The Black Painting. Neil Olson

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       6

      The diner was a mile from Morse’s house, at the first intersection going east. Anyone returning to Owl’s Point would pass this way. There was also a gas station, post office and antiques shop, but little activity this Monday morning. Little to attract Dave’s eye while he ate a late breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. He could not have said what he was watching for until the red Lexus sped by the window.

      Philip had shaken his hand when they parted. As if they were pals now, or at least co-conspirators. Dave did not know why it bothered him. He had worked for worse men, and very little had been asked of him so far. He had no inflated sense of his own honor, but there was something tainted about the attorney. About the whole family. They were people to avoid; Dave felt it on an instinctive level. Yet he’d accepted the check, and gave Morse his mobile number. Going to his car, he had stolen a glance back and caught a figure in a second-floor window. Near the back of the house, the master bedroom probably. It was her, Audrey. She examined a blouse in the window’s natural light, and it took a moment to realize she wore nothing but a white bra. She didn’t look up, but Dave had no doubt the show was for him. Before he averted his gaze, she turned around quickly. As if someone in the room behind had startled her. Yet she made no effort to cover herself.

      He had been trying to sort it all out—what the attorney really wanted, why Audrey had made an appearance, what was going on between the two of them—when her car shot by. She drove too fast. Any careless pedestrian would have been instant roadkill. In the minimum time it would take to find a place to turn around and come back, the Lexus reappeared and swung in next to his blue Taurus. She got out slowly and scanned the long window until she spotted him. Then waved. Dave did not wave back, but she bounded up the stairs and entered the little diner nevertheless.

      The same black jeans, but now she sported a pink blouse with the sleeves rolled, along with a turquoise bracelet and silver chain around her neck. Also fresh lipstick and eye shadow, which did not quite distract from the dark crescents of sleeplessness. She had the weathered look of a woman a few years older, a look Dave found appealing. Indeed, he was quite attracted to her, and the sooner he admitted that to himself the better he could resist.

      “Hey,” she said, sliding in across the table from him. “Mind if I join you?”

      “You already have. But I was just finishing.”

      “Doesn’t look like you enjoyed it.” She grabbed his coffee cup and took a swig, leaving a red smear on the white ceramic. “That is terrible,” she announced.

      “It is,” he agreed. “You didn’t give me time to warn you.”

      “I know you,” Audrey said, drilling him with those blue eyes. It struck him that she had a slightly crazed look, and Dave could not decide if it was natural or a put-on. “I could feel it right away, but it took a little while to figure out. You won’t remember me.”

      “I do.”

      “Really?” She seemed far too pleased. “They wouldn’t even let me talk to you.”

      “You managed to barge in anyway.”

      “For like thirty seconds before they hustled me out.”

      “You were too young,” Dave said. “It wasn’t allowed.”

      “I was fifteen. I made a statement to the police.”

      “And I got a copy of that.”

      “Maybe I didn’t tell them everything,” she said, letting that sit. He would not take the bait, and he could see that she had no patience. “So what’s the story, Dave? Did my uncle hire you to investigate something?”