Chapter Twenty-Two

Two hours later, as Athena was applying the last mauve-tinted shadows to Alex Skoros’ face and neck, her mother knocked and then abruptly entered the third story bedroom. Athena was standing by her dormer window, where there was at least some natural light, however weak, alternating between wishing she could do “plein air” studies in sunny California and thoughts of Kas Skoros bare-chested in animal-print briefs.

Her mother came over to have a look at the portrait. “I thought I heard you come back in. Ohh, va bene. Che bello, figlia mia!”

“Thanks, Mum.” Athena paused and took a step back. “Do you like his pose?” She’d painted Alex standing in front of the family’s carved wood mantelpiece, his left arm slung lazily back and resting on the wood, as if he were in the middle of regaling his family with a funny story. Alex, the born raconteur. Lorena and her family, she felt, would love this interpretation of their most charming male member. “I’m pleased with it. It’s turning out well, probably my best portrait so far. Using one hand is making it a little slow going but it’s coming along. What do you think, Mum?”

“Yes, by far, your best. You’ve captured Alex’s winning personality,” agreed Anna Butler. She stared at the bedroom door. “Where did you go so early this morning?”

Athena lowered her voice in case her father was nearby. “I met with Max, told him what I saw in Winston Blake’s mind. Don’t tell Father, please. Max wants to do some digging before anyone jumps to possibly wrong conclusions and we don’t want to jam up Father’s relationship with his new secretary, do we?”

Anna agreed with a curt nod and a frown.

“Listen, our plans for visiting Nonna in Como have changed somewhat. Your Uncle Terence is ill, we think with the flu, and your father wants to stay and watch over him. But I told him he needs a real vacation. Italy would do him a world of good. He hasn’t seen Nonna and Giancarlo in over a year, and so I insisted that he come with Chris and me. We need you to stay, to help with meals and cleaning.” She stopped as Athena opened her mouth to protest. “I know you’ll miss seeing Nonna and Zio Giancarlo but that can’t be helped. I need to see my mother, and Chris missed out on the last visit because of a soccer tournament, so he’ll be coming with us. We’re flying to Milano this afternoon.”

With extreme disappointment mixed with resignation, Athena nodded, then shrugged gallantly. “Oh well, it’ll give me a chance to finish this and mail it off.”

It appeared her mother was about to say something, but she stopped and nodded instead.

“You know how to make a stew, a pot roast, bangers and mash. The deli has pasties, and your uncle’s favorite herring salads. I know he likes the herring in mustard and dill sauce, so buy some of that, Athena. I think Uncle Terence would love some comfort food. He can barely hold down chicken broth for now, but he will bounce back. Mrs. Hughes will come over if you need an extra hand—“

Athena made a dismissive gesture. “No need. I can handle domestic duties, Mum. I’m not a child.” Another thought occurred to her. Mikayla was having a New Year’s Eve party back in D.C. She wondered what Kas would be doing for New Year’s.

Her mother stretched on her tiptoes and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “I know you’re not, figlia mia, but you have only one working arm. If all goes well, we’ll be back in one week and then on to America.” She stopped at the doorway on her way out. “It’s important that you finish Alex’s portrait.”

A lump rose in Athena’s throat. She knew what her mother was trying to tell her. Yet, such a horrible premonition—if that’s indeed what it was and nothing more—was better left unspoken. She looked around and rapped her knuckles on the wooden window sill.

“Yes, I know.”

****

Lovely aromas wafted from the open crockpot, pleasing Athena, and apparently her uncle, as well, who sat at the dining alcove in the kitchen. Uncle Terence, who was sixty years old to her father’s fifty-four, huddled in his bathrobe across the table, a well-used handkerchief held to his mouth. Poor man, he looked like death warmed over, but he’d survived the worst of his flu and now was starved for real food.

“Ahh, smells divine! Serve it up, my darling girl!”

Pleased that one of her two favorite uncles was looking forward to her beef stew, she ladled out several scoops per bowl and took them to the table. A basket of sliced French bread already waited to sop up the thick brown gravy she’d added to the stew. Just the way her uncle liked it! She was just about to serve her own bowl when her cell phone buzzed. The screen warned her to keep it private.

“Sorry, it’s a call from D.C. Go ahead, Uncle, don’t wait for me.” She answered the phone as she walked into the living room across the central hallway. It was Detective Ochoa.

“Hope I’m not interrupting. It’s noon here, my lunch break.”

Athena’s heart pounded. Had they caught the serial killer? Did her and her mother’s clairvoyance really help to catch this man? “No, not a problem, Detective.”

“Palomino wanted me to give you an update, for courtesy’s sake. Is your mother there?” She told him no, but she’d be in touch with her that night. “Okay, that’s fine. What we’ve learned from the skipper of the Baltimore Bullworth is this: Our Person of Interest, whose real identity I can’t reveal to you, is still the target of a massive search. When the skipper learned of our subpoena to detain his crew member, he told the man. We learned two days later the target jumped ship in Johannesburg and is now in the wind. So, our only recourse was to put out a BOLO with Interpol and the South African state police. This guy’s too smart to pull this kind of disappearing act, which screams ‘guilty’. We’re completely baffled, didn’t expect this. If you and your mother have any dreams, visions, whatever, about this jerk, let us know, okay?”

