Dr. Raymond Armand stood back, observing the crew as they set up. He commented on the lack of microphone, concerned as he would be providing the narration. “I doubt anyone will be able to hear me fully,” he sniffed.
“That’s just for today. What I’d like to have you do is just narrate with your own thoughts as we go. Just respond to what you see. We’ll watch the footage later, then do the actual narration in a recording booth,” she reassured him.
Raymond had forgotten that part. “Ah, yes. Of course.” He had wanted everyone in the room to hear him, but that was irrelevant compared to the many that would hear him as they saw the video.
Dulcie continued, “For that reason, if there are other sounds in the room, just ignore them. Keep talking. I think it’s important to get your first reaction, your first impression.”
“Absolutely,” Raymond agreed. He believed it was important for anyone to benefit from his first, second, and third impression.
Dulcie stepped away and surveyed the mild chaos. She caught Nick’s eye and jerked her head slightly toward the doorway. They met out in the hallway. “I’m going to speak to Xander now,” she said. He saw that she had the sketchbook. “He’s in his room, but the door is open.” Dulcie glanced down the hall. “Giselle said that we can go in.”
Nick nodded, and they quietly went down the hall. When they reached Xander’s room, Dulcie tapped on the doorframe. Xander was seated in the window, looking out across the treetops, toward the ocean. He did not move or turn to acknowledge them but Dulcie saw his hands unclasp.
They joined him at the window. “It’s a beautiful day, Xander, isn’t it. Thank you for letting us be in your studio. I would like to ask one more thing. Would you allow my friend,” she gestured toward Nick, “to borrow this?” she put the sketchbook on the window seat beside Xander. “I think that he can use it to help your father. My friend might be able to bring him back.”
Nick was amazed. It was the oddest thing he had ever seen. It appeared that Dulcie was speaking to a statue. Nick thought of the Statue of David, the boy who had slain the terrible Goliath. Nick had seen it once, years ago on a family trip to Italy. Michelangelo’s statue looked so real that Nick thought it might speak. Now he waited for Xander to speak, but like the statue, he did not.
Dulcie waited too. She knew that Xander would respond in some way. After several moments he moved his hand toward the sketchbook, then slid it almost imperceptibly along the seat toward Dulcie. He clasped his hands again. He had not altered his gaze out the window since they had entered the room.
As she had before, Dulcie simply whispered, “Thank you,” in reply. She gently took the sketchbook, and went back into the hallway. Nick trailed along behind her, looking back at Xander several times.
“Wow!” he said when they were in the hallway again. “How do you know he’s going to do anything when you just wait?” he asked.
“I don’t, but I have a pretty good idea. I can’t explain it, but I feel as though I understand him somehow,” she replied.
“You’ve spent your life studying artists and working with artists, so if anyone could understand one, it would be you,” Nick complimented her. He noticed that her cheeks flushed slightly.
“That’s a very nice thing to say,” she smiled, and handed him the sketchbook. “Now put this in a safe place!”
“Will do!” Nick answered. He located Johnson back in Xander’s studio, and Dulcie saw them speaking quietly, heads bowed toward each other.
Giselle entered and stood next to Dulcie. “Are you ready for him yet?” she questioned.
“Yes, I think so,” Dulcie said. “His model is hiding in the study where Xander won’t see him yet. Let me just make sure that the crew is all set, then we can get them.”
Dulcie walked around the room speaking with each group. Raymond had already stationed himself in front of the microphone and looked very self-satisfied. His voice, his wisdom would be the primary thing that everyone heard.
The director spoke to the room. “Let’s get this in one take, please, if we can!” He nodded to Dulcie.
“Okay, go get him!” Dulcie said to Giselle. Moments later, Xander entered the room. The cameras had already begun to roll. He went straight to his easel, picked up a brush, and began dabbing at his palette. Dulcie knew this was the way he always started his work. She heard Raymond’s voice. She had asked him to be as quiet as possible, and fortunately, he had complied.
