began, but then she saw Jemmie’s face. He turned a ghastly shade of paste, and then flushed so dark she feared he might burst a blood vessel.
“She’s dead!” He pointed a shaky finger at the model. “He killed her! Oh, God, she’s dead!”
Sue leaped to her feet and yelled for Elsie. “Yes, of course, Jemmie.” She grasped his arm and spoke soothingly. “It was a long time ago. It’s okay, Jemmie, relax.”
“He killed her! Out in the snow!”
Sue frowned. Why was this death so vivid to him? “Who killed her? Do you know?”
Elsie skidded into view, the phone in one hand and a box cutter in the other. Sue gave her a small signal with her hand, trying to let her know she shouldn’t interfere. Jemmie, lost in the past, didn’t seem to hear her question, but he was calming down, taking a visible hold on himself.
He forced an apology out between clenched teeth. Shudders still passed through him. “Sorry. It was that artist, wasn’t it? That’s what the papers said. The artist killed her.”
“Did you know her?” Sue kept her voice soft to calm him.
Jemmie drew a deep breath, as if he was waking from a nightmare. “I knew her. She was a customer. So pretty. I designed a few pieces for her. Wonderful lady. Great taste. Such a shock. Such a shame.”
“It was,” Sue agreed, though she hadn’t known either of the victims. Elsie gestured with the phone as if to call for help, but Sue gave a shake of her head. “Are you okay now, Jemmie?”
He shuddered, but his voice was stronger. “I’m fine, fine. I’m—I’m sorry I scared you, Sue. Um—just close the door?”
She patted his arm. “I’ll be working out here for a while yet, and then I’ll let the fumes air out, but I promise I’ll close the door, Jemmie.”
He straightened his broad shoulders, gave her a nod, and stumbled away. He couldn’t resist a backward glance.
“Whew!” Elsie whistled. “That was too close! Are you okay?”
Sue nodded, thinking hard as she watched his retreating back. “I’m okay, Elsie. I’m glad you were here. He certainly reacted strangely to this painting.”
“We should tell Ginny about it.”
“You better believe it.”
“She’s with a customer right now. I heard the doorbell just before Jemmie came over.”
Sue sighed. “I’d better get back to this before he freaks out again. Let me know when Ginny’s free.”
Elsie returned to the newspaper piece, and Sue picked up her cleaning cloth. Her hand was shaking. She put the cloth down again and took some deep breaths while she thought. Why should Jemmie get so hyper about a painting of a long-dead customer? Why should he insist, “He killed her”? He was a bundle of surprises, no doubt about that. She considered his frog obsession, and the way he yelled at his staff. For a moment there, Sue had felt really threatened. If Elsie hadn’t been present… She shrugged. Jemmie yelled a lot, but he hadn’t ever hurt anyone. So why did she keep thinking about all those sharp things? Maybe she’d better talk to Ginny about that, too.
She sighed again and returned to her work. She began the horizontal cleaning now, working methodically from left to right. The foreground was thick with paint, and she used a lot more cotton swabs to be sure she removed all the grime stuck in the brushstrokes. They came away gray or brown with grease and smoke, and the painting began to brighten up. There were more colors among the leaves and underbrush, and even the rocks began to glow. And sure enough, Jerry’s signature, as clear as could be, showed up in the lower right.
“Elsie! I found the signature!” Her coworker dashed up, with more confidence this time, and examined the cleaned patch.
“Well, I’m not the expert, but that sure looks like his signature. I’m getting Ginny, whether she’s with a customer or not.”
In short order, Ginny clattered down the stairs behind Elsie, breathless in her excitement. Sue rotated the painting to reveal the
“She’s dead!” He pointed a shaky finger at the model. “He killed her! Oh, God, she’s dead!”
Sue leaped to her feet and yelled for Elsie. “Yes, of course, Jemmie.” She grasped his arm and spoke soothingly. “It was a long time ago. It’s okay, Jemmie, relax.”
“He killed her! Out in the snow!”
Sue frowned. Why was this death so vivid to him? “Who killed her? Do you know?”
Elsie skidded into view, the phone in one hand and a box cutter in the other. Sue gave her a small signal with her hand, trying to let her know she shouldn’t interfere. Jemmie, lost in the past, didn’t seem to hear her question, but he was calming down, taking a visible hold on himself.
He forced an apology out between clenched teeth. Shudders still passed through him. “Sorry. It was that artist, wasn’t it? That’s what the papers said. The artist killed her.”
“Did you know her?” Sue kept her voice soft to calm him.
Jemmie drew a deep breath, as if he was waking from a nightmare. “I knew her. She was a customer. So pretty. I designed a few pieces for her. Wonderful lady. Great taste. Such a shock. Such a shame.”
“It was,” Sue agreed, though she hadn’t known either of the victims. Elsie gestured with the phone as if to call for help, but Sue gave a shake of her head. “Are you okay now, Jemmie?”
He shuddered, but his voice was stronger. “I’m fine, fine. I’m—I’m sorry I scared you, Sue. Um—just close the door?”
She patted his arm. “I’ll be working out here for a while yet, and then I’ll let the fumes air out, but I promise I’ll close the door, Jemmie.”
He straightened his broad shoulders, gave her a nod, and stumbled away. He couldn’t resist a backward glance.
“Whew!” Elsie whistled. “That was too close! Are you okay?”
Sue nodded, thinking hard as she watched his retreating back. “I’m okay, Elsie. I’m glad you were here. He certainly reacted strangely to this painting.”
“We should tell Ginny about it.”
“You better believe it.”
“She’s with a customer right now. I heard the doorbell just before Jemmie came over.”
Sue sighed. “I’d better get back to this before he freaks out again. Let me know when Ginny’s free.”
Elsie returned to the newspaper piece, and Sue picked up her cleaning cloth. Her hand was shaking. She put the cloth down again and took some deep breaths while she thought. Why should Jemmie get so hyper about a painting of a long-dead customer? Why should he insist, “He killed her”? He was a bundle of surprises, no doubt about that. She considered his frog obsession, and the way he yelled at his staff. For a moment there, Sue had felt really threatened. If Elsie hadn’t been present… She shrugged. Jemmie yelled a lot, but he hadn’t ever hurt anyone. So why did she keep thinking about all those sharp things? Maybe she’d better talk to Ginny about that, too.
She sighed again and returned to her work. She began the horizontal cleaning now, working methodically from left to right. The foreground was thick with paint, and she used a lot more cotton swabs to be sure she removed all the grime stuck in the brushstrokes. They came away gray or brown with grease and smoke, and the painting began to brighten up. There were more colors among the leaves and underbrush, and even the rocks began to glow. And sure enough, Jerry’s signature, as clear as could be, showed up in the lower right.
“Elsie! I found the signature!” Her coworker dashed up, with more confidence this time, and examined the cleaned patch.
“Well, I’m not the expert, but that sure looks like his signature. I’m getting Ginny, whether she’s with a customer or not.”
In short order, Ginny clattered down the stairs behind Elsie, breathless in her excitement. Sue rotated the painting to reveal the
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