Sapphire Nights (Crystal Magic Book 1)(85)

Sam gave her the studio’s phone number and the one at the café. “I’ll give you my cell too, but it won’t reach me unless I’m off the mountain.”

“I do wish you’d come down here, Sam,” Elaine said anxiously. “I could meet you in Santa Cruz or somewhere if you don’t want to try city driving.”

“It’s all right, Elaine. I’m hearing the stories I need to hear. Keep in mind, I’m a scientist, not an artist. Wolf would be proud of me.”

Elaine’s voice brightened. “That’s true. I have a gallery opening this weekend, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I clear a place in my schedule. Just be careful!”

After reassuring her mother’s friend, Sam changed clothes, got in her Subaru, and headed for the lodge. The car shouldn’t sit idle for too long, she reasoned. Now that she had her license back, she didn’t need to walk everywhere—although the exercise certainly allowed her to eat as much of Dinah’s wonderful food as she liked.

Once she parked at the lodge, she wasn’t entirely certain what approach she should take. Lance wasn’t likely to be hanging about the computer room, and he was the one she really wanted to see.

The sheriff’s car was there, pursuing the ongoing investigations, so she assumed she couldn’t be in too much danger. She really didn’t want to talk to any officialdom except Walker though. She parked behind the lodge, near the small building she’d been told Lance used for his studio.

Deciding she’d use Elaine as her excuse for stopping by, she walked up to the studio’s open door as if the Kennedys really were her family and she belonged here.

Lance looked up from his work when Sam knocked on the door frame. Remembering Mariah’s warning, she studied him. He’d pulled his graying blond hair back in a piece of string at his nape. He had the same Viking bone structure as his sister. His jutting cheekbones and square jaw were just more masculine. If she did not mistake, his color was healthier today. He was tall and lanky and not muscular by any means, but he didn’t look like a weak man.

“Samantha,” he acknowledged with a nod, cleaning off his brush. “You have been very much a topic of conversation lately.”

Huh, she didn’t even need an excuse to stop in.

“Have I? Should I apologize?” She entered even though he hadn’t invited her. She was used to the absent-mindedness of her adopted parents. She stopped to examine a collection of small portraits grouped on one wall.

“No, not at all. I gather my nephews are somewhat bemused at learning their father wasn’t a model of good behavior, but he died when they were young. There was no reason to enlighten them.” He pointed at the photo-sized portraits she was admiring. “What do you think? I understand you were raised by professional artists.”

“That doesn’t mean I understand art,” she protested. “I’m just like everyone else, admiring for personal reasons and not necessarily for the right ones. You’ve captured likenesses extremely well as far as I can see. In this one, Mariah shines almost as brightly as the crystals she hangs in her nets. But in this one, Kurt is looking a little tired.”

She studied another of a gorgeous blond woman wearing what appeared to be a Hello, Dolly type of costume. The face looked familiar but she couldn’t quite place it. “Who is this?”

Cleaning his brush, he leaned over her shoulder. “Valerie. Isn’t she gorgeous? I had to do that from memory. While she’s on stage, I’m too enthralled to even sketch. Her voice is magnificent.”

“Valerie? Valdis? She was on stage?” That explained the carrying voice!

“That was a long time ago. She’s extremely talented, but she retreated from the public eye after her. . . accident.” He put his brush back in a mason jar holder.

Guessing he wouldn’t tell the story, wishing she could have the image to show to Cass, Sam moved on to the next portrait. “Who is this person with the red eyes?”

“Juan,” he said curtly, reaching over her shoulder to take down the image. “Something in the paint erodes the color after a while. I’ve been experimenting with the formulas used in the seventies, but I cannot achieve their clarity. Although I do recollect others developing the unfortunate redness, so perhaps the crystals they used were impure.”

“Crystals?” Sam studied the rest of the miniature portraits. He did have a gift for capturing likeness, although she couldn’t see much personality in the people represented. Monty and Kurt could have been stone statues for all the life they exhibited. She was surprised to find Dinah in the collection. She didn’t think Lance went to the café often. And was that Valdis again—without the scar and looking much, much younger?

“The formula included grinding crystals into the natural substances they used for coloration. I prefer not to use poisonous ingredients. I’ve experimented with both their formulas and my own, mixing the crystal in different mediums, but every so often, they still deteriorate.” He studied Juan’s image, shrugged, and added it to a stack turned to the wall.

“Perhaps Juan’s family would like the painting?” Sam suggested. “Can you blot out the red?”

He hovered uncertainly over the stack of canvas turned to the wall. “Juan was an unhappy man. When they were younger, my nephews had to buy his silence with their allowances when he caught them out past their curfew, until they started telling their mother rather than hand over the money. Thought that rather smart of them. So I did the same when he tried to blackmail me over a trifling incident. Not a very bright fellow. Do you really think his family would like the portrait?”