Max Pierce The Master of Seacliff (rer)

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. His mouth punctuated this with asort of smile, and he looked to some canvases resting against the wall. Wehave not spoken in months.Duncan s support saddened me anew, but I didn t let it show.I answered, Iam not surprised.He has been most supportive of my desire to become an art-ist.In fact, he is quite fond of all who have such talents. Ah, yes! How true this is! Come see!Edgar LaVina flew to the wall and began thumbing through the stack of can-vases in haste.Pie snapped his fingers and whisked a small piece into the air.Holding it close, he walked back to me. I ve been keeping this; I didn t really know what to do.Perhaps you can ad-vise me. He turned it around, and I looked upon the subject.My eyes traveled past the handsome square-cut jaw, the piercing blue eyes,and the tousled white-blond hair down to the breast pocket of the orange silksmoking jacket that still hung in his closet at Seacliff.The monogram was bold:S.C.It was he.As I studied it, Edgar LaVina beamed. Quite handsome, isn t he? Dorian Gray come to life.And devilishly charm-ing.He posed for me on several occasions.This portrait was to be a gift toDuncan.When I learned Steven left, I didn t know what to do with it.Stevenhasn t written, and I couldn t contact Duncan& he A new connection to Steven Charles.I interjected, Where do you supposeSteven is now?Edgar LaVina added just the slightest addition of color to his heart-shapedface, but snapped his fingers just the same. I have no doubt Steven lounges inan exotic setting, enjoying the best of life s gifts, creating his beautiful music,148 T HE M AS TER OF S EACL I F For motivating another businessman to make a financial windfall.He is quite theinspiring individual, and often talked about touring South America.Perhaps heis in Argentina, he often spoke of it. He sighed and stood the portrait against awell-worn desk by the east window.A bell on the wall clanged three times.Edgar looked at a large clock mountedon the wall and smacked his forehead. Dios Mio! I ve completely forgotten! Please excuse me, I shall return! Heswirled out of his studio and bounded down the stairs two steps at a time.In amoment I heard him speaking in an excited tone of what sounded like Italian.I stared at the portrait of Steven Charles.I hadn t seen any photographs orpaintings of him, but it was as if I d always known him.He was indeed hand-some, and his sexuality jumped off the canvas.I knew now what my gift to Duncan would be.I had mended the relation-ship between Duncan and Tim, but I could not heal Duncan s broken heart.Ithought of Miss Upshaw, and Tim s comment about Miss Jones.Both women shearts he had toyed with.I thought my friendship with the master of Seacliffmight lead to romance.I was foolish.I would leave Seacliff, and dedicate myselfto art, as I had planned.In time, I would forget Duncan Stewart.Edgar s effervescent style of speaking floated up the stairs like bubbles and afemale voice that matched his tempo and accent joined in.Deciding they sound-ed engaged in conversation for several minutes, I walked to the wall and beganlooking at his other work.While his landscapes were not of my taste, EdgarLaVina was an excellent portraitist, and he appeared to specialize in works ofmen.Toward the back, I found a different study of Steven, then another.To mysurprise, there were over a dozen in total.In three, he was stretched across thechaise lounge I had just been sitting on, or leaned against a Roman column thatI had noticed now was tucked into a corner.In these renderings, however, hewas nude.The smoking jacket was discarded at his feet.In one, he was in a fullstate of arousal.Wanting to slam the paintings against the wall and forget that I had seen them,I could not stop.I continued to be hypnotized by the subject, letting the soundof the bustle on the street below lull me into daydreaming.Steven Charles wasthe embodiment of male perfection.Once upon a time I thought I could makeDuncan forget Steven and go on with his life.Now after reading their lettersand seeing his image, I laughed at the ridiculousness of my dream.Hearing Edgar s shoes tap up the stairs, I leaned the artwork back against thewall in haste and moved to a study of a large calico cat by the window.When theartist got to the top of the steps I could see he was out of breath.149 M AX P I ERCE I m so sorry Andrew, but I must conclude our meeting for today.I will betraveling to Paris in the fall and I would most like your assistance as soon as youcan. He clicked his heels and bowed. Most happy I would be to make you myapprentice.Paris.At last I would get there, though not as I planned. Thank you.If youdon t mind, I d like to take Duncan this portrait of Steven.Unless you wishedto keep it& His eyes darted to the wall behind me, and again the mischievous smilecrooked the corner of his mouth.I decided I liked Edgar, but tried not to fol-low his gaze. I believe I do have some other studies&.elsewhere.Please, take this toDuncan, as I said that was Steven s intention.He wrapped the portrait in heavy paper for me and escorted me to the stairs.As I started to descend, I noticed an eight-foot tall canvas covered with a tex-tured green cloth leaning against the wall behind the railing. That size artwork belongs in Seacliff, I laughed as I balanced Steven s por-trait on my knee and pointed.Edgar skipped over to the wall and snapped his fingers. You must be clair-voyant, my young friend.This will be another masterpiece!Fearing another naked image of Steven was hidden behind the covering, Ibit my lip as Edgar whipped the cloth off.Instead, it was an incomplete workof Elena Van Horne in oil.She seemed more ethereal in this piece, though.Her face and hands had been completed, as was the background, the blue fox-gloves in the small garden at Seacliff.But her clothing was only sketched, andhad been corrected several times.The erasure marks were as numerous as thepenciled ones. Beautiful, isn t she? We began this, oh, over eight years ago.When Elenamarries, this shall be finished and will hang in her new home.Dios Mio, I veredone that wedding gown I don t know how many times.But my lady tells methat soon, quite soon, we shall complete it, at last.I thought of Richard Lawrence s enormous diamond ring, and I chuckled.The foreign woman s voice, in a tone I gathered as a little irate, ran up thestairwell to where we were.Edgar snapped his fingers and led me to the frontdoor.The coach was there, and I returned to Michael s; this time he was in. I ve only a moment before I see another patient.It s been one crisis afteranother, he said as he offered me a chair.I would waste no time. Albert Brown did not kill Gordon Stewart. Michaellifted his eyebrows. I examined the medical records that Dr.Stowe had.He was150 T HE M AS TER OF S EACL I F Fa good doctor for colds or muscle pain, but not murder.His records were notthat thorough, and do not give a distinct conclusion that Albert shot Gordon,and then took his own life [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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