Dulcie nodded to an assistant at the doorway, and she brought Dan in. Dan winked at Dulcie as he walked by. He positioned himself in front of Xander. Xander looked up at him. Then, Xander glanced at Dulcie. His head swiveled back to Dan. He looked down and continued to dab at his palette.
Dulcie motioned for Dan to leave. He joined her at the back of the room. Dulcie held her breath. There was no guarantee that Xander would paint Dan. She was nervous as well, because she did not understand why Xander had focused briefly on her as well.
“What’s he doing?” Dan whispered.
“I don’t know,” Dulcie whispered back.
Raymond glanced over at Dulcie questioningly. She simply shrugged her shoulders and made a rolling motion with her hands for him to continue talking. No problem there, she thought.
Xander turned to the canvas and, as always started at the top. The hair, then eyebrows, then eyes, nose, lips… it was a perfect likeness of Dan. Dulcie watched in amazement, but was concerned as well. Xander had not centered Dan on the canvas as he had in all of his other portraits.
Her curiosity was quickly answered. Xander moved his brush to the top of the canvas again and began painting another person. Hair, eyebrows eyes… Dulcie saw an image of herself appearing. Everyone in the room gasped.
“What…?” Dan said. Dulcie suddenly began laughing. “He knows! Dan, he can see a resemblance between us! He knows you’re my brother!” It was Xander’s way of making a joke.
When he finished, he put down the brush, and walked to the window, his back to everyone in the room. The crew director glanced at Dulcie. “All set?” he mouthed.
She nodded. Giselle went over to Xander and spoke to him. Dulcie saw her make the eat motion with her hand. They crossed the room and as they passed by Dulcie, Giselle whispered, “Lunchtime!” Dulcie smiled. Giselle knew exactly what Xander needed. She had always been there for him.
Always been there. Dulcie’s mind stuck on the thought. There was a bond, almost a maternal bond, between Giselle and Xander. Dulcie knew that a bond like this could easily form after people had lived together for years, especially when one of those people was a child. Why did this bond seem different?
Dulcie’s thoughts were jarred by Edith. “Well that’s done! Got what you needed, I see. Museum will like this,” she announced. “Let me see it before you go public. Family has to approve.” She did not wait for an answer. It wasn’t a question. She turned and marched from the room.
“Brunhilda approves, I see,” Nick said as he sidled up behind Dulcie.
Dulcie snorted in response but quickly regained her composure. “Yes, always an advantage to stay on Edith Bernstein’s good side,” she admitted. She looked over at Xander’s work. The video crew were now taking close-up shots of it. “I wish he hadn’t painted me as well, though.”
“Yeah, why’d he do that?” Johnson asked, joining them.
“I think, and this is pure conjecture, but I believe it was his way of making a joke. No one said anything about Dan being my brother. Xander recognized it, so instead of just painting him, he painted both of us.”
Nick looked thoughtful. “Wouldn’t that mean that he’s creating his own images, though? He’s not just painting what he sees?”
Dulcie shook her head. “Not at all. Look at the painting. He shows us separately. And look at the collar of my blouse. He’s painted me wearing exactly what I have on today.”
Nick glanced at her collar, then saw a simple gold necklace around her throat that he hadn’t noticed before. Yes, Xander had caught
that as well.
“Hey Nick,” Johnson said slowly. “Just thought of something. While we’re here, want to do a little experiment?”
“What kind of experiment?”
“Want to see how long it takes to run out of Oscar’s study, down the stairs, though the hall, and outside where Oscar ended up? With all of these guys here,” he waved around the room, “we wouldn’t be causing much more commotion.”
“Johnson, sometimes you’re way smarter than you look,” Nick said. “We’ll have to hurry before they start hauling things down. Think it would be okay?” he asked Dulcie.
“I think so. Giselle and Xander are in the kitchen. Who knows where Edith is, but I daresay you can outrun her. Go, but be quick!”
“We intend to!” Nick said as they hurried away.
In the hallway, Johnson said, “Look, pains me to admit it, but you’re probably faster. I’ll go outside where the body was. You stand in the window. When you’re ready to run, wave at me. I’ll start with the time.” He pointed unnecessarily to the watch on his wrist.
