“It’s incredible. Please, Mr. Turkle, don’t let some collector take the original. Please.”

Abe shrugged. “I’m just painting that for the fun of it. I’m in between jobs right now. No, you don’t want to say that it’s because you took all the Sarah Elliott paintings away from the museum. Nah, don’t say that. There’s nothing going on here so I’m just having me some fun.”

Simon came around and looked at the nearly completed painting. “The original is in the National Gallery in London. I hope your compatriots elect to leave it there, Abe.”

“Like I said, this is just for fun. A guy’s got to keep practicing, you know what I mean? Look, I painted this from a series of photos. If I were in it for bucks, I wouldn’t have let her see it. I’d be in London, too.”

Lily couldn’t give up, not yet. “Won’t you just tell us the truth, Mr. Turkle? Tennyson Frasier married me only to get his hands on the paintings. Then he tried to kill me. Did he tell you that, Mr. Turkle? It’s possible that he murdered my child as well, I don’t know for sure. Please, we won’t involve you. Just tell us.”

Abe Turkle looked back and forth between the two of them. He slowly shook his head.

“I wish you hadn’t found me, Russo,” Abe Turkle said, shaking his big head. “I really wish you hadn’t.” He turned then and walked out the cottage door.

“Wait!” Lily started after him.

Simon grabbed her sleeve and pulled her back. “Let him go, Lily.”

They watched from the doorway as the big, black Kawasaki scattered rocks and dirt as it picked up speed. Then he was gone.

“We screwed up,” Simon said.

“I wish he’d stayed and fought me,” Lily said.

Simon looked down at her, remembering the image of her in a fighting position, with that painting in her right hand. He grinned. He lightly touched his hand to her hair. “You’re all blond and blue-eyed, you’re skinny as a post, your pants are hanging off your butt, and knowing you for just a short time, I know you’ve got more guts than brains. I swear to you, when I tell Savich how his little sister was ready to take on Abe Turkle, he’ll…No, better not tell him how I nearly got you into a fight. Well, shit.”

Lily punched him in the gut. “You jerk. I didn’t see you trying to do anything.”

Simon grunted, rubbed his palm over his belly, and grinned down at her. “I hope you didn’t pull anything loose when you hit me. Not in me, in you.”

“I might have, no thanks to you.”

She didn’t speak to him until they were back in the car and headed down to Hemlock Bay.

“We’re going to see Tennyson?”

“Nope, we’ve got other fish to fry.”

Washington, D.C.
The Hoover Building
Fifth Floor, The Criminal
Apprehension Unit

It was one o’clock in the afternoon. Empty sandwich wrappers were strewn on the conference table, leaving the vague smell of tuna fish with an overlay of roast beef, and at least a dozen soda cans stood empty. They’d just finished their daily update meeting. Savich’s second in charge, Ollie Hamish, said to the assembled agents around the CAU conference table, “I’m going to be going to Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, in the morning. Our research says that he not only took the real Wilbur’s name, he’s spent a lot of time in Wright’s hometown. Chances are, though, that he’s not going to Dayton, since everyone’s looking for him there, but to Kitty Hawk. I’ve gotten all the data over to Behavioral Sciences, to Jane Bitt. We’ll see what she’s got to add, but that’s it, so far.

“I’m going to our office down there, fill them all in, and get things set up for when he turns up.”

Savich nodded. “Sounds good, Ollie. No more supposed sightings of the guru in Texas?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ollie said, “but we’re letting the agents there deal with them. Our people here believe guru Wilbur is already heading across country, due east to North Carolina. Our offices across the South are all alerted. Maybe we can get him before he hits Kitty Hawk. It might be that Kitty Hawk will be his last stand. We don’t want him to bring real havoc when he gets there. We’ll see if Jane Bitt agrees.”

Sherlock said, “Have we got photos?”

“The only photo we’ve got is old and fuzzy, unfortunately. We’re looking at getting more.”

Special Agent Dane Carver, newly assigned to the unit, said, “Why don’t you give me the photo, Ollie, and let me work on it. Maybe we can clean it up in the lab.”