s silence was so profound Jean felt like an intruder. Deciding she could wait awhile before turning over any more emotional rocks, she made an about-face and went back out into the hall.

Now what? She glanced warily from the corner of her eye toward the game larder… Behind her the dining room door slammed open.

She jerked back against the wall, hands raised defensively.

Rick walked out of the room, his cell phone pressed to his ear.

“Kieran. Where are you? Well, when you get rid of the cops come up to the office. We need to make plans.” With a beep he switched off the phone and disappeared up the staircase.

A well-developed startle reflex was nothing to apologize for.

Jean peeled herself off the wall and ducked into the familiar but less than reassuring cube of the sitting room.

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