“Okay. Great. See you in a white.”
“Where are you calling from?”
“The Sea Breeze.”
“Ah. Then I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”
“So long, Blaze,” she said, and hung up.
She drove down the main street of Fort Platt. The town had a bay with a wharf and plenty of boats, but she knew of no military installation in the area. Maybe they should’ve called it Port Platt.
It always reminded her of Malcasa Point. Not that the two towns had much in common. Fort Platt sure didn’t have any tacky attractions like Beast House. It wasn’t very big on bait shops, liquor stores or cheap souvenir shops like Malcasa, either. No way. Fort Platt was a class act Or so it seemed to fancy itself,
Like many other communities along the California coast, it had long ago acquired the reputation of being an “artist’s colony.” By the time Sandy had first ventured there, late in 1980, it had already mutated into a trendy vacation area.
The main road was lined with picturesque restaurants, boutiques selling candles and tea and handicrafts, bookstores that smelled of incense and carried books by environmentalists and obscure poets, and galleries featuring the works of local artists.
Such as Blaze O’Glory.
Just beyond the north end of town, Sandy turned right onto Buena Vista Parkway and headed inland. She followed the broad curvy road into the hills, turned onto Emerald Drive, then onto the narrow, twisty Crestline Lane. It led to the entrance of Blaze’s driveway.
Stopping at the bottom of the steep driveway, she shifted to first gear. Then she started forward. The front of her pickup tilted toward the sky and she felt her weight shift against the seatback.
At the top, her hood lowered. She felt as if she were coming in for a landing—on a runway in front of a fabulous house made of glass and weathered wood.
She left her car in a parking area near the garage, then walked past the front of the house and climbed a dozen slate stairs to the porch.
She pressed the doorbell button.
Inside the house, chimes rang out a tune. The one about wanting a gal just like the gal who married dear old Dad.
She chuckled and shook her head.
Blaze opened the door. “My dear!” he cried out and flung his arms wide.
Sandy stepped over the threshold.
He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her.
She gave his back a couple of pats. He was wearing a silk kimono. The fabric felt slick under her hands, and the heat of his skin radiated through it.
He eased her away and held her by the arms. “Look at you. Oh, just look at you. Gorgeous! Absolutely gorgeous! As ever. Never change, darling! Whatever you do, never change!”
“You look pretty good yourself, she said.
Oh, dear, I know. I know! Ha! I look totally fabulous, don’t I?”
“As ever.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you chose today to come by. You’ve absolutely made my day.” He swept her aside, then closed the front door and whirled around to face her. “Oh, I do miss you when you’re gone. You’re such a delight! I do wish you’d move in. I have oodles of room.”
“I know. Maybe someday.”
“Oh, don’t torment me with your empty promises. I know you’ll never move in. But I do keep hoping, don’t I? We could have such fine times, you and I”
“I’m sure we would.”
“You are so gorgeous. And you’re such a chatneleon. So many moods and changes, so many shifts and nuances. If I had my way, you would be my only subject. I would spend every hour of my life painting no one but you.”
“Well, thanks.”
“We’d not only have a grand time, but we’d become filthy rich.”
“How are we doing ?”Sandy asked.
“Modestly well.” Wiggling his eyebrows, Blaze slipped a hand into a pocket of his robe. He drew out a fat pack of bills that were folded in the middle and held together by two rubber bands. “Your twenty percent,” he said. He dropped it into Sandy’s hand.
“Wow,” she said.
“Indeed. That’s two thousand three hundred smackarooes.”
She grinned. “Pretty good.”
Leaning toward her, Blaze narrowed one eye, lowered his voice and said, “We are an unbeatable combination, Ashley. Your beauty and my genius in capturing you on canvas...But you need to be here. I require your presence”
“Well, I just can’t get out here very often, Blaze.”
“How far away do you like?”
“Far far.”
“You have no desire to be wealthy?”
Two thousand bucks a month ain’t hay.”
“But we could be doing so much better. We could make a fortune.”
“I thought you artistic types didn’t care about money.”
“Am I not human? Do I not bleed ? Do I not crave goodies?”
Laughing, Sandy stuffed the pack of money into a front pocket of her jeans. “Well, Mr. Greedy, we’d better get to it.”
“Yes! The sooner, the better!” Smiling, he raised both hands like a kid trying to feel raindrops. “It’s a lovely day. Shall we go down to the sea again?”
“Fine with me. You driving?”
“I’ve already packed the gear. All we need to do is change into more suitable attire, and we’ll be off.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
STAFF ENCOUNTERS
In the parlor, Ethel looked as if she hadn’t been tampered with overnight.
“So far, so good,” Dana said.
They searched more and more of the house.
Nobody jumped them.
Nothing seemed out of place.
All the mannequins appeared to be in their usual condition.
Done with the walk-through, Tuck and Dana headed for the front door. “Maybe everything’ll go a little more smoothly today,” Tuck said.
“We’re getting off to a good start—if we don’t include the intruder at your house.”
“Oh, thanks for reminding me.”
“You’re welcome
“He’s probably after you, you know.”
“Thank you,” Dana said.
“My pleasure.” She opened the door and Dana followed her onto the porch. “Just be careful,” she said. “Keep your eyes open, okay? Don’t think you’re necessarily safe just because it’s broad daylight and there’re lots of people around...” She shook her head. “The house has a lot of little empty places. Places where things could happen. So don’t let your guard down.”
Noddihg, Dana said, “You watch out, too.”
“You bet I will.”
Side by side, they trotted down the porch stairs. As they headed around the house, Dana felt her heartbeat quicken. “Warren doesn’t show up for the staff meetings, does he?” she asked.
“Not the guide meetings.” Tuck flashed a grin at her. “So sorry,.”
“Just asking.”
“Sure you are. Anyway, he’s not actually staff. Not anymore. He owns the snack stand.”
“Owns it?
“Oh, yeah. Makes a nice little profit off it, too. But he doesn’t attend the guide meetings.”
“Ah.” .
“Don’t worry, you’ll see him sooner or later.”
“I know. I wasn’t...”
“Sooner if you buy yourself a cup of coffee before we get started.”
“He’s here now?”
“Maybe.”
They stepped around the rear corner of the house.
“Yep,” Tuck said. “He’s here.”