Page 52 of Insidious Threats
“Oh, I doubt it. We’re not local—we drove up from Pittsburgh.” Ellie reconsidered. “Although, Dadisin town right now. He’s been in residence at Light on the River since August.”
The painter nodded. “You’re Chuck’s daughter?”
Sasha was about to correct him when she remembered Cinco’s given namewasCharles. She wouldn’t have pegged him as a ‘Chuck,’ but maybe there was another side to Cinco that she knew nothing about. Based on the cough that Ellie choked out, she also wasn’t acquainted with her father’s inner Chuck.
“Um, yeah. He’s my dad.”
He stuck out his right hand. “Pleased to meet you Chuck’s daughter. I’m Vern.”
“Hi, Vern. Ellie Prescott, and this is my … um, boss, Sasha.”
Vern pumped Sasha’s hand. “Pleased to meet you both. You ladies here to visit with Chuck?”
“Right. It’s a surprise,” Sasha told Vern. “We’re in the area for work so we thought we’d pop in. We got rooms in town for the night. Isn’t the artist colony near here, though? Maybe we’ll stop in to say hi before we check in at the inn.”
He chewed on his lower lip. “Well, now. Light on the River is just yonder, over that rise.” He jerked a thumb behind him. “But I hope you didn’t detour too far out of your way, because I don’t think Chuck’s there.”
Ellie frowned. “Where else would he be?”
“I don’t rightly know. But I haven’t seen him around in, let’s see, it’s been several weeks, if I recall correctly.” He thought for a moment. “Yeah. Last time I saw him was before the new year. He was buying oils at Russell’s Art Supply in town. Haven’t laid eyes on him since. Tell you the truth, I assumed he’d moved on.”
“Back to Pittsburgh, you mean?” Sasha asked. ‘Moved on’ struck her as an odd way to say ‘went home.’
“For some reason, I have it in my mind that he might be heading to Stratford after this.”
“Stratford?”
“Little town a lot like this one up in Ontario.”
“He told you he was going to Canada?”
After she asked the question, she flicked her eyes toward Ellie to gauge her reaction to this suggestion. Her face was taut with tension.
Vern grimaced. “I can’t say for sure. He might’ve or I might’ve picked it up from someone at the tavern. There’s a pub in town—Cole’s—caters to us artistic sorts. Chuck was a regular.” Vern chuckled at a memory. “Your dad’s quite particular about his martinis. He about drove Leona mad before she finally started making them to his liking.”
“Up, extra dry, two olives,” Ellie recited.
“Yep, that’s it, all right. It was the extra dry bit that kept tripping Leona up. No matter how little vermouth she put in, it was too much.” Vern leaned in and stage whispered, “Shouldn’t tell you this, but Leona confessed she started just pretending to add a splash. Once she left it out, then he declared it perfect.”
Now, this sounded more like the Cinco Sasha knew.
Ellie giggled. “I’ll have to pass that tip along to my mom.” Then her face fell, and Sasha knew she was wondering if Gillian would ever have use for that knowledge.
Sasha turned to Vern. “I think we’ve held you up long enough, Vern. It sure gets cold fast up here after the sun goes down. Thanks for sharing your work with us.”
“It’s my pleasure. Sorry you may have made the trip for nothing, but check in at the colony before you head into town. They might know if he’s coming back here.” He glanced at his watch and frowned. “Poppy’s probably working reception this time of the evening. She can be prickly. If she gives you a hard time, go grab a bite and try again after nine. Pete works the night shift. He’s a good egg.”
“I appreciate the inside info,” Sasha told him.
“Of course. Oh, and if you’re looking for dinner, Cole’s serves food, too. Nothing fancy, but it’s good.” He touched his fingers to the brim of his felt hat in an old-fashioned gesture, then started to load his supplies into the station wagon.
Sasha and Ellie turned and ran to their car, their heads lowered against the biting wind. They raced inside and slammed the doors closed. Ellie started the engine while Sasha checked the GPS directions to the art colony. Once the air from the heater was blowing warm, she cranked up the temperature and held her bare hands in front of the vent. Ellie watched out of the corner of her eye and then followed suit.
“We should’ve worn gloves,” Sasha said.
“Or snowsuits. I think the temperature must’ve dropped by twenty degrees once the sun went down. Vern’s brave to paint out there in this weather.
“Brave or foolish.”