“Good plan!” Nick hurried toward the study.
Johnson quickly went outside. He looked up at the window. Nick gave him a thumbs-up sign. Johnson returned it. Then Nick waved and disappeared.
Johnson watched the seconds tick by. Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen… Nick ran up beside him. He was panting from the sprint. “Ooh, see you’re in good shape!” Johnson jested.
“Shut up,” Nick replied. “How long?”
“Seventeen. That’s a pretty long time.”
“Yup. The housekeeper said it only took them ‘a few’ seconds to come out of the trees. We can ask her, but I’d say that’s a lot shorter than seventeen. Plus, you might be a tad faster than Lawrence Bellamy.”
“Agreed,” Nick said. “So Giselle is right. Lawrence couldn’t have pushed Oscar out the window.”
“Unless…” Johnson thought aloud.
Nick groaned. “What now!”
“Unless he did it earlier. Remember, the scream Giselle heard could have been Lawrence. He might have pushed him out the window earlier.”
Nick thought for a moment. “Let’s check something. Come with me.” They went to his car. Nick unlocked it and pulled Xander’s sketchbook from the back seat. He flipped it open to the last page. “Look. Right there,” he pointed. “There isn’t a lot a blood around his head. Remember the photos? There was quite a lot of blood around him. Head wounds really bleed a lot. But the sketch shows very little. So it must have just happened.”
Johnson was quiet. “I still don’t get how that kid can do this,” he said.
“I don’t either,” Nick replied, “But Dulcie’s right. It is just like having a photograph. We’re lucky he can do this.” He shut the book. “Or rather, if I’m not mistaken, Lawrence Bellamy is lucky.”
#
The news stories were brief. Lawrence Bellamy had been exonerated and released from prison. No one knew who had killed Oscar Bernstein, but it was not Lawrence Bellamy. He had only confessed when he thought his son was being considered as a suspect. A new case had been opened, and Nick and Johnson now had the unenviable task of investigating to see who the real killer was.
“Here’s something that strikes me as odd,” said Johnson as he and Nick walked down a busy Portland street. “Lawrence is back, he didn’t do it, so a killer is obviously at large. But no one over there is the slightest bit concerned. I mean, wouldn’t you be just a little bit nervous if these hazy shadows showed up in the kid’s artwork, and some guy gets pushed out a window by person or persons unknown who is obviously still at large?”
“Yup,” Nick said. “Then again, they’d been dealing with the hell of Oscar Bernstein, so maybe they’re grateful to this person or person’s unknown. They don’t see him, or her for that matter, as a threat.”
“True. Good point. Maybe they don’t care.” He stopped, which was unusual for Johnson lately. He at least tried to march in place now when he wasn’t walking. “They don’t care or…”
Nick read his mind. “Or they know who did do it.”
“Exactly,” Johnson agreed. “In which case, have we been led down the primrose path?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. This still doesn’t sit well,” Nick admitted.
“Here’s another thing that I’m wondering. Why did they suspect the kid in the first place?” Johnson scratched his head.
“I remember that part. The file said that a bit earlier, the housekeeper was vacuuming downstairs. Lawrence had taken the car and gone out to the store. Xander was in his studio and Oscar was down the hall in the study. Could have happened then. They said that Xander could have pushed him out while the housekeeper was vacuuming. Xander and the housekeeper went for walk, leaving from the door on the opposite side of the house. The body could have been on the ground already. We don’t know exact time of death, and their walk only lasted about half an hour.” Nick explained.
“Right. But if that’s the case, how could the housekeeper have heard glass breaking and the scream right after?”
“Maybe she thought she heard glass breaking but didn’t. The power of suggestion. She sees a broken window that obviously someone has come through, and imagines she heard it break. And maybe the scream was Lawrence, crying out for help. That’s how they reasoned it out originally to point the finger at Xander.” Nick said.
