Casey picked up the second photo, this one of a pretty woman with short dark blond hair and dark eyes. She appeared to be in her mid twenties. Casey removed the picture from the frame and flipped it over. No name or date.
She opened a drawer in the night table. Among the antacid tablets and nail clippers was another photo, face down. Casey picked it up and found herself looking at her own wedding portrait. Dad must have heard about the divorce. She dumped the picture back into the drawer.
“What was that?” Lou asked.
“Nothing.”
She focused on the letter-sized pen-and-ink drawing Lou was holding. The artist had created an incredibly detailed picture of a cove occupied by sailboats and motor boats. On the bottom right corner, a delicate hand had written “F.H.T. Mason, October 1982.”
“Your mom collects pen-and-inks,” Casey said. “Think she’d like it?”
“Hell, yeah.”
“Then take it.”
He looked at her. “No, it’s too valuable.”
“Lou, none of this has any value for me. All of this stuff belonged to a part of Dad’s life that I was excluded from, so please give it to Barb on her next birthday or for Christmas or whatever.”
Lou shook his head.
“Look, someone’s stealing everything anyway, and while this stuff doesn’t hold any value for me, it doesn’t seem right that someone else is taking it either.”
“Okay, well, then thanks, I appreciate it,” though he still looked uncertain. “Are you sure you don’t want anything? There’s a cool glass statue on the bureau.”
Casey gazed at the gorgeous sculpture of a leaping dolphin. Exquisite as it was, she sure as hell didn’t like what the piece represented, nor was she interested in profiting from Dad’s other life.
“Got any plans after work?” Lou asked.
“Actually, I’ve arranged to see Dad’s friend and colleague, Vincent Wilkes. It should be interesting.”
Eleven
CASEY STARED AT the bungalow that had once been Dad’s office. The patch of soft green lawn she used to play on was now a rock garden. The picket fence was still here, though no longer green but cobalt blue to match the door. The cedar-shingle siding on the upper two-thirds of the cottage was a darker gray than she remembered; the river rock on the lower third also looked darker. Curtains had been exchanged for shutters.
Casey had thought about asking to meet Vincent at a neutral spot, and then decided she wanted to see this place again. Vincent had worked with Dad for as long as she could remember, yet Casey hadn’t known him well. The guy had kept to himself and preferred to work at night.
Casey swung open the gate and strolled to the door. The Please Walk In sign had been exchanged for an alarm system. Beneath the alarm was an intercom. Seconds passed before a pensive voice answered the buzzer. “Hello?”
“Hi, Vincent, it’s Casey.”
“Come in.”
As she stepped inside, hot dry air filled her lungs. Why did Vincent have the heat up on such a warm spring day? She slipped off her jacket and glanced at what she remembered as Vincent’s office door to her left. Dad’s larger work area was across the hall. In the early days, Mother would bring her here when Rhonda couldn’t babysit. In a corner of Dad’s room, she’d had her own red table and chair, crayons and toys.
The door to Dad’s old room opened and Vincent stepped out. “Good to see you again, Casey.”
“You too.” She tried not to look shocked at how much he had aged in three years. His hair was white and his eyes were enveloped in creases, and his hand felt frail and scratchy when she shook it, like crinkled paper that had been flattened out. “Thanks for seeing me this late on a Friday afternoon.”
“No problem. I’m always here.”
Casey followed Vincent into the room where the somber sound of a Gregorian chant played. They sat in a couple of easy chairs at the far end of the room.
“So, you moved into the big room,” she said. “Good plan.”
“I use both.”
She sat next to a large, glass tank containing sand, rocks, and thick, leafless branches. A reptile crawled out from behind a branch and she jumped up. “What the hell is that?”
“A Western skink.”
“Skink?”
“It’s a lizard. He’s known for his slender body and bright blue tail.”
Casey studied the creature. At the top of its tank, a heat lamp was attached to a wire mesh cover. She glanced at the terrariums beside the skink’s home, afraid to look too closely. All of them had heat lamps.
“So, Vincent, this decor is new.” Casey hoped she sounded more relaxed than she felt. “How many lizards to do you have?”
“Two dozen; reptiles are less complex than people, and easier to live with. I use the office across the hall for clients who aren’t comfortable near them.”
Good lord, weren’t there laws about this? She pushed up her sleeves, realizing why it was so warm. “What made you keep them here?”
“This is my home now. I had to give up my condo to keep the business going.”
“I take it things haven’t been easy?”
“No.”
Given Vincent’s pets, musical taste, and this god-awful heat, Casey wasn’t surprised.
“There’s a little profit coming in now.” He glanced at his clasped hands. “I work six and a half days a week, when I can manage it. Even have a part-time employee. And I like working with this menagerie close by.” Vincent smiled. “If I don’t like someone, I can bring out Sydney.”
“Sydney?”
“My papa iguana; he’s a beauty. Just don’t wear a hat when you’re around him. Sydney hates hats.”
Casey glanced at the closed door while another Gregorian chant began to play, this one even more somber than the last.
“Aside from the bizarre news about Marcus,” he said, “how’s life been treating you?”
Casey briefly described her breakup with Greg and her residency at Rhonda’s place. When she switched to the subject of Dad, Vincent’s gaze shifted to the terrariums.
“I don’t know what to say about all this. It’s unbelievable.” Vincent adjusted a strap on the sandals Casey had always seen him wearing. “You want some coffee? The pot should be ready.”
“That’d be great, thanks.” On second thought, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be left alone in lizard- land.
Vincent pushed himself up from the chair, as if the gesture required effort. Dad once told her that Vincent had health problems, but she couldn’t recall the details. As he left the room, Casey listened to a depressing music for ten long seconds before she sought a distraction. Cautiously, she approached the terrarium next to the skink and peered through the glass.
The creature inside looked like a tiny dinosaur. About twenty-five inches long, its squat body was covered in spines. Horns projected back from a fringe behind its head. The beast’s brownish yellow body blended fairly well with the sand.
Casey strolled toward Vincent’s desk, where small terrariums sat on shelves behind his chair. Terrain inside the tanks varied from rocky deserts to miniature forests and jungles. All of the cages had water dishes, boxes, and makeshift hiding spots. Many had bowls of fresh vegetables. She looked tentatively through the nearest glass and spotted five bright green baby iguanas. Okay, these creatures weren’t so bad. The lizards with brownish bands on their backs in the next tank were even smaller.
