The adrenaline level in the room
was heavy as mist. They all stepped back
onto the front porch. Sam talked into
the box on his shoulder.
Belinda
babbled to Maddie. “Yes. That’s where it all started. Reedy was killed and left in the studio, then
they couldn’t get all the paint off him or the superglue, and they took a
profile picture and showed it to me and it freaked me out but of course by that
time somebody shot at me with a real gun., and ...”
Sam’s
eyes turned from one of the women to the other, then back again.
“Wait,
wait, wait, wait. You lost me at
superglue.”
“Oh,
sorry, Sergeant Magers, this is Madrigal , my friend.”
“Snzmeme
Madrigal, nice to meetcha.” Maddie held
out her hand to shake, which he shook lightly.
He
smiled with a question in his eyes.
“Snzmeme?”
“Snzmeme
is her tribal name,” Belinda said.
“Oh.”
Maddie
wore turquoise wool pants, a turtleneck shirt and a v-neck orange sweater. She had thrown back her striped serape so she
could hold her purse and wave her arms around.
Her brown skin and wide round face were incongruous with her Caucasian
features.
“Maddie
uses my studio to do her artwork. She
makes figurines and Native American art.”
“Yes,
I am a child of the sun,” Maddie added as her face lit up.
“She
means she’s American Indian and adores the people,” Belinda said.
Maddie
wrinkled her nose as she panned the room. “Reedy is dead?”
She turned to Belinda. “You could stay with
me. We can talk.”
Belinda
wasn’t really sure where Maddie’s house was.
Mostly she resided in her 1975 Lincoln Ambassador. Yet Maddie had often
been to Belinda’s house, her mother’s house, her loft since the two women had
met in an art class years ago. “I’m
going to my mom’s house.”
“Rachael? Are you sure you want to do that? How about Chris’s house? He’d love that.”
“I
guess I could stay with Chris for a little while--just until my house is
cleaned up.” Why did men always make you
feel safer than women? Women are trained
that way from birth.
#
Later
that day, Chris Danner, her would-be boyfriend, sat with Belinda at his
breakfast table. Belinda was all cried
out. “We should just get married,” Chris
said the third time since her arrival.
His brown puppy eyes pled with her.
And he was kind of cute with his blonde curls and scruffy little
beard. He had a good job as a foreman at
a big box store--with benefits. Marrying
Chris was never on her bucket list. She
didn’t feel the connection he felt. She didn’t love him. Well, her first
marriage hadn’t worked out so well, had it, and she’d definitely loved Reedy--or
thought she had. Maybe Chris would grow
on her. People used to have arranged
marriages. Her mother said once that
those were a good idea. Maybe she’d
think about it.
She
ignored Chris for the millionth time and felt guilty about it. He had gone to work by time Maddie called
Belinda.
“Are
you having fun playing house?” .
“I
don’t know, Mads, I feel like Chris is a roommate. Living with a man, you’d think I’d feel
something more for him.” She ran a hand
through her hair, which was still wet from her shower. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. Sometimes I think....” She shook her head to clear it from that
subject.
“For now, I’ll need a new canvas to replace
the d-dead guy one. I don’t have time to
get another canvas that size stretched, and primed.” The painting she’d contracted for was due to
be shipped in three days, and the art gallery already had CD pictures of the
first one. “I’ve been thinking... My dad
bought one of the first paintings I ever made and hung it in his den. That canvas is a little smaller than the one
at the studio, but I can paint over the picture that’s on it now. It isn’t very good anyway. He was just encouraging me when I was
thirteen.” The gallery work was supposed
to be new within six months. But over-painting
would still be new, wouldn’t it?
“Why
don’t you forget about painting for now?” Maddie said.
“I’ve
already paid the entry fee. The gallery
would probably accept the substitution¸ I think...I hope.”
“Especially
if you don’t tell them about it.”
“Yeah.”
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