“True,” replied Johnson. “But if you’re right about the fact that there’s very little blood in the sketch, there’s no way he did it. Couldn’t have.”
Nick found himself nodding his head in agreement. Again.
#
Dulcie sat in her office with the formidable Edith Bernstein. They had just watched the mini-documentary on Xander. Edith nodded her head in approval. “Yes. Use it. That psychologist narrating is an ass, but he says the right things.”
Dulcie coughed to hide a laugh.
Edith sat back in her chair. Dulcie realized that it was the first time she had ever seen Edith Bernstein sit back. The woman was normally sitting so erectly that she looked like she would fall over.
“It’s a bad business all around,” she clucked. “I’m sure Lawrence didn’t do it, but somebody did. My brother wouldn’t just hurl himself out the window. He was too in love with himself to do that.”
“I didn’t know him, but it does all seem odd. Unfinished,” Dulcie added.
“Yes, that’s a good word,” Edith stated. “Question is, what kind of finish will it have?”
Dulcie sat back in her chair also, unconsciously mimicking Edith’s stance. She folded her arms. “Do you feel at all nervous or threatened there, especially with Lawrence back in the house?” she asked.
“No. Not a hair,” Edith chortled. “And that’s the odd thing about it.”
After several moments, Dulcie said, “Mrs. Bernstein, what do you know about Giselle?”
Edith thought back. She had only met Giselle once or twice before moving in to the house with her, but had known about her for years, of course. “Good woman. Dotes over Xander. Has served the family well. Few would have put up with it.”
“Yes, and that’s why I ask the question. Do you know her background?” Dulcie asked.
Edith squinted her eyes. “Let me see, from Quebec, but you knew that of course. Last name Guerrette. I think I heard someone say once she was raised by her grandmother? When Lily died, that’s Oscar’s wife, Giselle kept the household running. Gisa was failing pretty rapidly at that point.”
“And Gisa was Xander’s mother, Lawrence’s wife, right?” Dulcie asked.
“Yes. Not much use in the end, God rest her soul, but I think she tried in the beginning.”
Dulcie had never had such a long conversation with Edith Bernstein. She glanced around her office and saw the painting that Edith had brought to her attention initially. “Mrs. Bernstein, who’s shadow do you think that is in the painting?”
“Haven’t a clue.”
“Has Giselle seen it?” The que
stion was simple, but its impact gradually increased on Edith. Dulcie watched the light in her spark, then begin to burn brighter as she considered its implications.
“No. She has not. She has not seen it. And you think…” Edith trailed off, not willing to say the rest. “I can’t see it, though. She’s been so loyal to the family.”
“Maybe that’s exactly why?” Dulcie countered. “Maybe she is so loyal to the family that when she saw the threat of Oscar Bernstein increase, she took matters into her own hands?”
“If that’s true, why would she have allowed Lawrence to go to prison?”
“From what I understand,” Dulcie replied. “Giselle’s loyalty isn’t necessarily to the family. Her loyalty is to Xander.”
Edith stood rapidly, scraping the chair behind her. Dulcie jumped at the sound. “I have to go,” Edith announced and strode from the room.
Well! Dulcie thought. That was odd! Then again, Edith was an odd woman. Dulcie looked up as she heard footsteps at her doorway, half expecting to see Edith come in again. Instead her brother Dan came into the room.
“Who was that?” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to point. “She nearly ran me over!”
“That,” Dulcie paused for emphasis, “Was the formidable Edith Bernstein. Consider yourself lucky.” She joked. “Don’t you remember her from the other day when Xander painted you?”
“Nope,” Dan answered as he sauntered in and slumped into the chair that Edith had recently vacated. “What’s her story?” he asked.
“You don’t have enough time, Dan.” She saw him look at his watch. “Trust me! But we just had the oddest conversation, which is saying something because every conversation with her is odd.”
Dan sat up. “Tell me.”
Dulcie sighed, thinking for a moment. Where to begin? “She’s Xander Bellamy’s great aunt. She only recently came into that household when the father was carted off to prison.”
A Mind Within Page 12
