Page 93 of Close Up

She could feel Fenella’s eyes burning holes between her shoulder blades all the way across the shadowed showroom. She did not take a deep breath until she was outside on the tree-shaded sidewalk. Her anger faded as she walked halfway down the block to where she had parked Lyra’s speedster. She put the portfolio in the trunk and got behind the wheel.

She had just put the last nail in the coffin of her Adelina Beach career, but now that she knew about the rumors, she realized there had never been any hope in the first place. All was not lost. She was going to have two pictures from her Men series in the Ashwood Gallery show. If they got some positive attention and maybe even sold, she would have a chance in the world of fine art.

She was still sitting behind the wheel, trying to get a handle on her plans for the future, when a cab pulled up in front of the gallery. Fenella walked out of the shop and got into the back of the taxi. The vehicle sped off.

Vivian was so preoccupied with her thoughts that it took her a moment to realize she was getting a weird feeling on the back of her neck.A tiny whisper of ghostly energy. It occurred to her that there was something wrong with the street scene in front of her.

She realized she was focusing on the empty parking space in front of the gallery entrance.What’s wrong with the composition of this picture?she thought. Something was off. The sidewalks were empty. There was virtually no traffic in the street. The elegant shops and boutiques had closed for the day.

It finally struck her that Fenella Penfield had gone home in a taxi, not her prized Duesenberg. The elegant sedan had not been parked in front of the gallery that day.

Fenella liked to be seen driving through town in the big car. She used it as a marketing device, a visual indication of the classiness of the Penfield Gallery. It sent a clear message. But evidently she had not driven the sedan to work that day. Perhaps it was in a garage for some routine maintenance.

Or repairs.

The small chill on the back of Vivian’s neck turned to ice.Don’t let your imagination run wild.Nevertheless, she could not shake the ominous sensation that was welling up from the shadows. A thought surfaced and burned in her mind—to her knowledge the Burning Cove Police had not yet found the car that had killed Toby Flint. The vehicle Jonathan Treyherne had been driving the night he attacked Nick had shown no indications of having been in an accident. The theory was that Treyherne had used a stolen car to murder Flint but as of yet there was no evidence to support that notion.

The Dagger Killer had been one of Fenella’s clients. Vivian reminded herself that was not an odd coincidence. Deverell-Feathergill had been wealthy and he had lived in Adelina Beach. Wealthy people in Adelina Beach bought art from Fenella Penfield. It made perfect sense that he had shopped at the Penfield Gallery.

Another little electric thrill swept through Vivian. The authorities had found some photographic equipment at the Deverell-Feathergillmansion, but there had been no report of any negatives or prints having been discovered in there.

She had been certain that when the police found the Dagger Killer they would find a portfolio of the death scenes.

A prickling sensation raised the fine hairs on her arms.Something wicked this way comes.

Probably not a good time to be recalling that particular quote from Shakespeare. But it ignited yet another memory. Toby Flint had mentioned that at one time he’d had dreams of a career in art photography. He had been living in Adelina Beach when he’d had those dreams. He would have encountered Fenella Penfield.

Again, so what?

Her thoughts continued to circle but they kept coming back to the simple fact that the car that had been used to murder Toby Flint had not been found.

And now the Duesenberg that was always parked in front of the Penfield Gallery was—if not missing—unaccounted for. Fenella Penfield had gone home in a taxi.

She thought about the rage in Fenella’s eyes when she had called the Men series porn.

Why do you hate me so much, Fenella Penfield? Because I’m the future of photography and you’re the past?

Vivian turned the key in the ignition and eased the speedster away from the curb. She motored sedately to the corner, turned right, and cruised slowly past the entrance to the alley behind the Penfield Gallery. There was one lone delivery truck parked behind a shop.

The fashionable street of boutiques and galleries had once been a block of stylish houses. The homes had each had garages that opened onto the alley. Most had no doubt been converted into storage facilities for the shops.

She drove on a short distance, pulled into a parking space, and stopped, trying to decide what to do next. There would be nothingillegal about taking a quick look through the window of the garage behind the Penfield Gallery. It wasn’t as if she would be breaking into the shop. You couldn’t get arrested for looking into a garage window, could you?

And surely you couldn’t get arrested for taking a photo of whatever you saw when you looked through that window, assuming you noticed something of interest.

She got out, opened the trunk, and picked up the Speed Graphic. It was already loaded with film and a fresh flashbulb. Every photographer who covered crimes and fires made sure to keep a camera handy and ready to go.

She slung the strap of the camera over one shoulder and walked briskly to the entrance of the alley. She arrived just in time to see a deliveryman emerge from the rear door of a shop. He jumped up into the front seat of his truck and drove off toward the far end of the narrow lane.

She waited until she was sure he was gone and then went quickly toward the garage behind the Penfield Gallery. Her anxiety spiked with each step. Once again she reminded herself that what she planned to do was not illegal. It was, however, very likely a waste of time.

She hurried to the grimy window on the side of the garage and peered into the gloom-filled space. The Duesenberg was inside. The stylish hood ornament was bent and twisted to one side. One front headlight was broken. There was a crack in the windshield.

Vivian got a little light-headed. She stepped back and tried to think clearly. First things first. She had to take a photo and get out of the alley. There was a phone booth on the corner. She would call Nick immediately.

A footstep behind her was all the warning she got before Fenella spoke.

“Turn around,” Fenella said. “Slowly. One false move and I’ll pull the trigger.”

---