Her hopes for a resolution to this case plummeted. “All right, Detective, will do. I’ll call you, if and when we get anything.”

When she joined her uncle at the table, he noticed her look.

“Bad news, Athena?” Terence Butler asked, his spoon pausing midair.

She remembered her father’s disapproval of her and her mother getting involved with police cases, so she just shrugged. If Uncle Terence knew, then within hours her father would know. “Just a friend at the Institute. Her boyfriend broke up with her, and she’s upset.”

Lying was not her forte but, apparently, she sounded convincing.

“Well, too bad, but everyone gets his or her heart broken at least once in a lifetime. Isn’t that true?”

Uncle Terence, a retired solicitor and widower, wiped his sweaty brow and scooped up another helping of stew. “If I recall correctly, your father had his broken several times before he met Anna. He seemed to fall in love every month or so.”

That tidbit made Athena smile. “So Father was a softie at heart.”

Terence tore a thick slice of bread in two. “Ah, yes, indeed, you could say so. Chris recently informed me of his string of disappointments with the opposite sex. He, unfortunately, I might add, has taken after his old dad. Shameless romantics. Crocodile hides but marshmallow hearts.”

Athena smiled. “I like that. Marshmallow hearts and crocodile hides. I know someone else like that. A friend in California.”

“More’s the pity,” chimed in Uncle Terence. “You and Anna, the frail females of the Butler family, are proving to be anything but. Wouldn’t you agree, Athena? Our women—you and your mother—are as tough as nails. Your hearts are not so easily broken, are they?”

Her uncle’s piercing blue eyes—a trait of the Butlers—looked into hers. Her thoughts ran to Tony, her former co-worker, and how he’d tricked his way into their condo and probably a little into Athena’s heart. Maybe she wasn’t as tough as Uncle Terence thought. Immediately, her chest twisted and she thought of Kas Skoros. How could their brief meeting and fleeting sexual fling have affected her so much? She had a crush on him, that was true, but nothing more. Surely! And that nonsense of cousin Lorena’s, about their future together, was just that, nonsense. Bollocks, as Max would say. Outright bollocks.

“I’ve gotten tougher with each year, Uncle Terence. And I imagine by the time I’m thirty, I’ll be an iron maiden.”

Her reference to the medieval torture chamber, obliquely implying how she’d be treating the opposite sex, finally sank in, causing her uncle to burst out laughing.

“Iron maiden, indeed. Well done, Athena, a double entendre. However, I don’t believe it for a minute. You just haven’t met the man who deserves you. The man you’re meant to be with.”

She smiled and then dove into her stew. Her uncle was such a fan of hers. Would he continue to be if he and her father knew all of the lies she’d told them, all of the secrets she’d withheld from them? Her latest escapade with Max?

Her mind turned on a quid note. Mikayla had texted her while she was preparing the stew. Her friend’s New Year’s Eve party sounded like so much fun. She could text Kas and ask what he was planning to do New Year’s Eve. If he wouldn’t go with her—after all, why should he fly all the way across the North American continent just to go to a party with her? If he couldn’t go, why not ask Dan?

Wait a minute! She was stuck in London, nursing Uncle Terence back to health.

She looked up at his thinning pate of gray hair and wondered.

“Uncle, if you’re well enough, will you be going out for New Year’s Eve?”

He smiled as he dabbed another piece of bread in the stew’s gravy. “My club is having a men’s night of gaming. Free drinks if one buys into a poker tournament. Why? Is there something you’re yearning to do? A pretty young woman like you, surely you have a date. Oh, but your date’s in Washington, is it not?”

“Yes, sort of.”

She blew on her spoon filled with beef. Mustn’t look too anxious. Did she have the money to fly back to D.C.? Of course, she had, thanks to the Skoroses’ generous birthday gift.

“There’s a party in Washington. I thought, maybe I could fly back there early? If you’re feeling better?”

He smacked his lips and downed the bread in one gulp. “Of course I’m feeling better. Mrs. Hughes can fix me something before I run off to my club. Her roast lasts me for days. I owe her a Christmas present, anyway. You know how women are about such things. They like to be remembered. You make your plans, Athena. You’re young only once, dear. Just make certain your parents know you’ll be flying back early.”

Out of the blue, an incoming text buzzed her cell phone. She pulled the phone out of her pocket and read the message. In shock, she nearly dropped her phone. Her jaw fell, and she muttered, “Oh, my God!”

Kas? Thinking of me the same time I was thinking of him. Now who’s the psychic?

She jumped up, went over to her uncle and hugged him. He waved her off, typical English prudence winning out over sentimentality.

“Don’t, my dear. Wouldn’t want you ill next.”

She hugged him anyway. “Uncle Terence, you have no idea how happy you’ve made me!”

Kas, Kas…I do mean something to you.