Stroke of Death

by Dale Mayer

  “Who is they? And why not?”

  “Because the designs were in the safe the whole time. No one has seen them,” she said.

  *

  Richard slammed down the phone, then scrubbed his face with both palms. Shit was hitting the fan, and they were close to figuring this out, but close only counted in horseshoes. And this was no game.

  He packed up an overnight bag and walked out of his apartment. He stopped to pick up a coffee at the service truck he’d been at several times to see if the homeless man had returned.

  Hildie looked up at him, smiled, handed him his cup of coffee wordlessly, then motioned around the side of her truck. In a low whisper, she said, “He’s there. But go easy. He’s really fragile.”

  Surprised, but his heart slamming against his chest, Richard shifted to the picnic table close by, where he could see his quarry.

  Sure enough, a disheveled-looking man in an oversize coat huddled on the ground, hugging a cup of coffee. His eyes were runny, as if he were fighting a cold. And a blank stare filled his gaze. Instinctively Richard knew this couldn’t be his killer. Not enough cognitive function was evident there to kill and then to skin his victims, like their killer had. But Richard had been wrong before.

  “Look at his energy,” Stefan murmured at his side.

  Richard turned to look, then realized he was alone. Using his peripheral vision, he could see the glowing gold at his shoulder.

  “Now that you’ve seen my energy, look at his.”

  Slowly, keeping his head lowered to not scare off the homeless man, Richard lifted his phone and used it as a distraction as he studied Halo’s energy.

  It was dark, snaky, fragmented. Broken. Like the man inside. Richard took several photos of the man, who sat frozen in place, staring at something lost in time. Along with his coffee, he clutched what looked like a large cross—among many around his neck—muttering something to it, almost like a litany of prayer.

  “Can he be fixed?” Richard muttered to Stefan.

  “Maybe,” Stefan said. “But those bits and pieces of displaced energy? … That’s what his mind looks like too. Past trauma he can’t deal with.”

  “Poor bastard. Why is there never any help for people like this?”

  “Because it happened a long time ago. We all have coping methods that work for a while, but slowly those barriers they erect start breaking down, and we see things like this.”

  “Can you see into his childhood?”

  “Do I have to?” Stefan asked, fatigue in his voice. “It’s abuse as a child. Mother and father. Possibly a brother. Hard to say. The images are all torn apart, and the pieces bundled together for safekeeping.”

  “You’d think he wouldn’t want to keep any of these memories.” Richard sure as hell wouldn’t.

  “It’s all he has of his childhood.”

  Then, without warning, in a voice that made the hair on the back of Richard’s neck rise, Stefan and the homeless man started to sing at the same time.

  “Good boy. Bad boy. Good boy. Bad boy.”

  *

  Later that evening he asked if she’d shown up for her new appointment today with Cayce. She nodded and said, “It went well.”

  He smiled.

  She looked at him and said gently, “I’m not leaving you, you know?”

  He sagged in place. “You probably should.”

  She walked over, gently reached up a hand, and said, “Frankie, an accident caused this. As soon as you heal and are relaxed about it, your art will come back.”

  He leaned into her hand. “Maybe,” he whispered. “But it feels like I’ll never be as good as I was before.”

  “You will be,” she said gently. “You just need time. And I don’t really care about being a body model. I’m doing this because you feel like I need to.”

  “I just know that Cayce made Elena’s career, and maybe she could make it for you too.”

  “I get the idea that Elena and Cayce shared a special bond,” she said.

  “But you did see her today?” he asked anxiously.

  She chuckled. “I did see her. She was just walking out of her gallery with some guy, but she stopped, came back in, and said that what she was doing was a favor to you. I don’t need you to do me favors. I want to make it on my own.”

  “But—”

  He froze when she put a finger on his lips. “No buts,” she whispered. “Just let it be.”

  “She did say that she’s got the next two art pieces picked out. Yet she’ll be trying a bunch of new models,” he rushed to add.

  “And that’s good,” she said comfortably. “I also have a photo shoot tomorrow. Remember?”

  He beamed. “You’ll make it. You’ll be famous,” he whispered.

  “I don’t want to be famous,” she said. “I’m happy where I am now.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t even see how that’s possible. I couldn’t even begin to be happy with where I’m at now.”

  “Because you know that, prior to your accident, you were something different,” she said. “And I think that’s where the problem is. You’re trying to recapture something that maybe is gone, but you’re not willing to try something that’s very new and different.”

  “I don’t know,” he said, his gaze darting to the side and the door that he kept locked.

  “Anyway,” she said, “I’m going to bed. I’m really tired.” She got up and turned to look at him. “Are you coming now?”

  “I’ll stay and work for a little bit,” he said. He stood, walked over, gave her a gentle kiss and a hug. “I’m so blessed to have you in my world.”

  “Just keep remembering that,” she said with a laugh.

  He watched as she walked out, headed to the bedroom. He’d have a good couple hours in order to make some of whatever it was that he wanted to produce now. The trouble was, it was just so damn hard to produce when he wanted to.

  He waited until she was through in the bathroom and then listened as she got into bed. Afterward he turned and headed to his locked room.

