Page 25 of Close Up

“I see. I hope he’s making it.”

“You know how it is, we all chip in. We’re getting by. What’s your line?”

“I’m not sure yet but I’m starting to think that sales might not be a good career path for me. I don’t think I have the right personality for it.”

“So, you’re looking for work?”

“You could say that. I’m hoping to convince Miss Brazier that she needs an assistant.”

That sounded good, Nick decided. Logical. Reasonable. A perfectly acceptable explanation for standing out here in Vivian’s front yard.

Sam grinned. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. Miss Brazier’s a real popular photographer. All the guys who work out on Muscle Beach want her to take their pictures.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

“Personally, I’m a student of Charles Atlas.” Sam got anevangelical glint in his eyes. “Are you familiar with his theory of Dynamic Tension?”

The problem with dealing with those who devoted themselves to developing the perfect body was that they tended to be obsessed with the subject.

“I’ve seen the ads in the magazines,” Nick said.

“It’s an amazing system,” Sam said. “It utilizes the power of one’s own muscles to develop strength and stamina. I’m here to tell you it has changed my life. Before I started the program I never could have gotten a job as a lifeguard. But in just seven days after starting the exercises I was on my way to becoming a new man.”

“Is that right? What happened to the old one?”

The door opened abruptly. Nick exhaled a small sigh of relief. He and Sam and Rex all turned to look at Vivian. She no longer appeared as if she was going to run for the hills, but there was a new kind of subtle tension about her.

“You’d better come inside,” she said to Nick. Her voice was cool and firm. “Sam, would you mind coming back a little later? Say an hour from now?”

“Sure, Miss Brazier,” Sam said. “See you.”

He waved and trotted back toward the path that led to the beach.

Vivian waited until he was gone. Then she retreated into the hallway and silently invited Nick and Rex to enter. They followed her into a dining room that had been converted into an office.

Nick understood. Vivian lived alone. She didn’t need a dining room any more than he did.

There were matted photographs on every wall of the office. The subject matter varied. Moody landscapes, portraits that hinted at the sitters’ most closely held secrets, and street scenes covered most of the available display space.

One picture stood out from the others because the style was quite different. It was an image of a gaudy carousel that had beenmanipulated in the printing process to make it look as if the horses were being ridden by wild-eyed ghosts. The result was eerie and macabre and, in some way he could not explain, humorous.

Something about the spectral riders caught his attention. He took a closer look and smiled to himself. Each of the ghosts had the same face, that of a man with sharp features and shoulder-length hair swept back from a dramatic widow’s peak. Each ghost had a camera hanging from a strap around his neck. But the cameras appeared to be so large and heavy they acted as anchors. A carousel of the damned doomed to take endless photographs in hell.

“A year and a half ago I took a photography class from an instructor who favored the pictorial style,” Vivian explained. “It’s not my style but I wanted to learn the techniques. That picture was a class project.”

Nick looked at her. “Did you pass the class?”

“Nope.” She dropped into the chair behind the desk and gave him a chilly smile. “I quit. The instructor said my work was sentimental and that it lacked genuine artistic vision. He also said a few other things when he saw that picture.”

“Because he realized it’s a photographic joke featuring him?”

Vivian blinked, evidently surprised that he had noticed the humor in the image. He might be a poor excuse for a traveling salesman but he could see facts when they were right in front of him.

“Exactly,” she said. “When he saw it, he understood that it was my way of telling him that he and his artistic vision could go to hell. That image is technically perfect, by the way. I will admit I learned a few things in the class. Forget my pictures. Evidently I have bigger problems than a failure of artistic vision.”

Nick studied her in silence for a couple of beats, trying to figure out exactly how she was reacting to his bombshell. But it was hard to get a read on Vivian Brazier. She was a mystery. A lot of people, male or female, would have been in hysterics by now.

“What did Detective Archer tell you?” he said.

---