Chapter Twenty-Two
Twenty-Two
By the time they reached the lobby of the gallery, Sophy had regained control of her badly rattled nerves. Luke was impressed by her fast recovery. She had grit, as the Boss would have said.
They made their way outside into the brightly lit sculpture garden and walked along the glowing path that would take them back to the inn.
There was a buzz in the atmosphere, he thought, and not all of it was coming from the unusual paranormal energy in the canyon.
Some of it—the good stuff, the vibe that hit his senses like an exhilarating tonic—was generated entirely by Sophy.
“I realize you have a lot of questions,” she said.
“Oh, yeah.”
“So do I. Unfortunately I don’t have many answers. Remember that police sketch artist I told you about?”
“The jerk who called you a succubus and took off running when he saw you without your sunglasses?”
“That jerk. Yes.”
“You think he did that installation?”
“I’m absolutely certain of it.”
“He told me his name was Vincent Grant.” Sophy clutched her wrap in one tight fist, crushing the delicate fabric. “He said I was his Muse. That was before he called me a succubus, of course.”
“You were okay with being a jerk’s Muse?”
Sophy slanted him a warning look. “At the time I was dating him I didn’t know he was a jerk. I was flattered.”
“Just asking a question. How did you meet him?”
“Vincent said he contacted me because he heard a detective talk about my ability to read a crime scene. He said he was curious because he wondered if I might have some psychic talent. He had some, too. He pointed out that we both did freelance work for the police so we probably had a few things in common. We agreed to meet for coffee. When we did, we recognized each other in the way that people with strong abilities do. You know how that is. It makes for a connection of sorts.”
“Not necessarily.”
She cleared her throat. “He had a few other things going for him, as well.”
“Let me guess. He was good-looking, dark, and brooding in a tortured, starving-artist way.”
“He wasn’t starving. He drove a nice car and he was expensively dressed. But yes, he was quite attractive. However, his real appeal was that he was one of those men who is very good at making conversation with women.”
“Conversation.”
“Vincent was intense, but when he talked to me, he focused on me, if you know what I mean.”
Luke ran the words through his dot-connecting algorithms a couple of times and gave up. He tried to ignore the cloud of impending doom that seemed to have taken up a position over his head.
“No,” he said. “If he was talking to you, who else would he focus on?”
“Himself. Never mind. The point is, Vincent didn’t try to convince me that he was a brilliant artist or that he had money.
He was eager to hear what I had to say about crime scene work, about art, about food.
Anything and everything. He said he valued my insights because my talent allowed me to see things that were hidden from him. ”
Luke tried to remember if he had ever asked her for her thoughts on her police work or art or food. He couldn’t remember having done so.
“You and I spend a lot of time talking,” he said, aware that he sounded defensive. “We’ve talked a lot since I landed on your doorstep in Mirror Lake. Pretty much nonstop.”
“That’s different,” she said in a flat tone that made it clear the statement was not open to argument. “Our association is a matter of necessity. We have no choice but to communicate.”
The term association was not promising, but communicate struck him as downright cold. “What does a Muse do?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Vincent said my aura had an inspiring effect on his creativity.”
“As pickup lines go, that doesn’t sound very original. I’ll bet artists have been using it for years. Make that centuries.”
“Before you offer any more of your own opinions, I would like to point out that being an artist’s Muse seemed like a nice change. More fun than working with people who think I’m weird and scary but want to use me anyway.”
The cloud of doom over his head was growing more ominous.
“For the record, I have never thought you were weird or scary,” he said.
“Fair point. Whatever else I can say about you, I admit that you don’t seem to be afraid of me.”
“You don’t have to sound disappointed.”
She gave him a fierce look.
“I assume you did a background check on Grant?” he continued.
“Of course,” she said, indignant. Then she sighed. “Well, sort of. I checked him out online. He had a website where he displayed his work. It looked legit.”
“He had a website? Past tense?”
“It’s gone now. After the pictures started popping up on my phone I tried to find him online again, but it was as if he never existed.”
“What pictures?”
“They are all variations on the same theme as that Succubus we just saw. A scary woman holding a set of chimes.” She paused. “The body of the man beneath her feet was new, however.”
“When did the pictures start arriving on your phone?” he asked.
“Three days after our last date.”
“Did you go to a restaurant or the theater? There might be some way to trace him.”
“No. We went to an alley where a murder had occurred a few years earlier.”
“An alley.”
“At midnight.”
“A murder scene in an alley at midnight. Your idea?”
“Well, yes.”
“You’re a real romantic, aren’t you?”
She raised her chin. “I decided it was time to run the test. It’s easier to read a scene in darkness, and for the record, I’m not interested in your views on my social life or lack thereof.”
“Can I just say that a date in a dark alley where a murder occurred sounds a little unusual?”
“You get used to it,” she said.
“I’ll take your word for it. Looks like we have a new problem.”
She frowned. “What?”
“We still don’t know how Deke and Bea got caught up in this thing, but now it looks like you might be a target.”
“Me?” She gave that a second to settle. “Okay, the Succubus sculpture turning up in the gallery tonight can’t be a total coincidence. But what about you? Maybe you’re a target. You and Deke both.”
“Or maybe we just happened to get in the way because of the old pact between the Wellses and the Harpers.”
“Another coincidence?”
“No,” he said. “A major miscalculation by whoever is running this op.”