  Just as he reached for the doorknob, she called out, “Maybe you shouldn’t work tonight.”

  “Why is that?”

  She said, “Because I’d much rather have you spend that time with me.”

  He froze, chuckled, and said, “Does that mean you want some nookie-nookie time?”

  She chuckled. “I’ve never known you to refuse a bit of cuddling.”

  “Hell no,” he said. “I’m coming right now.” He turned and walked away from his locked door. Whatever was behind that door could wait. At least for tonight.

  *

  It was going better. It was going much, much better. He smiled in joy as he looked at his paintings. He almost had it. Another few days, few weeks, few months—it didn’t really matter because he had improved so much that he clapped his hands in joy.

  Finally dropping the paintbrush into the large jar that he kept for just that reason, he stepped back, wiping his hands on this smock. She would love it. He just knew she would love it. He didn’t know if she got the message over the signature or not. He often found that women didn’t have the connective brain matter to understand the importance of such slight differences like that. Did she understand that she was improving his work and that soon she would be the next? He hoped so. It would make the transition that much easier for her.

  The ice show was only two days away. Time had passed at an incredible pace. But he was ready. He was so ready. He just needed to see her amid her artwork one more time. He figured that would do. Maybe one more model, one more opportunity.

  He glanced around his room, shadowy dark, full of myriad paintings and attempts. He could see and track his progress as he moved his gaze from wall to wall to wall. It looked so damn good, and he was so proud and so happy with what he’d managed to get done already. He walked to the sink and washed his hands. He straightened, stretched, and rolled his shoulders.

  In the background he could hear somebody crying
out. But he ignored it. There were always odd sounds. He ignored them. He would have to deal with them soon. But that wasn’t his problem right now. With that big rosy glow of accomplishment filling him, he turned and headed to his bed. Of all the things he needed, most of all was sleep.

  Chapter 21

  An uneasy truce and a weird atmosphere to the air seemed to hang around Richard and Cayce for the next couple days. Their relationship was moving forward as close friends, really close, but not yet lovers. The entire time Richard stayed with her at night, sharing her bed. She looked forward to seeing him at the end of the day. She looked forward to waking up and seeing his face the next morning. Since that first night when he had moved into her bed, he’d shown no inclination to leave. And she was just as guilty of letting him stay. She should never have let it happen in the first place. Yet she was happy that she did.

  So far, their relationship was platonic, as if realizing crossing that line right now was something neither were prepared to do. She wanted him to focus on the case, and she didn’t want him to get in trouble for any relationship that the two of them had. Their relationship was friendly, intimate, and yet on the edge of being more. It gave her time to get to know him. It gave her a chance to spend time with him without the added pressure of dating and/or sex. She was really enjoying that.

  Something was really special about a man who moved in to care for her without pushing her on a completely different level. Even though she was so ready for that next part of this relationship.

  After her second day off, she was completely bored, and, on day three, she headed back to her gallery. The guard walked with her then left her there. “I’ll leave you here as long as you stay inside. And I’ll let Richard know you’re here.”

  “Sounds good, thanks.”

  She knew Richard really wanted her to stay home because he wanted her to stay safe, and he equated the two. But that wasn’t something she was prepared to believe.

  When she walked into the gallery, Anita looked up and smiled. “I wondered if you were ever coming back,” she teased. “I was wondering if I needed to cancel the arctic piece.”

  “Absolutely I’m here,” Cayce said with a bright smile which fell away at the mention of cancelling the show. She shouldn’t have taken off as much time as she had. “I’ll have to get over to the arctic installation and take a look.” All thoughts about her promise to the guard forgotten.”

  “Good point,” Anita said. “I also need signatures, and you have a pile of messages.”

  She looked at the stack and groaned. “Maybe I’ll do the installation first,” she said, backing out of her gallery.

  Anita shook her head. “You can’t walk away from this. I need to deal with them today.”

  “I’ll be back in an hour.” She checked her watch, shook her head, and said, “Make that two.” And, with that, she bolted from her gallery.

  As she stood outside, she took several deep breaths, wondering if there was another way to run her life that didn’t involve having an office where she was forced to deal with this stuff; yet she really didn’t want Anita or anybody else in her house on a full-time basis. And she definitely needed full-time staff to handle the bulk of the business affairs, so her options were limited. Rather than drive again, she walked a little farther than she was comfortable with, but she hadn’t been outside for a couple days and wanted the fresh air.

  She shoved her hands in her pockets and kept on walking, her mind thinking about her office problem. She didn’t have to have quite the same size gallery, if that’s what bothered her. She thought it was just the business side of life that irritated her. Was there any way that Anita could do some of this and take it off Cayce’s plate? Maybe that was something Cayce needed to look at. But then that also meant handing over control. Although Anita had worked for her for a couple years, if she ever quit, it would leave Cayce completely clueless as to what Anita did for her. The more control Cayce handed over, the harder it was to regain it.

  As she made her way to the arctic project, she heard a call from behind her. She turned to see Frankie racing to catch up. She stopped and waited for him.

  “Good to see you,” he said, in a breathless voice.

