Read Online Now You See Her by Linda Howard - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Linda Howard
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more than black hulks on either side that somehow gave the appearance of height. Something was wrong with the manâs head. There was a little blood pooled around his nostrils, and a thin line of it ran from his left ear, curving under the ear to drip into his gray hair.
For a moment she stared at the painted face without recognition. The eyes were open, blank, glazed with the film of death. But then she saw the facial structure she knew so well, having sketched it so often.
It was the old hot dog vendor.
Her first irrational thought, rushing through her brain on a flood of rage, was that someone had brokeninto her apartment and painted the disturbing picture. Logic pointed out the idiocy of that scenario. For one thing, the style, though not as detailed as usual, was her own. That, and her signature scribbled in the lower right corner of the canvas, told her she had done the painting.
The only problem was, she didnât remember any of it.
C HAPTER
    F OUR
A t nine, the telephone rang. Sweeney was still numb with shock, and so cold she couldnât seem to get warm no matter how much coffee she drank. Sheâd kept edging the thermostat upward until it was sitting on eighty, and she refused to turn it higher. The local weather forecast, delivered by a woman so chirpy Sweeney felt like smacking her, had told her the day would be
beautiful,
with highs in the mid-seventies. People outside were walking around in short sleeves, children were still wearing shorts, and she was freezing. She felt as if her inner core was pure ice, the cold coming from inside rather than out.
She couldnât settle down to paint anything, not even something unsatisfactory. Every time she saw that ugly painting of the old hot dog vendor, she wanted to weep, and she wasnât a leaky-eye type ofwoman. But she felt so sad, almost as if she were in mourning, and when the phone rang, she grabbed it up, glad for a change, for the distraction.
âCandra here. Is this a good time?â Candraâs warm voice sounded in her ear.
âAs good as any.â Sweeney pushed an unruly curl out of her eyes. âAbout yesterdayââ
âDonât apologize,â Candra interrupted, laughing. âI should be apologizing to you. If I had stopped to think, I would have known immediately you wouldnât be able to stand them. A little of Margo goes a long way, though in her defense, Carson is enough to give a saint a bad attitude.â
âHe has the hots for you.â Damn, she hadnât meant to say that. She liked Candra, but they had never crossed the line between friendly business associates and
friends.
Intimate conversation wasnât her strong point, anyway.
Candra evidently had no such hang-ups. She laughed dismissively. âCarson has the hots for anything female. To say heâs like a dog would insult the dog community. He has his uses, though, which is why Margo stays with him.â
Sweeney didnât say anything, because she knew anything that came out of her mouth would be uncomplimentary, and the McMillans were not only in Candraâs social circle, they were her clients. Insulting them wouldnât be diplomatic. Keeping silent was a strain, but she managed.
âI saw you get in the car with Richard yesterday,â Candra said after a slight pause, and there was a faint hesitancy in her tone.
Oh, boy.
Sweeneyâs radar began beeping an alarm. âIt was starting to rain and I had the portfolio, so he gave me a lift home.â She clutched the phone, hoping Candra would leave it there and go on to another subject.
No such luck. âHe can be very courteous. Itâs that country-boy Virginia upbringing.â
âI didnât know he was from Virginia.â That seemed like a safe thing to say.
âHe still has the accent. No matter how I begged, he absolutely refused to have speech lessons to help him get rid of it.â
Sweeney didnât think she
For a moment she stared at the painted face without recognition. The eyes were open, blank, glazed with the film of death. But then she saw the facial structure she knew so well, having sketched it so often.
It was the old hot dog vendor.
Her first irrational thought, rushing through her brain on a flood of rage, was that someone had brokeninto her apartment and painted the disturbing picture. Logic pointed out the idiocy of that scenario. For one thing, the style, though not as detailed as usual, was her own. That, and her signature scribbled in the lower right corner of the canvas, told her she had done the painting.
The only problem was, she didnât remember any of it.
C HAPTER
    F OUR
A t nine, the telephone rang. Sweeney was still numb with shock, and so cold she couldnât seem to get warm no matter how much coffee she drank. Sheâd kept edging the thermostat upward until it was sitting on eighty, and she refused to turn it higher. The local weather forecast, delivered by a woman so chirpy Sweeney felt like smacking her, had told her the day would be
beautiful,
with highs in the mid-seventies. People outside were walking around in short sleeves, children were still wearing shorts, and she was freezing. She felt as if her inner core was pure ice, the cold coming from inside rather than out.
She couldnât settle down to paint anything, not even something unsatisfactory. Every time she saw that ugly painting of the old hot dog vendor, she wanted to weep, and she wasnât a leaky-eye type ofwoman. But she felt so sad, almost as if she were in mourning, and when the phone rang, she grabbed it up, glad for a change, for the distraction.
âCandra here. Is this a good time?â Candraâs warm voice sounded in her ear.
âAs good as any.â Sweeney pushed an unruly curl out of her eyes. âAbout yesterdayââ
âDonât apologize,â Candra interrupted, laughing. âI should be apologizing to you. If I had stopped to think, I would have known immediately you wouldnât be able to stand them. A little of Margo goes a long way, though in her defense, Carson is enough to give a saint a bad attitude.â
âHe has the hots for you.â Damn, she hadnât meant to say that. She liked Candra, but they had never crossed the line between friendly business associates and
friends.
Intimate conversation wasnât her strong point, anyway.
Candra evidently had no such hang-ups. She laughed dismissively. âCarson has the hots for anything female. To say heâs like a dog would insult the dog community. He has his uses, though, which is why Margo stays with him.â
Sweeney didnât say anything, because she knew anything that came out of her mouth would be uncomplimentary, and the McMillans were not only in Candraâs social circle, they were her clients. Insulting them wouldnât be diplomatic. Keeping silent was a strain, but she managed.
âI saw you get in the car with Richard yesterday,â Candra said after a slight pause, and there was a faint hesitancy in her tone.
Oh, boy.
Sweeneyâs radar began beeping an alarm. âIt was starting to rain and I had the portfolio, so he gave me a lift home.â She clutched the phone, hoping Candra would leave it there and go on to another subject.
No such luck. âHe can be very courteous. Itâs that country-boy Virginia upbringing.â
âI didnât know he was from Virginia.â That seemed like a safe thing to say.
âHe still has the accent. No matter how I begged, he absolutely refused to have speech lessons to help him get rid of it.â
Sweeney didnât think she
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