“No, I took it back,” he said. “I decided to keep it after all. Sorry, if you were thinking of buying it.”
“Actually I was more interested in the child who is the subject of the painting. Colleen Van Horn, wasn’t it?” I waited for him to say something. The smile had faded and he was staring at me almost belligerently now. I continued, “I was thinking: it must have been painted just before she died. So I wondered if you were commissioned to paint that picture.”
“Not exactly. I saw a likely subject and painted it. She was a natural.”
“So you know the family personally?”
“Used to,” he said. “How about yourself? Are you a friend of the family?”
“In a way,” I said.
“That’s me too. A friend of the family, in a way. And I’m sorry, but the picture is not for sale. Now I must get back to work before I lose the light.”
He went back to his painting, ignoring us completely.
Thirty
We arrived back at the Hannan estate to find chaos. Police were guarding the gate, keeping out men in derby hats and ill-fitting jackets whom I identified instantly as newspaper reporters. Obviously the news of Brian Hannan’s death had now reached New York.
They fell upon us as we approached the gate. “Are you family members? Did you know Brian Hannan well? Is it true that they are calling his death foul play?” The questions flew from all sides, while they stood, pad and pencils ready.
“We’re just visitors,” I said. “No close connection with the family so I’m afraid we can’t answer any questions.”
“Were you staying here when he died?” one asked. “If you were, my newspaper has authorized me to pay one hundred dollars for a first person account.”
Tempting as this was I declined politely and indicated that the policeman should open the gate for us. Of course they had not seen Sid and Gus before so I had explaining to do before they would finally let us in. It was only then that alarming suspicions arose.
“Nothing new has happened, has it?” I asked. “No new tragedy while we’ve been out?”
“Not that I know of, miss,” he said. “But my chief can probably set you to rights. He’s in there talking with the family now.”
The gate clanged shut behind us and we walked briskly toward the cottage. I couldn’t shake the worrying thoughts and had to stop myself from breaking into a run.
“Molly, slow down,” Sid called. “I’m sure Daniel is just fine.”
As the cottage came into view I saw someone standing at the front door. It was Chief Prescott and he was facing Daniel’s mother. She was half his size but she was holding the fort admirably.
“I don’t care who you are. The doctor said no visitors and no excitement and I’m going to make sure he gets his peace and quiet,” I heard her say as we went up the path. Chief Prescott turned to see us coming and I saw relief flood over his face.
“Mrs. Sullivan. How good to see you. I had wanted a word with your husband but this lady doesn’t seem to understand that this is a crime investigation and that I have to speak with people, even if they are sick.”
“I’m sorry, Chief Prescott,” I said, “but my mother-in-law is quite right. The doctor did forbid any kind of excitement or stimulation. My husband is still very weak and not out of danger yet. Is there anything I can help you with? Would you care to come inside?”
“I don’t believe so, Mrs. Sullivan. Actually I wanted your husband’s opinion on the latest developments—policeman to policeman, so to speak.”
“He may have recovered enough to speak with you tomorrow,” I said. “Has something else occurred? I saw that the place is crawling with your men.”
“They are just to keep the newshounds at bay,” he said. “I’m afraid word got out to New York that the alderman had been poisoned. I’m not sure who spilled the beans. My men were instructed to remain silent. It must have been one of the family.”
He was looking at me in a way that indicated he thought maybe I was the one who squealed. “These things have a way of leaking out, don’t they?” I said, eyeing him coldly. “I can’t shed any light, I’m afraid. I’ve hardly spoken with the family,” I said.
“I have just come from interviewing them and I have the impression that they are deliberately being unhelpful. They are very good at claiming to know nothing and providing the alibi for each other. It’s like facing a brick wall.”
“So what are the latest developments?” I asked. “Not another death?”