Framed by Nikki Andrews Page A

signature. Ginny leaned over it and studied it for a long moment. Her finger reached out and traced the air above the letters.
    “Ginny?” Elsie murmured. “What do you think?”
    She raised her head and tore her eyes from the painting. “I think,” she said in a strained voice. She cleared her throat and began again. “I think we have it. I’m sure now. Jerry Berger painted this picture.” She straightened and seemed for a moment to look inward, and then she shook herself. “That’s great. I was pretty sure before, but this clinches it. Wow! This is wonderful. Good work, Sue. It looks so much better. Is there much more to do?”
    “I just want to finish the horizontal pass. There was a lot of muck here in the bottom, so I need to make sure I got it all out. And…” she hesitated.
    “Yes?” Ginny prompted.
    Sue told her about Jemmie and his reaction. Elsie commented that he’d seemed very subdued when he left. Ginny shook her head.
    “Well, there’s nothing we can do about him. Finish up, Sue, and let me know when you’re done. I’ll want to call Jenna in then.”
    As Ginny headed upstairs and Elsie went back to her project, Sue bent to the job again. As she moved higher on the image, she uncovered a series of reddish dots and strokes, incongruous against the grayish granite rocks. There was even a puddle of red underneath an alder bush emerging from the murk on the right side of the painting. Could Jerry have meant to add in some additional color in those places? How odd that he hadn’t finished them. Or maybe, she considered, he’d been about to change something, but she couldn’t imagine what it could be.
    At last she reached the top of the painting and sat back to look at it from a distance. No hidden squirrels popped out from the trees, nor any herons stalking fish in the distant pond. Only that line of red. It led from Abby’s outstretched right hand, down the rocks, across the ground, and under the alders. Sue’s scalp prickled. What could it mean? She lowered her head until her nose almost touched the paint. She peered at the drops below the hand and caught her breath.
    “Elsie? Would you bring the magnifying glass out here, please?”
    “What is it?” Her colleague peered over her shoulder. “Did you find something else?”
    Sue pointed to the red dots and strokes in the middle of the picture. “Yeah, but it’s weird. I want to look at these red bits.” She chose a spot and put the glass above it, straining her eyes to see better. She muttered something under her breath, poked with a tentative swab, then looked under the bushes. She handed the glass to Elsie. “What do you see?”
    Elsie wiped the glass with a finger and looked. She moved it away and looked at the unmagnified bit, wiped the glass more thoroughly with a corner of cloth, and looked again. “I think the red stuff was added later,” she said in a low voice. “What do you think?”
    “I think you’re right. It looks like it might be watercolor paste.” The face she lifted to Elsie was pale. “I think Jerry was trying to tell the world something. I think it’s supposed to be blood.”
    “Should we take it off?”
    Sue chewed her lip. Her impulse was to forge ahead and clean off the red substance, but she thought better of it. “I want a witness to this. Let’s leave it on for now, and get Ginny down here. And maybe Tom DiAndreo.”
    “You think it means something?”
    “At the very least I want him to witness the condition of the painting before we go any further. And we should get some photos, too.”

Chapter Fourteen
    Less than an hour later, Ginny looked at the cleaned painting again and agreed the red stuff had been added after the picture was completed. She didn’t think much of it, however, and it was only after thinking about Jemmie’s reaction that she consented to call in Tom DiAndreo. She didn’t believe it was urgent, though, so when Tom suggested an appointment a week later she didn’t argue.