  “I wanted to make sure this installation was ready to go,” she said.

  He nodded. “As far as I know it is.”

  “When were you there last?”

  “Two days ago, with you,” he said.

  Something about his words made her insides a little bit unsettled. “And there’s no reason that we should have posted security for it, right?” she asked hesitantly.

  He looked at her curiously. “We never have before.”

  She nodded and hurried faster. The thought of redoing a background of that size made her heartsick. It would take her days. She didn’t want to think about something like that. But it was a possibility.

  When she got to the art center and stood before the wall that she had been busily working with over the past week, she was relieved to see that it was still covered with canvas and that the scaffolding was still in place.

  Frankie looked at it as well. “Did you really expect it to be damaged?”

  Her shoulders sagged with relief. “It’s so beautiful, but I had never contemplated vandalism on these pieces until just now. And these sites for my installations all have insurance coverage through their owners, but that’s just about money. It’s not about my time and my creativity invested already in these,” she said, shaking her head. “I should probably have my own security on these pieces from now on, while the artwork is in progress, even starting with this one. I’ll get with Anita to set that up.” She let out a huge sigh. “All I can say is, I’m just grateful that it seems fine.” But, just to be sure, she walked over, opened up some of the canvas coverings, and looked underneath. As far as she could see, the painting appeared to be fine. Her painting seemed unaltered.

  “Do you want me to take off the coverings?” he asked. “Would you like to take a complete look at it?”

  “No, it’s probably okay.” But then that inner voice of hers urged her to say, “No, we need to check it.”

  He didn’t say a word. He just popped onto the scaffolding to the intricate set of ropes and wires that kept the sheets over the wall. When he finally had everything rolled up, she stepped back and nodded. “It looks fine.”

  “Check it carefully,” he said. “We’ve only got a couple days.”

  “I know,” she said with a smile. “Let me just stand here for a moment.” She checked each of the quarters, looking at a couple spots that she wanted to touch up on the last day, mentally filing them away. By the time she had checked it over carefully, she nodded and said, “Go ahead and cover it up again.”

  He quickly dropped the coverings again, but it still took a good twenty minutes with the two of them tugging and pulling sheets back into place. He hopped down from the scaffold and said, “Satisfied?”

  “I’m glad I took a closer look at it,” she admitted. “Peace of mind is worth a lot right now. Not to mention the fact that I think a couple things need to be tweaked at the top.”

  He nodded. “I was wondering about that.”

  “We can do that after we do the model.”

  “Did you pick a model?”

  She nodded. “Somebody I’ve never worked on before.”

  “That’s taking a chance, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” she said, “but—” She shrugged. “I’ll probably give all four of these gals a try, depending on which art piece I’m working on.”

  He nodded.

  “We’ll have what, three hundred people in here for this?”

  “At least,” he said, rolling his eyes. “This is a big one.”

  “They’re all big,” she said.

  “But this is another huge charity project.”

  She nodded. “For the animals.”

  “And I suppose you did it at half price again, didn’t you?”

  “Hard for me to not help
out the animals,” she said with a slow smile.

  “I get that,” he said. “It’s just an interesting thing.”

  “It is what it is,” she said.

  He nodded. “And you are what you are. Most people don’t realize it, and you never advertise that you do a lot of this for a fraction of the price.”

  “People don’t want to hear that,” she said with a laugh. “They want to know that it’s all perfect and brilliant for right now, and then they yearn for the next moment.”

  “You’ve become quite well-known,” he said with a laugh. “Famous.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m a realist. People want to be entertained for a few hours, and then they want to move on to the next thing.”

  He nodded but didn’t say anything. He stepped up to her side as they walked out of the front door.

  She took several slow deep breaths.

  “Are you doing okay?”

  “I’m doing okay,” she said. “It’s a process.”

  “That is so very true, but you’re holding up well.”

  “No, not really,” she said, but she didn’t want to tell Frankie about the parcels, the security guard at her apartment, or even the development of her relationship with Richard.

  They slowly walked back to Cayce’s gallery. Frankie stopped and said, “I’ll head over to the coffee shop for a few minutes. I see a friend of mine is over there. And thanks so much for seeing Bellamy too. I know you had to move her original appt, but appreciate you squeezing her in.”

  She waved him off and finished the last few blocks on her own. When she walked back in, she said to Anita, “Before I forget, please hire security from now on for all my installations in progress to protect from any vandalism, starting today if possible at the Arctic Ice project.” Anita nodded, frantically scribbling it all down. “Okay, let’s get at it.”

  The next hour flew by as Cayce dealt with the business side of her life.

  With all that finally dealt with, Anita hopped off her chair and said, “Now I’m going for lunch because it’s late.”

  Cayce looked at her watch. Already one-thirty. Later than she thought. She groaned. “How is it that time just flies by?” she asked out loud. She headed to her office, realizing she still hadn’t heard from Richard all morning. That’s how bad it was, for him and for her, dealing with the fallout of Elena’s death. Yet she also kept expecting to hear from him, to see him, to be with him because she just plain missed him. It was a very strange stage of life for her.